#but it is 100% for jokes please laugh

[singing-robot]

August 10th, I guess (source)

[localfanbaselurker]

been waiting to post this one

[hellolulu]

I wonder if from now on the reigen/dimple shippers will draw megabuff shiny gold naked god Dimple from now on and leave that security guy alone 🤔

[ugh-yoongi]

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, ���Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[florwons]

NOT ON MY WATCH ⋮ P.SH

SYNOPSIS Sunghoon caught you getting ready for your supposed date, and it was clear he was trying to convince you to reconsider. He tried to dismiss his actions as simply "looking out" for you, but deep down, he couldn't shake the thought that lingered in his mind: why him, not me?

𝓟AIRING brother's-best-friend!sunghoon x fem!reader 𝓖ENRE fluff, friends to lovers (?) 𝓦ARNINGS jealousy, slight bickering / argument-ish? 𝓦ORD COUNT 2K+ ( 2054 words ) 𝓕EI’S 𝓝OTES first sunghoon fic (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) hoon has been taking over and that picture on pinterest fueled this idea in mind … think of this as a thank you for 100+ followers ♡ i truly am grateful and i hope to continue to make much more works for you all !! enjoy & ily >ᴗ<

You heard a gentle knock on your door, followed by a familiar voice asking, “Can I come in?” It was Park Sunghoon, your brother’s best friend. His frequent visits to your house had become routine, and you were used to seeing him almost every day. It felt like he practically lived there, but given his close friendship with your brother, it wasn't surprising.

“No.”

“Come on, please?”

“What’s your excuse for bothering me this time?” you replied, still focused on the mirror in front of you, showing no intention of letting him in.

“Your brother is busy playing games with Jake right now, and they’re being way too loud,” Sunghoon sighed, clearly exasperated. “Mind if I come in to escape them for a bit?”

“I don’t think my brother would appreciate you suddenly disappearing. He might think something’s up,” you replied, still focused on your appearance.

“He’s too busy trying to beat Jake to even notice I’m gone,” Sunghoon said with a faint smile. “Besides, I’d much rather talk to you than listen to them shout at the screen.”

“I’m flattered,” you laughed softly. “Alright, you can come in. Don’t be annoying.”

Sunghoon opened the door, his eyes settling on you as you sat at your desk, touching up your makeup. He raised his eyebrows slightly, leaning against the doorframe, clearly wanting to enter. “What are you getting ready for?” he asked, curiosity evident in his voice. “You look rather pretty.”

“Why, thank you. You’re being nice today,” you replied with a teasing smile. “I’m getting ready for a date.”

“Funny,” he said with a soft chuckle as he walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge while watching you apply your blush. “What are you really getting ready for? A girls' day out?”

You rolled your eyes and turned to face him. “No, seriously. It’s an actual date,” you insisted, trying to convey sincerity.

“You’re joking,” he said, laughing a little more, but when he saw your serious expression, the laughter faded. “Seriously?”

“Why would I joke about my love life?”

“You seem like the type who would.”

“Oh, don’t start. Remember, I’m the one who let you into my room,” you said, turning back to your mirror.

Sunghoon's smile wavered, a flicker of jealousy crossing his features as his eyes narrowed with mock suspicion. Hearing you say that, he couldn’t help but feel slightly…bothered.

“An actual date, huh? With who?”

“Why should it matter to you?” you asked, genuinely confused. “It’s not like you’re my brother.”

Sunghoon hesitated, searching for a reason to dismiss your plans. “Does your brother know about this… supposed date?”

“First of all, it’s an actual date, so I don’t know why you’re doubting me,” you replied, crossing your arms defensively. “And secondly, why does he have to know?”

“Oh, so he doesn’t?” Sunghoon crossed his arms, frustration evident in his expression. “I would think you’d be smart enough to talk to your brother about this. Someone should know about this date of yours.”

“Well, now you know,” you replied with a teasing smile. “That should be enough, right?”

“Is that so?” he said firmly. “Then no.”

“What?” You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden declaration.

“You’re not going,” Sunghoon insisted, his voice carrying a hint of jealousy that was impossible to ignore. “Not on my watch.”

You’d always known Sunghoon as your brother's annoying friend, the one who constantly found ways to bicker with you. But instead of the usual smirk he wore, his expression was serious—totally out of the ordinary.

Why was he suddenly acting like this?

“Okay, you’re confusing me,” you said, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to decipher his words. “Why wouldn’t I go?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms tighter, trying to maintain his composure. “Because you told me about your date, right? So I’m saying you shouldn’t go—just offering my opinion,” he said, attempting to mask his jealousy with a casual tone.

You frowned, feeling your frustration build. “Why should I listen to you?”

“So you just want me to stay silent? What if your brother asks me about you, wondering where you’re at, and I lie, and—who knows if you won’t get hurt?”

“Why would I get hurt?” you replied, exasperation creeping into your voice. “You don’t even know my date.”

“Then tell me about him,” Sunghoon pressed, his curiosity tinged with something deeper.

“Why should I tell you?” you asked, your frustration growing. “This isn’t your business.”

“It’s either you tell me about him, or I tell your brother,” Sunghoon replied, his voice firm and unwavering. “You know how protective he can get.”

You sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to let this go. “Fine. A friend of mine set me up with someone. He’s supposed to be nice, and I thought it’d be fun to meet him,” you said, trying to sound casual despite feeling a bit cornered. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

“So, you don’t know him?” he asked, his tone filled with skepticism.

“I’ll get to know him then.”

“No, that sounds so...unsafe!” Sunghoon said, his voice tinged with genuine concern. He was struggling to form his thoughts properly, not wanting to say the wrong things but clearly wanting to show his disapproval. “What if he’s not who he says he is? You can’t just meet up with some random guy.”

“Sunghoon, it’s not like I’m going to be reckless,” you replied, feeling a bit defensive. “If my friend knows him, then I should be fine, right?”

“Still, just because your friend knows him doesn’t mean he’s a good person.”

“You judge a lot for someone who hasn’t even heard about this man before,” you countered, crossing your arms.

“And you’re putting a lot of trust in a man you’re planning on seeing today,” Sunghoon shot back, his expression unwavering.

The room fell into a tense silence, his words hanging heavily in the air. You could see he was genuinely concerned, but his protective stance was starting to grate on your nerves.

“Whatever, Sunghoon, you can’t change my mind. I have to give this thing a try.”

“And do you even have a ride?” His question caught you off guard, making you pause. You didn’t have a ride.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a quick response. “I was just going to take the bus,” you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Sunghoon sighed, clearly not satisfied with your plan. “I’ll drive you,” he offered. Then, with a smirk, he added, “But, you’re going on a date with me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you felt your cheeks flush with confusion. “What? Wait, what do you mean?” you stammered, caught completely off guard by his sudden declaration.

“I think I made it pretty clear that I didn’t like the thought of your date, did I not?” Sunghoon said, getting up from the bed and walking over to your desk. He leaned against it, pressing his palms on the surface, standing right next to where you were seated. “I wouldn’t want you to waste a cute outfit.”

“Okay, this is all of a sudden—this is crazy, Sunghoon!” you exclaimed, trying to wrap your head around the situation.

“Come on, you tell me that all the time. Why don’t you tell me something new?” he replied with a playful smirk. He was back to his usual self, but there was a flirty undertone you weren’t sure whether you hated or actually enjoyed.

“No really, do you know how insane you sound right now? Why would I go on a date with you?” you asked, still trying to process his sudden proposal.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“We can’t.”

“Why is that?”

“You’re my brother’s best friend—and my friend is going to kill me if I back out now,” you explained, trying to sound resolute.

“I don’t think it would be a problem to cancel now,” Sunghoon said, dismissing your concerns with a casual shrug. “And your brother? He doesn’t have to know.”

“Sunghoon!”

Sunghoon let out a small scoff, unable to hide his disbelief. He couldn’t understand why you were so set on meeting this guy. Did the thought of going out with him really bother you so much that you'd choose a stranger over him? The idea was unsettling to him.

“You’re already planning on breaking the rules that your brother established, so why are you hesitant now?”

“It’s not the same.”

“So, you’d rather go out with someone you don’t even know, instead of someone you’ve spent time with and know well? Why him, not me?” he asked, his frustration clear in his voice.

He muttered a curse under his breath, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Running a hand through his hair, he looked away from you, letting out a quick sigh as he struggled to collect his thoughts.

“Forget what I said.”

“You could’ve just blackmailed me by saying that you were going to tell my brother about this, but you chose to basically ask me out?” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes.

“It’s not like I meant it,” he mumbled, clearly flustered. “I’m just looking out for you because, you know, I’m your brother’s best friend. I was trying to get your mind off of this dating nonsense thing—as your brother would’ve liked.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Sunghoon, you’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing!” he insisted, but the pink hue on his cheeks betrayed him. He tried to maintain his composure, but the blush only deepened under your scrutiny.

“Right, and I’m supposed to believe that?” you said, crossing your arms with a knowing smile.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little jealous. But can you blame me? I’ve seen you around all the time, and you’re amazing. And I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now, but I didn’t know how. So, hearing you talk about going on a date suddenly was definitely not a good feeling.”

“I didn’t think you saw me that way,” you admitted softly, feeling your defenses start to crumble.

“Well, I do,” Sunghoon replied, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “I’m just trying to understand why you’d choose a stranger over someone who’s been here all along.”

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think you were actually suggesting we go out,” you said, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Let alone, suddenly calling it a date…”

“It could be considered a friendly one then. Would that make you feel more at ease with agreeing? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with my abruptness,” Sunghoon replied, his tone softening as he tried to reassure you.

“Oh? Yeah…that could work too…”

“You sound like you want it to be considered an actual date,” Sunghoon teased, a playful glint returning to his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “Is this you saying ‘yes’?”

“There you go, being your teasing self again. I thought we were having a moment,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a smile. “I can’t help but think you meant it that way for suddenly bringing it up.”

He laughed. “Well, we can have an even better moment, only if you accept.”

“Ask me properly then.”

“So demanding,” he teased, shaking his head with a grin.

“It’s either that, or I actually take a bus and meet up with him,” you said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Don’t joke like that,” Sunghoon said, meeting your gaze with a serious look, though a small smile soon cracked through. “Okay then, Y/N, will you go out with me tonight?”

You pretended to consider it for a moment, enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “Well, since you asked so nicely… I guess I can rearrange my plans,” you replied with a smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. You might feel a twinge of guilt for backing out of your original plans, but you know your friend won’t hold it against you. After all, you're still going on a date—just not with the person she set you up with. Instead, it's with your brother's best friend, which adds an unexpected twist to the evening.

“But if my brother even suspects a single thing, you’re so dead.”

“Don’t worry, even if we have to sneak out, I can make it work.” Sunghoon said confidently, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I promise this will be worth way more than whatever you planned on doing today.”

────── 𝓔NHYPEN 𝓟ERM 𝓣AGLIST IS 𝓞PEN! 𝓐SK OR 𝓒OMMENT TO JOIN!

[mrfoox]

Ok me and Fabian is falling into some sort of play flirting thing and I don't know how to act or feel

[gilverrwrites]

Batguys when they have for the first time a vibrator put ON THEM (their dicks) by reader during sex ( they never experienced a toy on themselves before, it was always used on their girl if they were using toys).

AND I’m the same person that send the bat guys vibrators suggestion! What if the guys thought the vibrator was only for women and they’re proven other wise 😏😉

AN: I’m not convinced of them not knowing per se, so much as they’ve just never considered it for various reasons. So, in order of understood to least understood; Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Roy

Batman:

He knows full well the effects, he’s just hates to not be in control. So when you finally pin him down long enough to have your way, it’s because he lets you. When you teasingly glide the tip of your vibe along his length he purposely bucks his hips, urging you to use it on his sensitive tip, enjoying the whole commotion more than he thought he would.

The gloriously thick muscles of his thighs tense under his own self-restraint as you finally give him what wants.

“You’re taking it so well Brucie.” You coo and he glares at you from beneath his brow, trying and failing to maintain dominance but the rest of his body betrays him; his cheeks are tinted a precious shade of red, his broad chest heaving with each shallow breath.

When you praise him again; “You’re such a good boy.” He loses it completely.

Nightwing:

100% understands, but why would he ever want to use them on himself, when he could use them on you?

Then again, you’re so cute with those big puppy dog eyes, that mischievous grin when you ask to try something on him, how could he say no? And my god, he is a sight to behold. Even having seen the effect your bullet has on you, the way it makes you wither and moan uncontrollably, nothing could prepare him for his first experience.

He’s so loud, louder than you and just as unruly. His hands gripping tight to every surface, you, the headboard, the pillows, the mattress nothing satiates him. His long legs stretch, his toes curl, hips rolling and jerking for friction as his whole body shakes. Unable to muster the normal slew of filth he typically showers you with; he pants your name between obscenely breathless moans until he cums all over himself.

Side note: I swear, put this man in a vibrating cock ring, I need it.

Red Hood:

He’s just literally never thought about it before. One night you ask him to grab something from your bedside drawer and you’re surprised when he comes back holding your wand. When you ask if he wants to try it out, this is not what he expects.

Hell, if he’s not complaining though. Jason has never seen this kind of thing in action, so he’s lounging on the bed, legs spread wide as he leans against the headboard, not expecting too much.

When you tease the vibrating head along his shaft, causing it to twitch, he laughs and jokes about it tickling, but the moment you press it to the tip of his cock his whole body trembles.

“Ah, fuck baby.” He bites his lip, trying and failing to keep his eyes from rolling back. “Right there, right there, please don’t stop.”

Arsenal:

And if I may throw a wildcard in the mix;

Roy is exactly the kind of smart but dense kinda guy who could tinker away endlessly, making the perfect toys (out of equipment intended for weaponry might I add) to meet your needs, things meant to fill you in all the right spaces, to vibrate and pulse at the strength and speed that drives you wild, without it ever occurring to him that it could be used on him too.

He’s already hard as a rock and close to the edge after you’ve gone down on him, when you show him what you’re doing he lazily mumbles “Oh come on baby, that’s not gonna do anything.”

He’s proven almost immediately wrong. He’s lovingly cupping your face or holding your hair back but when he feels the vibrating sensation on his already sensitive cock his grip automatically tightened like a vice.

The skin from his cheeks to his belly growing hotter with each pulse until his body is just a few shades lighter than his hair, he’s sweating, eyes watering, begging for release and when you grant it he nearly tumbles over, legs weak and trembling.

[gloxk]

Please give us sum eren & armin toxic hc Like armin and eren would be two different types of toxic. Ex!boyfriend eren blowing ur back out n sending it to ur bf or whoever ur talking to n ex!boyfriend armin not being able to take you talking to someone else so he fucks you a party or smth idk go crazy. 🤰🏾.

“Yeah my ex is crazy.”

A/N: No bc they are two completely different types of toxic. Like idk how to explain it? I js feel like eren is the type of ex to be petty and trifling. But armin..omg..armin goes off the fucking deep end. But i love my lil psychos🤭.

WARNING!: A lil fluff , toxic behavior, unhealthy relationships, smut, unprotected s*x, Blackmailing, Mentions of offing someone, obsession, controlling, plus other things . +17 mdni

EREN! Please for the love of god don’t let Eren find out you fucking with someone else. This man will go from nonchalant to crazy. “Oh word? This what we doing?”. He disregards the fact yall broke up a whole month ago.

He would definitely blow up your phone after seeing a post on instagram. “Who is he?” & “He fuck you better then me?”. Oh and please don’t tell him yes. Because let me warn you. He will be right there at that door knocking.

“You know you fucking lyin. But ight we gon see.” He hung up the phone and you laughed at him. Who gave this man an ego? Did he really think he was the only man with good dick?

You were confused when you heard a knock on your door but to your surprise, it was eren. “What the fuck?” he pushed right passed you walking into your apartment. “Nah, don’t fucking play with me y/n.” You could tell he was pissed just by his voice.

This man wasted no time bending you over the couch and fucking you right there.

“Nobody could fuck you better the me.” He grabbed a fists full of your hair pulling you up to his mouth.“You belong to me. Don’t ever let me find out there’s someone other than me fucking you like this.” and to be quite frank, nobody could fuck you like eren.

Eren talked you through the whole thing. He knew he was rough with you, but god he couldn’t help it. So that’s why he praised you for taking his dick so well <3.

He took out his phone and pressed record. His hard thrust drove lewd moans from your lips. “Fuck right there!” you screamed every time his hips slapped your ass. He made sure he got glimpse of your face so the guy knew it was you. He made sure you screamed his name just to prove who you belonged to.

You got so many miss calls while eren fucked you to sleep. Every time ole boy called eren went faster. <3

You woke up alone, your bed empty. Your phone notifications were through the roof. Over 100 notifications from that guy. It was crazy. But a simple text from eren stuck out. “Let me hear word about you fucking w some again. Next time ima put em in a casket.”

You weren’t sure if he was joking or not. But one thing you did know was he made every threat a promise. And he always kept his promises.

ARMIN! Lawd, you let armin find out you even thought about some one else fucking you, it was over.

This man went full psychotic when word got to him about you talking to someone guy. Apparently you were at a party grinding all up against him.

The first thing armin did was collect every drop of information he had on this guy. His home address, His mother’s facebook, His phone number, Job number. He knew too much on the fucker who decided to touch his pretty “girlfriend”.

It pissed him off, how dare you try to replace him. He blew up your phone to the point it crashed. “That’s so fucking cute, y/n. You think that you can just go fuck some other guy?” , “Please don’t make me do something crazy.” . The crazy part was you didn’t even fuck the guy, he was just fucking crazy. He always assumed you were cheating for some reason.

When you didn’t answer his calls he pulled up expeditiously. if you didn’t answer within the 30 minute window he wouldn’t wait to show up to your door.

“Y/n open this goddamn door.” He banged on the door. It was 2 am- oh yeah he knew you had work later, he didn’t care.

As soon as you open the door an argument ensued. “Pick up the fucking phone when I call you y/n” He yelled at you slamming the door behind him. “You ain’t my fucking boyfriend Armin. Ion gotta do shit.”

He never made you regret your words so fast. His nails dug into your hips as his pace increased. “Ain’t yo fucking boyfriend huh? Then why you letting me fuck you raw?”

Your bed was a mess after he made you cum over and over again. After he was done all you could do was mumble incoherently ‘Nobody is better then you’. He was rough but his after care made up for it <3.

He kissed your forehead before he nuzzled into your chest. “You’re the best I ever had.” he soon fell asleep after those words left his mouth.

I love my cute lil crazy guys <3

[mattybsgroupie]

late night rides | matt sturniolo

contents: fwb; making out; oral (m receiving); thigh riding (f); fingering (f receiving); use of “y/n”; lowkey sub!matt;

- ♡ -

notes: thank you for the overwhelming feedback on my first post! over 700 notes and 100 followers you guys are insane lol ♡ here’s something else, sweeter, sillier and more light-hearted than the other one. still no p in v tho cause virgin stupid inexperienced loser matt drives me insane - but i’ll make sure to bring it next time ;) maybe soft dom!matt? or a reeeally sub one with a mommy kink? let me know your thoughts! 

- ♡ -

matt had finally found a spot to park after dropping his brothers off to a party we were not going to. i took my seatbelt off, getting comfortable to hang out with him for a couple of hours before picking them up again.

“fuck it” matt said and suddenly smashed his lips against mine, holding my face with both hands.

i melted into his touch. how could i not when feeling the pressure of the kiss growing bigger and his digits slowly caressing my cheek?

one of my hands traveled to the back of matt’s neck, fingers passing through his fluffy curls. he put his tongue out, licking my lips as a sign he wanted to do it the french way - i knew very well where this was gonna end.

matt’s hand reached to my waist, trying to bring me near to his chest, yet failing because of the distance between our seats. i couldn’t help myself from moving onto his lap, instinctively getting closer while he placed his free hand at the back of my head, playing with my hair and deepening the kiss.

my heart started beating faster and matt was breathing heavily - and he had to pull away to get some air back. our bodies, however, were still attached to each other. his forehead touched mine, keeping our faces together so i could see the trail of spit that connected our lips. as he calmed down, we hadn’t stopped staring at each other. i don’t think we could, even if we wanted to.

i missed him so much. it had been so long since the last time we were that intimate, that close, that needy.

and i was dripping wet.

i smashed my lips against his once again and he held me down by my hips before slowly brushing his digits against my ass, as if he was silently waiting for permission to touch me. my response was to move myself further to his crotch, which he understood as a “yes” and allowed himself to have fun groping my butt.

while our tongues would interlock and turn with the lewd, wet sounds taking over the darkened car, i found myself grinding over his bulge. i could feel matt growing hard under me as his grip tightened, leaving marks on my skin.

“matt” i was the one who gasped for air this time, looking at his chest and bringing my eyes down to where our parts met. he widened his blue orbs, as if he didn’t notice he had grown rock hard while kissing me.

“need you” he whispered in my ear. “fuck y/n- need you so bad”

“yeah?” i smiled, biting his ear back. “i can tell you missed me”, i joked while palming the boner over his jeans.

“this?” he pointed his index finger down, and i nodded. matt’s cheeks grew red, completely flustered “im gonna cream my pants in a few minutes if you keep on humping me like that” he laughed it off.

“you have always been my good boy, haven’t you matt?” i cooed, caressing his hair. i noticed how his look had shifted, his expression softening as i praised him. “gonna make me feel good first, hm?”

“yes” he whimpered. “yes, fuck i’ll be so good for you”

i removed my shirt, exposing my black lingerie to him. matt gasped, holding my hips tighter and adjusting himself “you’re so fucking hot”, he said while trying to untie my bra before looking at me with puppy eyes “can i? please?”

he couldn’t even wait for my breasts to be completely exposed, fully sticking his face against my skin. matt started to lick one of my nipples, making me whine at the sudden contact. his tongue would twirl around it while he massaged my other boob with his free hand, making sure both of them were getting enough attention. i unconsciously went back to grind over his bulge, trying to get some relief to my aching cunt.

“matt” i moaned, trying to catch my breath before asking him “haven’t i taught you how to use those fingers properly?”

“uhum, y-yes” he muffled, too busy sucking my nipple to say anything else. “then fucking use them”.

matt’s hands moved to my ass, pulling my sweatpants down without even asking. he started teasing the waistband of my panties, slowly scratching my skin and giving me goosebumps. he left a trail of love bites all the way up to my neck, and we couldn’t stop kissing anymore.

we were acting like two horny teens - my face was scratched from matt’s newly, but poorly shaved beard and i distracted myself while biting his neck, leaving a purple hickey that i knew he would jokingly be mad about the next morning.

after what felt way too long, matt’s fingers finally met my soaked underwear. he’d move his digits through the cloth, stopping by my clit and slowly circling it before coming back to my entrance. he managed to pull my panties aside, just enough to get two of his fingers to rub against my pussy.

matt looked at me, silently asking for permission to put a finger in. i nodded frantically - i needed him so bad.

his middle finger slowly entered my tight hole, making me clench against his hand. matt started pushing it in at a torturing pace, causing me to whimper and bite his shoulders to cover my moans. his thumb made it’s way back to my clit, applying pressure and rubbing it quickly. as i throbbed, he went further and put his other finger inside, filling me up completely.

as matt went back to my boobs, i would move my hips up and down to meet his digits, both of us completely covered in sweat. matt’s thrusts started to get faster and deeper while i humped myself against him, feeling the knot in my lower belly begging to be released.

my hands went to his hair, pulling it so hard matt let out a groan. my lips opened apart, loud moans filling the car as i got closer to the edge.

“let your good boy taste you” he said. “come in my fingers babe, please” was all that he needed to say for me to reach my orgasm, trembeling and leaking onto his hand, my body collapsing over his.

“gosh” i whined, gradually coming back to my senses. matt kissed my forehead and caressed my back before removing his fingers off me.

those blues eyes of his starred at mine as he placed both wet fingers on his tongue, teasing me as he licked all of it “you’re so fucking delicious”.

“we gotta stop doing that” i said jokingly.

“but- i behaved!” matt looked so confused, he had high hopes of getting a reward. “didn't even… make a mess in my pants” he shyly whispered, looking away.

how could i say no?

“you’ve been a good boy, so i'll let you choose. do you want my hands or my mouth?”

“mouth” he responded immediately, without even thinking. “please, wanna cum in your mouth”.

i pulled my pants up and got off his lap, crawling back to the passenger's seat. i couldn't help but smile at how desperate he looked, begging me to quickly unbutton his jeans. i teased him over his boxers, pumping his shaft over the cloth before freeing his hard cock.

i had completely forgotten.

matt was huge.

i slowly wrapped my fingers around his naked length and already could feel him twitching. “such a sensitive boy” i said before getting closer to the tip, giving it a kitten lick. “y/n, fuck” matt gasped.

my lips swallowed his tip, already wet with pre-cum, and i slowly made my way down matt’s cock, my free hand pumping what i couldn’t fit inside of my mouth. i could hear his small cries, asking me to go faster “ah- i’m getting close”. 

matt’s hands finally got tired of gripping his own seat and were placed at the back of my hair, him trying to lead the pace as i bobbed my head up and down. matt was so sensitive his hips started bucking up, thrusting at the end of my throat and making me gag, saliva traveling down his cock. “wanna cum, p-please” he begged. it took him only two more thrusts to release on my tongue - without even warning me. matt’s legs were trembling and he had finally let go of my hair, breathing heavily as he came back from his high.

i swallowed his sticky spurt and showed him my tongue, making matt grunt in desperation before pulling me to another kiss. just when we had calmed down, slowing getting back in the mood, his phone started to ring, text messages sounds taking over the now silent car. matt complained and rolled his eyes back before checking “fuck’s sake, it's chris”.

i laughed at matt’s frustration and patted his thigh before he pulled his jeans up. “well, at least we had some fun” i said, giving him a peck on the cheek while he texted his brother back.

“no! i wanted to fuck you” he said blatantly, still writing.

“that's not how you talk to a lady!” i slapped his arm.

“you, a lady? sure” he blocked the screen, putting his cellphone in his pocket and starting the car. “so, same time next week?”

- ♡ -

PART 2

[nadvs]

cam girl (part ten)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe is on your mind constantly. At this point, you’ve accepted it. There was something about the way he looked at you in his car last night. Possibly. Hopefully.

You stand in a quiet aisle, eyeing merchandise while you hold the charm on the necklace he gave you, the metal warm under your fingertips.

You’d never been in a sex shop before. The guys you hooked up with before Rafe were nowhere near as kinky as him and you bought all the stuff you needed to be a cam girl online.

But seeing all the possibilities makes your stomach twist with excitement. You want to try absolutely everything with Rafe.

You’ve been thinking about coming here throughout all your classes today with one thing in mind. Rafe loves to use toys on you, but you’ve never used anything on him.

With Rafe’s need for control, you assume he won’t be all that open to using a cock ring, but you want to do something special for him. Maybe you can introduce him to something for a change.

You find a vibrating ring that you know will fit him, then decide to send him a photo of the toys in the aisle behind you and text him: this is a great place to meet guys.

Before you’re even at the register, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: dont joke like that

Rafe: buying something for yourself princess?

He sends you $100.

You reply: something like that :)

You check out at the register and head home, already looking forward to tonight. Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: when can i come over?

You smile at your phone.

You: what about our cam session?

You get a notification that he sent $1000. The alert makes you wonder if he thinks you’re just doing all this solely for the money and gifts.

You’d do it all for free.

Rafe: i won’t wait that long

Not just can’t. He won’t.

You reply: like 8ish?

Rafe: ok

It starts to rain close to 8 and when Rafe arrives at your place, his hair is wet and his face and jacket are peppered with raindrops.

“Is the valet not working today?” you joke, knowing full well he had to find street parking on your busy road.

He breathes a chuckle, stepping into your apartment with his usual ease. You’ve noticed that he walks into every room like he owns it.

Rafe shakes off his jacket and places it on the back of one of your kitchen table chairs while you grab a clean hand towel out of your hamper.

“Sorry this towel’s not a million thread count,” you tease, meeting him to dab the towel over his face.

His blue eyes search your face with a hint of something new. Confusion?

You realize you didn’t even think about it; you thoughtlessly started to dry him off. It was such a mechanical response. Your impulse is to take care of him, make him comfortable.

It’s official. This man is not just a fuck buddy to you anymore.

“What?” you ask, knowing you need to crack a joke to break the tension. “I’m just drying off my seat.”

“Oh, my God,” Rafe groans, trying to act annoyed, but you know he’s not. You laugh and lower the towel, squeezing the cotton in your hands.

“What’d you buy?” he asks, clearly eager.

“I’ll show you later. I wanna hear what you have planned,” you say. “You always have something planned.”

“You first,” he says.

“Rafe,” you whine, dropping the towel to rest your hands on his firm shoulders. “Can’t I surprise you for once? What do you want to do to me tonight?”

“I wanna see what you bought,” Rafe solidifies.

You suck your teeth in frustration, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Please?” you breathe. “I’m always the one waiting. Why don’t you wait for once?”

Rafe’s jaw tightens and he shakes his head in disbelief like he can’t believe he’s giving in, but he gives in.

“You ever been tied up?” he finally asks, his voice so deep that it reverberates through you. The air is suddenly thick and any impression of humor that was floating between you has been dismissed by his words.

“Like… bondage?” you say in a short breath, mulling it over as blood rushes to your cheeks. “No. I haven’t.”

He closes the already minuscule distance between you, cradling your jaw in his cool hand.

“I want your hands tied up while I fuck you,” he says. Your mouth goes dry. Just when you think he can’t get any fucking hotter.

Rafe’s hand drops and you hear his belt unbuckling while his hot breath spreads across your cheek.

“Why the fuck are you still dressed?” he rasps. You’re reeling as you strip down to nothing but the necklace he gave you. You hear the clang of his belt buckle falling onto your kitchen table beside you.

Rafe’s hands drag over your hips, pinching down when he turns you to face the other way. He’s still in his boxers, his cock jabbing against your ass. His warm chest is pressed on your back, rising and falling.

“You’re always the one waiting?” he mutters. The belt buckle drags off the table top, and when you feel him roughly grab both your wrists and wrap the thick leather around them, the familiar need for him between your legs aches.

“You’re always waiting,” he repeats with a scoff. “I’m the one who’s always fucking waiting.”

You want to know what he means, but the belt is suddenly tight around your wrists, your chest jutting out. Rafe pushes you by the back of your neck so that your front is down on your table, your cheek flush against the hard plastic.

“Spread your legs,” he orders.

The muscles in your thighs are strained and your hips burn against the hard table from the way he has you bent over. He couldn’t even spare the few seconds to go to your bedroom.

You feel his tip press against you, making you wonder which hole he wants to fuck.

“Beg for it,” he orders. His fingers tighten around the back of your neck. Your arms are already burning from being bound like this.

“Please fuck me,” you moan, lips flanged from how hard your cheek is being pushed against the table.

“Say my fucking name,” he tells you.

“Please, Rafe,” you obey. He groans in response, hands settling on your hips.

He stretches your cunt out so fucking slowly that you want to scream. You push back against him, and you swear, he laughs at your desperation.

Rafe finally bottoms out in you, his hips against your ass. He puts his hand over your bound wrists, starting to drag out again.

“This pussy is fucking mine,” he says. As if you need the reminder. He owns you completely.

When he picks up the pace, driving into you, your breath hitches. With every thrust, your hips grind against the hard table, making you ache in pain.

“Ow,” you snip before you can stop yourself.

Rafe immediately pulls out of you, making you writhe in frustration.

“What hurts?”

“Nothing,” you lie, wanting him more than you want the pain to stop. “Keep going.”

“What hurts?” he repeats sternly.

“My hips,” you admit. “I’m fine, it’s just ‘cause of the table. Please just-”

“I’m not making you cry again,” he snaps. He cups a hand on your shoulder. “Go to your bed.”

“Rafe, it’s fine.” You feel oddly ashamed, like you’re not doing your job pleasing him how he wants you to.

“Go,” he mutters. His hand pulls you up and you have no choice but to let him push you into your bedroom.

Your wrists are still bound at your lower back when he bends you over your bed. You sink onto your stomach, feeling Rafe’s fingers spread you open before driving his cock into you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he relentlessly pounds in and out of you. Your arms strain against the constrictions of his belt, the sensations so fucking perfect.

“Shit, I’m…” he groans, and you know he’s close, so you try to tilt up your hips so he can get as deep as possible.

Rafe shakes through his orgasm and you think how you could never tire of this feeling, of being the one he finishes inside of and reaches this feeling with.

He’s panting when he pulls out of you. Your wrists burn against the belt as he loosens it. His hand smooths over your ass before he spanks you and collapses beside you.

“Show me what you bought,” he says. “It better make you cum.” You tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Have an open mind, okay?”

“Damn, what the fuck is it?” Rafe asks with a curious laugh.

You’re sore as you get up on your knees and shift to grab the white ring you already took out of the packaging and placed in your nightstand.

When you settle back on the bed and hold it out in front of him, his brows furrow.

“Is that…?” He can’t finish the sentence, his tone apprehensive.

“It might feel really good,” you say with a small smile. “I got a vibrating one.”

Rafe sits up, glancing down at your purchase before looking up at you again.

“Come on,” you laugh. “You surprise me all the time. I can’t surprise you?”

He clears his throat.

“I don’t know,” he says simply, blinking fast. It sounds like a hard no.

“Oh,” you say. You’re shocked he’s not at least a little open to it, considering how kinky he is. “Okay. Sorry.”

You turn to put the toy away, but his next words stop you.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Fine.”

“Really?” you ask, meeting his eyes again.

“You just look so fucking sad,” he groans.

“You don’t have to do it.”

“Let’s just try it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “After everything I do to you…” You smile in response.

Rafe sits up against the head of your bed frame and you straddle him, dipping your head to kiss him. It’s strange how with him, making out feels more intimate than sex does. As good as the sex is, nothing gets your heart fluttering quite like when his lips are on yours.

Your hands settle on his shoulders and you tug at the ends of hair as you kiss him passionately.

Rafe smiles under the kiss, your lips molding together, his tongue tumbling with yours. You feel him getting hard again.

You pull back to slide the ring down his cock and he sighs in a way that tells you he can’t believe he’s actually doing this before he takes you in to kiss you again.

Rafe’s hands roll over your ass, squeezing and kneading as you sit on his naked lap. This is the longest you’ve ever kissed. It feels crazy to realize that, considering everything you’ve done together.

“Shit,” he shifts beneath you. His cock is growing, the ring starting to squeeze around him.

“How’s it feel?” you ask.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes low. It makes your heart swell with pride. “Ride me.”

You sink down on him slowly, feeling the ring against you once you’re fully seated. You find the button at the top of it to turn on the vibration.

You both exhale in pleasure at the same time. He skims his hands up to your waist, looking at you while you grind on top of him.

In the dim light of your quiet bedroom, the toy buzzing against your clit, how deep he is inside you, the way his eyes are locked on yours… it’s all so perfect. Everything with him is so fucking perfect that it can’t be true.

The fact that you ended up here all because of a part-time cleaning job and a cam website feels insane.

Your palm is against his hot chest. He looks down at it and his dimples dip into his cheeks as he smiles smugly.

“Your hands are so fucking cute,” he teases. The non-sexual compliment sends you into a tizzy.

“Yours are huge,” you retort, trying to keep cool.

“What else is huge?” he asks.

“Your ego.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs.

“Okay,” you tease, starting to sit up so he’ll slip out of you. He roughly pulls you back down by your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rafe mutters. You laugh and start to fuck him faster, your hips rolling in circles.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back. “I… Fuck, I need to get on top.”

You shift to let him settle over you, your head resting on your pillow. Rafe’s hand runs up the side of your bent leg and he grabs your calf to pull it towards him, silently inviting you to wrap your legs around him.

You hook your ankles together, your entire body hugging him.

You fuck for at least twenty straight minutes, both of you sweating and panting and shaking. You knew he’d last extra long with the cock ring tight around him, but this is unbelievable.

You cum twice underneath him in the span of the session, earning a string of “good girl”s from him. By your third orgasm, he starts to tremble, too.

When Rafe cums inside you, his name tumbles out in his groan. Not princess, not baby, not good girl, but your name, and it gives you a knotted feeling in your stomach that you haven’t had with him yet.

Maybe it’s because he’s elated over coming down from a new level. Or maybe it’s more.

He pulls out, still dripping.

“So… you like my present?” you ask when he falls in your bed next to you.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans. “That was…” He doesn’t seem to have the words, but neither do you. How do you even begin to describe something this unreal?

“I need water,” you say, unsure of how you’re going to even stand up. “Want some?”

He shakes his head in response.

You stand at your kitchen sink, leaning against the counter and swallowing down cold water. On your way back to the bedroom, you notice a lit up screen on your kitchen table.

Rafe must have left his phone here before you moved to the bed. Through pure instinct, you look at the screen. By the time you realize you’re accidentally snooping, it’s too late.

You don’t see the contact name in time, but you do see the message.

bro where are you? too many bitches here for just me lol

A chill rushes through your body. It must be one of his buddies waiting for him at a party.

Of course. It’s a Friday night and you’re pretty sure all the rich people on the island have to do is party.

You feel like an idiot. Expecting exclusivity from Rafe in the arrangement you’re in was ridiculous. Of course he’s fucking around on the side. Someone like him, with his sex drive, can’t be satisfied by one girl.

At this point, you just want him to leave, so you collect his clothes off the kitchen floor.

Thankfully, Rafe’s already sitting up in your bed when you reenter your bedroom. Surely eager to go.

“Here,” you say coldly, handing him his jeans and t-shirt. You don’t look at him when he takes his clothes from you. “Are you gonna head out?”

You realize when you ask the question, it’s like a secret test you’re putting him through. If he stays, he gives a shit about you. If he leaves, he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I should,” he says. He should. Yeah, he really should go look at and flirt with and fuck other girls.

“‘Kay.” You start to collect some clean clothes from your dresser, covering your body with them, feeling strangely insecure around him now.

“You pissed off or something?” he asks behind you as he gets dressed.

You clench your jaw. Honestly, you’re more hurt than anything. But are you even allowed to be? Just because he acts like your boyfriend sometimes doesn’t mean he is.

“No,” you reply. You swallow down the painful feelings and turn to look at him. “Just tired.” You think back to your texts yesterday about how often you’ve hooked up. “Lost count, right? I might need a break.”

You don’t mean it. At this point, you’re just defensive. Wanting to hurt him like he hurt you.

Rafe’s face flashes in displeasure.

“What - why? What the fuck happened in the last fucking minute?” he asks.

“I’m not allowed to be tired?” you respond.

He dips his head, nodding as he buttons his jeans. He seems silenced by his own anger. Your eyes sweep down his muscled body, wishing he’d just hug you and ask you what’s wrong one more time and reassure you that you’re more than just sex to him.

You can tell he’s pissed off and you know you’re not being fair, but you let him leave without any more words exchanged between you.

After a long shower, you lie in bed and wish Rafe didn’t leave his smell on your pillow. You browse your phone, trying to distract yourself.

You tell yourself you’ll go to sleep in five minutes over and over again. You’re working at the estate tomorrow. You need to get up early. But you know the moment you close your eyes, you’ll be trapped in your thoughts. You don’t want to think about him.

It’s nearing midnight when a text comes in.

Rafe: princessssssdsssss

You look at your screen in confusion. Is this a drunk text?

Rafe: ur mean

Rafe: but ypur pussy is sooo niiice lol

Yeah. He’s plastered.

Rafe: ans you have cutehands

Rafe: you akwyas smell good how the fuck is fhat possibke

You hate that your heart warms at the fact that he’s clearly fucked up but his instinct is to text you.

You reply: i think someone’s drunk…

Rafe: yes iam

Rafe: idk what i’m gona do with yiu loool

You: what do you want to do with me?

You get an alert that he sent you $69.

Rafe: that

Rafe: looool

Sex. Of course.

You: are you going to make me do every position?

Rafe: you’r efreaky as fuck. i know youd like it

You: true…

Rafe: lowkey ur all i think about

Goddamn it. Your heart is pounding at this point. You try to play it off.

You: oh only lowkey. cool

Rafe: don’t be maddd

You: i’m pissed

Rafe: we should fuck aboutt it :)

You know the answer to your next question, that he sees you as a booty call and that’s all, but you know the confirmation.

You: is that all you want to do rafe? fuck?

Rafe: YES

Rafe: what if i come over again tonigjt lol

You: i work tomorrow. i need to sleep

Rafe: you need this dick

You: omg

Rafe: do you likw this skng

Rafe: song

You: ??? what song

You can’t stifle your laugh at how shit-faced he is.

Rafe: irs good

Rafe: u should giveme a lap dance

You: you’re drunk as hell. i’ll see you tomorrow, ok? goodnight

You think back to the way he looked when you snapped at him earlier and decide to send one more message.

You: sorry i was mean

He doesn’t reply. Maybe it’s better that way.

Your body is heavy the next morning. You barely make it to the Camerons’ estate. You don’t see Rafe at all in the morning. You’re guessing he crashed at whoever’s party he went to.

You wonder how many bitches, as he and his friends say, he talked to last night.

When it’s time to turn over his bedsheets, you take a moment to take in the familiarity of his bedroom. When you pull over a new fitted sheet, you realize just how exhausted you are.

There’s no reason for another maid to come into this room. It’s on your list only. And Rafe is gone.

So, what’s the harm in lying down to rest, just for a little bit? You’ll do a better job when you’re not exhausted.

You won’t close your eyes.

You lie on his pillow. Okay, maybe you can close your eyes for a minute. You’ll count to sixty then stand back up.

The numbers quickly melt away and you slip into a slumber.

When you wake up, nuzzling your face into the pillow, Rafe is in bed with you, his back to you.

It takes a moment to remember where you are. You sit up and he notices the movement, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

{ read part eleven here }

author’s note: shoutout to my readers for being so creative. thank you to this anon and this anon and to another reader (you know who you are) for your contributions to this chapter! ILY!

[lowkeyremi]

JJK CHARACTERS AND THEIR ICKS

basically things they do that make you upset. this is a joke so please do not attack me. y'all already know i never miss a chance to slander gojo!!! credit to my sweet mutual lene (@satorisoup) for giving me this idea!!! GO READ HER'S (if you're into haikyuu)

Gojo

PLEASE. He 100% leaves his clothes on the floor and it really grates your nerve when the hamper is RIGHT THERE!!! and he just leaves them right in front of it. It's so embarrassing when you have guests over and they just pull a dirty sock from between the couch cushions.

Yuji

I love him but I just KNOW he leaves toothpaste in the sink. It's like he doesn't understand the concept of rinsing the sink out after you brush your teeth. You'll finally be making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and there's dried spit and toothpaste in the sink.

Megumi

Always. talks. back. It does not matter he always has something to say. "Well you could have just taken out the trash like I asked you to." and he'll say something snarky like, "Maybe if you weren't so soft spoken I would have heard you." BOY SHUT UP BEFORE YOU GET SLAPPED.

Geto

He is a HUGE gossip. "Mimiko was telling me about xyz yesterday." He just doesn't know when to shut up. People think Geto is a very quiet and kept to himself kind of person but when he knows you he will not stop talking shit.

Toji

There are so many things I could say but the worst of them all is the fact that he will wear the same pair of underwear more than twice. "Toji... are those the same fucking boxers you had on Thursday?" You can see the hem line of his boxers and it looks like the same pair from Thursday. He sets down his cup, "Uh, probably. What's today?" ... "IT'S SUNDAY. JUST WASH YOUR CLOTHES!"

Nanami

He's overbearing with tasks. He forgets that you know how to do things and will bug you until he knows you've done them. "Don't forget to take your car to get an oil change soon." You nod.

A few hours later when he returns home, "Have you gone down to get the oil ch-"

"Kento! The love of my life. I know. I'm going tomorrow." ... "Oh, okay. I'm sorry."

Nobara

Leaves her plate/bowl/etc on the table. You've reminded her on multiple occasions that she needs to do it but she just forgets. "Food was great!" She yells with a smile. In no time she's up from the table sprinting to the living room. "Nobara.. your plate." She freezes, "Oh shit right. I'll get it!"

Maki

She snores. It's not the cute kind either, it's the loud obnoxious kind that prevents you from sleeping. You've tried to get her to change her sleeping posture and find other ways to help but it does. not. matter. By the end of the night she will be holding you close. Your back pressed against her front and loud snores ringing in your ear.

Inumaki

Never gives you any kind of warning when he's going to fart he just does it. HE KNOWS they're a lethal weapon but finds it funny whenever you're screaming at him and gasping for air. God forbid he ever farts while you two are in bed because a dutch oven from him is probably enough to kill you.

Shoko

She laughs whenever you trip or get hurt in any kind of way. She doesn't even mean it she just does it. Like say she sees that the pavement is uneven she doesn't say anything and watches you trip, just to laugh about it. "Okay okay okay, I'm so *giggle* sorry. I should have said something, let me help you up."

Sukuna

Thinks because he's lived for a long time he knows everything and then he gets mad when, "This stupid little talking box won't work." (his phone) "This shit is broken again." He complains throwing it to you. "Dude.. it's powered off. 'Mr. I Know Everything.'" He rolls his eyes at you, "I do know everything you shit for brains." You scoff, "See if I ever help you turn on your 'talking box' again."

Choso

He's always second guessing you. He doesn't even realize it either. The two of you will be driving and he's like, "Are you sure you know where we're going? Should I pull up GPS." YOU KNOW WHERE YOU'RE GOING CHILL. He's just really cautious though which is why he asks a million times.

[phas3d]

Famous!s/o Makes A Song About Him | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: sexual hints (mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom, matt, theo, lorenzo

summary :: you're a rising pop star, similar to sabrina carpenter/olivia rodrigo and you dedicate a song to them

notes :: heavy inspo from @goldsainz and their writing for f1 drivers! i've been binge reading all of their stuff pls go read it :) they're lowkey inspiring me to make my own f1 page LMAOOOO

DRACO MALFOY "i know i have good judgement, i know i have good taste" - please please please by sabrina carpenter

He listens to the sing intensely, he's enjoying it but you can't read his face properly - thank god you were performing on stage so you couldn't look at his judgy face

But as you keep singing and poking jokes at him, he can't help but break his strong stare and chuckle. He hated admitting that you were funny, but goddamnit your fans just recorded him laughing and blushing

Once you finish performing, he smiles happily and cheers. He can't help but continue to laugh and shake his head from his own shock that YOU, the (y/n) who's famous, beautiful, and talented, is singing a song about HIM???

He'd never admit that all out loud, but you could read him so easily, you knew he was wrapped around your finger

Once your performance is over he greets you backstage with a smile that he's desperately trying to hide

"The song was a solid 8/10" he says as you scoff at him, you could tell he loved it and was too much of a wuss to admit it

And you were right, he has that song on REPEAT - he probably gave you like a million streams on his own

TOM RIDDLE "my baby, here on earth - showed me what my heart was worth" - my love mine all mine by mitski

When he first heard it, he's shocked that it's so somber and slow compared to your usual upbeat songs

He's even more shocked when he hears the lyrics and how simple yet impactful it is, it almost makes him blush

Tom has always been a sucker for poetry and music with simple instrumentals, so when you combined those both into this song he felt so loved

Once you finish performing it for the first time, he can't help but smile to himself, looking at the floor and putting his hand over his mouth to mask his happiness

When you finally come back stage, he walks up to you and hugs you tightly - despite PDA being literally vomit worthy for him

It surprises you so much, you weren't even aware you could have this impact on the cold-hearted Tom - but you did and you loved every second of it

Your song plays on repeat for him constantly, it reminds him that he's loved. He's never ever felt that in his entire life, even from his own brother

The song healed a small part of his deeply broken heart and soul, and he's so grateful for you to bring him even the slightest bit of joy, especially because he knows how difficult he is at times

MATTHEO RIDDLE "the boy is mine, i cant wait to try him, lets get intertwined" - the boy is mine by ariana grande

The second he hears the song and the lyrics, he's smirking and feeling so confident. The entire song is just basically flexing that he's yours - but he feels like he should be the one singing about you like this

Everything about the song is suited to match him perfectly, the beats, the sexual lyrics, even the choregraphy is amazing to him - it's like a perfect art piece just for him

Once you finish recording it, he's left dumbfounded and just smiling. It doesn't help that you send him a wink as well, making his already rapid heart beat even faster

After you finish the entire show, he can't get his hands off of you. He kisses you everywhere, does every command you ask of him, and drives you home at 100 mph

He wants to reward you :)

THEODORE NOTT "when i talk to you, oh cupid walks right through and shoots an arrow through my heart" - from the start by laufey

This song was basically a confession to him, which you hoped he wouldn't notice, but he did instantly and he loved every second of it

He had zero clue you had feelings for him, and vice versa. You guys were both known as the oblivious slow burn couple but you both were clueless to this rumor

Once you perform it live on stage, he decides to steal a random bouquet of flowers from a fan and run backstage to greet you

He gifts you the stolen flowers and smirks, "If you love me just say so," He says with a cocky grin on his face

Before you can tell him to shut up and stop stroking his ego, he leans down to your height and gives you a peck on the lips - making both of you blush

"Once you're done performing, how about we go on a little date" He says with a cute smile, making it impossible to say no

But he lied - that date was not "little" and instead one of the fanciest restaurants ever that he paid extra to play your entire debut album over and over for all the patrons to hear

He's your biggest fan ever and posts your song about him everywhere, literally fucking everyone god he can't stop

LORENZO BERKSHIRE "tangled in love, stuck by you from the glue" - glue song by beabadoobee

Oh my gosh he's already your biggest fan boy ever, so when you sing this song as a surprise gift for him - he's freaking out and shaking against the barriers

He bites his lip and smiles as you sing this cheesy love song about him - he's never had his ego been this inflated and he loves it

Once you finish singing, he screams and shouts so loud that even your die hard fans start to judge him

But he doesn't care and he runs backstage so fast you'd think he's the Flash. He waits backstage for you like an excited puppy waiting for their owner. You could almost see his tag wag from how bright his smile is

The second you walk off the stage, he hugs you tightly and covers you in a thousand kisses - your makeup artist won't be happy but you don't care

"Ohmygosh!!! I love it! I love you! You're so sweet! Ohmygosh!!! The hottest EVER just wrote a song about me!!! A happy little love song!!! Is that the song you've been practicing for so long? Why did you never tell me-" You laugh and shut him up with a kiss on the lips and then another one on his cheek - giving him a kiss lipstick mark on his face

He understands you need to go back and perform so he leaves

Oh, also he doesn't remove your kiss :) He keeps it there the wholeeee night

[3rachaslut]

LEE KNOW X FEM READER

ENEMIES TO ???

cw: SMUT. MINORS DNI !!! hair pulling, marking, name calling (slut etc), dominant lee know kinda. that’s about it

a/n: this has been in my drafts for about 9 months and i’ve finally finished it lmao. it’s still kinda mid hehe

“Pleaseee come tonight y/n, the boys haven’t seen you in ages and they really miss you!” Felix whines with an over exaggerated pout on his lips. He knew his doe eyes have such an affect on you and he used it to his advantage way too often, but they were NOT getting the better of you this time..

“Felix, I’ve already said.. NO! I would rather drag my bare pussy lips across burning hot concrete than spend 10 minutes in Lee Know’s presence.”

Felix looks absolutely repulsed at your statement, and you shoot him a sarcastic smile. “Are you satisfied with that answer?”

Felix shakes his head, still with a look of pure disgust on his face.

“Pleaseeee y/nnn? I’ll buy you that hoodie you really want?”

“Urgh fine, but I hope you know that I’m not even looking at him, let alone speaking to him!” you say, rolling your eyes and shuffling towards your room to get dressed.

“I hope you know how much I love you doing this?” You shout at felix as you leave the room.

“Love you too bestie.”

“Urgh.”

——

You and Felix arrive at the dorms with a bottle of gin in one hand and sleep over bag in the other.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin shouts at the sight of you, clearly already intoxicated. He practically jumps off the sofa and makes his way to you, making grabby hands and you couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“Hi Hyunjinnie!” You hugged him tightly and over his shoulder you saw Lee know looking your way. You had tried your hardest to avoid Lee Know for the longest time, so seeing him look at you had you feeling sick. You quickly close your eyes again and lean further into the hug, smiling fondly into Hyunjin’s shoulder, trying to ignore the burn on your skin from the feeling of his eyes on you.

“It’s been tooooo long” Hyunjin sings down your ear, swaying you both side to side and you almost lose your balance.

“I knowwwww” You sang back. Even though you were 100% sober and he certainly wasn’t, his energy had always been contagious. He pulls away from the embrace and grabs your hand, pulling you towards the living room.

“You want a drink y/n?” Felix calls from the kitchen.

“Yes please!” you shout back.

“I’ll help you Lix” Lee know says, lifting himself off the couch and into the kitchen. You make your way over to the sofa where the rest of the boys were, making yourself comfortable next to Han. The familiar scent of his cologne making you feel more at ease. You and Han had been friends for quite a few years. You both met through Felix, who’d you’d been friends with since primary school and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“So… on a scale from one to 10, how awkward are you feeling being within a 5 mile radius of Mr Lee Know, your arch nemesis?” Han jokes, miming a mic in your direction and you stare at him deadpan, narrowing your eyes and he lets out a slight chuckle at your wordless reply.

“Here.” You and Han look up to see Lee Know holding a drink in his hand, offering it in your direction. His face shows no sign of emotion and you were trying to work out why.

“What have you done to it?” You bark, eyes narrowing as you scan his face for any cracks in his stand-offish demeanour but again, nothing.

“I haven’t done anything to it.” He leans in closer to you, your faces now at the same height. “Do you want it or not?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in a daring manner. You snatch the drink from his hand and he makes himself comfortable next to you, your knees barely touching. He was clearly challenging you. Prick. You shoot a panicked glance at Han who only makes things worse by holding in a laugh at your discomfort and you audibly sigh. You didn’t want to make a scene and sit elsewhere but you also didn’t want to have to sit next to HIM.

“Correction, 5 millimetre radius” Han whispers, snickering under his breath.

“You’re dead to me” you reply in a hushed voice.

“Okayyyy everyoneee” Changbin practically shouted. “Sit in a circle. We are playing truth or dareeee!”

“No! No!” Chan interrupts, shaking his head. “Do you not remember how it ended last time?”

“Yeah, well, there’s no fire pit this time CHAN!” Jeongin bites back at his comment, clearly eager to play and Chans eyes widen at the loss of honourifics.

“Okay, oldest goes first. Channie hyung, truth or dare?” Hyunjin says, raising his eyebrows.

“Nope, I’m not playing. I’m not encouraging this type of behaviour, not after last time. It’s only going to end in tears again. Literally” Chan refuses, grabbing his drink and taking a swig.

“Urgh fine… Leeee Knowww” Han pipes up. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare”.

Han looks at you with a mischievous look on his face and oh god, you knew where this is going. You widen your eyes and furiously shake your head but he turns back to look at Lee Know with a smirk on his face. “I dare you… to make out with y/n”.

The room fell silent. So silent you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. You all sit in uncomfortable silent for a few moments until you can’t take it anymore.

“I’m getting another drink” you stutter as you haul yourself up off the floor and into the kitchen.

“Are you fucking stupid?!” you faintly hear Seungmin whisper to Han as you walk towards the kitchen. As you pour yourself another drink, you can’t stop replaying Han’s dare. You shake your head, trying to rid the words from your mind. Suddenly you hear footsteps approaching.

“You don’t want a kiss then?” You hear from behind you and you drop your head in annoyance. You turn round to see a smirking Lee Know and you scowl in displeasure at his presence.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” you raise your voice slightly but not loud enough to bring attention from the others.

“Because I like annoying you. Plus.. you’re so sexy when you’re mad” Lee Know commented, stepping closer to you and looking you up and down, chuckling.

“Shut up” you roll your eyes, attempting to sound threatening, but sounding like a nervous child instead. Your face burns in embarrassment and shyness at Lee Knows comment.

“Why do you even hate me anyway?”

closer

“Because you’re a dickhead who is so stuck up his own ass that you’re a burden to be around. You try and manipulate everyone around you so you get your own way.”

closer

“You might think you can control the boys Lee Know but you can’t control me.” At this point, Lee Know was only inches away from you and you felt your heartbeat getting faster and faster as the gap between you both grew closer. His arms find your waist and your breathing hitches in your throat. Every fibre of your being is screaming at you to tell him to get off you. But… you didn’t want him to. Why?

“No?” He tilts his head as his eyes boar into you. “I think you’d be quite an easy girl to control y/n” He smirks and your eyes widen at his suggestive comment, your cheeks burning crimson. Suddenly, you feel a hand run up your back and a harsh tug on your hair causes your head to jolt upwards. You let out an involuntary moan and Lee Know leans in so close to you, you can feel his breath on your neck that sends shivers up your spine.

“See… Easy” He chuckles down your ear.

“Fuck you” you spit out, although you couldn’t quite hide the slight moan that came from your throat. Every part of your being wanted to push him off, rush over to Han and slap him as hard as humanly possible. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted him. Why though? Why all of a sudden did you want him so bad?

“I still haven’t done my dare yet doll..” You hear him tease and your brain is screaming at you that you hate him! You despise him with every cell of your being! but…

“Please..” You speak without thinking and your breath gets caught in your throat at the realisation of what you had just said.

“Please what doll?” he whispers into your ear and your head was spinning. You whine in response, too confused about the situation to form a coherent sentence. What was happening to you? You absolutely weren’t sure and you were convinced you were dreaming.

“Just..” You mewl. Even you didn’t know what you were begging for but your mind was long gone, revelling in the feeling of your hair firm in his hand. “Please”.

You hear Lee Know chuckle above you and soon enough he is leaning into you, pressing wet kisses all up your neck, quickly finding your sweet spot. You were a whimpering mess and Lee Know was clearly proud of the state he’d put you in, watching your eyes begin to roll back in your head. He makes his way from your neck up along your jaw, releasing the grip on your hair and instead hooking his finger under the shoulder strap of your dress.

“What’s happening?” you say, not necessarily directing the question at Lee Know, rather just speaking out loud. “You hate me?”. You utter as your eyebrows furrow and a slight frown becomes apparent on your face.

“I really don’t y/n…” Lee Know replied, sincerity coating his words. “And I don’t think you hate me anywhere near as much as you let on”

It’s funny because you thought you did. You thought he was the bane of your existence, a thorn in your side, a self obsessed prick. But right now, you realise.. maybe it was just a facade. If you were being honest with yourself, you had forgotten why you ‘despised’ him in the first place.

“Kiss me?” you blurt out, surprising yourself with your confident tone. You see a smile creep over Lee Know’s face and he presses a long, gentle but firm kiss onto your lips. He goes to pull away but you deepen the kiss, grabbing hold of the back of his neck with one hand and pulling him closer with your other.

Lee Knows hands began to roam your waist and back, his hands never settling, as if he wanted to feel all of you all at once. You moan at his touch and he takes that as a sign to reach under your dress to gently grope your ass.

“Want you..” you say breathlessly. “Now..”

Lee Know steps back to look at you, your face flushed and desperate eyes roaming his beautiful features. He breathes a sigh of relief, as if he’s been waiting for those words to leave your mouth for a long time.

“Say it again doll” He speaks softly but sensually, as if asking for official confirmation.

“I want you Lee Know..ple-“ before you even get to finish your sentence, you’re being dragged out of the kitchen and into one of the bedrooms in the dorm.

He quickly threw you onto the bed in a second and Lee Know swiftly makes his way over the top of your figure.

“God, the things I’ve been wanting to do to you” He says as he looks you up and down, taking in all of you. “Wanted to ruin you for so long.” He emphasises his statement by forcefully yanking up your dress, your lace panties now on full display. You throw your head back in anticipation of what’s to come. “Look at me doll”. Lee Know orders and you instantly obey, your eyes full of desperation.

“Please touch me, please” You beg and you didn’t have to ask him twice. Instantly, his fingers begin to trace the shapes of your legs, starting from your calf and then up towards your knee. You let out a sigh of relief at the minimal sensation but soon, his lips began softly kissing the bend underneath your knee and you nearly melt into the bed below you. He trailed kisses upwards onto your thigh as you let out breathless moans. You hear him snigger at your reaction and with that, he begins to suck a red mark onto your leg. You wince at the sudden pain but couldn’t deny the shockwaves it sent straight to your clit.

“Lee Know..” You gasp out as you throw your head back into the pillows. You hear him hum in approval at your response and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles over your sensitive bud. You couldn’t stop the string of moans flooding out your mouth from finally receiving some form of attention on your desperate pussy.

“That feel good baby girl?” Lee Know chuckles, already knowing the answer.

“Yes! M- more.. please. Want more” You beg between shaky breaths.

“Such a greedy girl” he says, as he makes his way up to your level, your faces now inches apart. He lifts two fingers, looking down at you with lust filled eyes.

“Suck” He orders and you comply, sucking his fingers enthusiastically, moaning at his dominant tone. “Good girl.” He says. He let his fingers linger in your mouth for a moment, taking in the beautiful sight underneath him. Soon, he begins trailing his fingers down and across your clit towards your entrance. He pushes them into you slowly and you instantly let out a loud moan at the intrusion.

“So fucking wet already. Dirty girl”. He smirks.

You rock you hips up and down in an attempt

to push Lee Knows fingers deeper inside of you. He curls his fingers, rubbing against your sweet spot and you feel euphoric, arching your back and whining desperately. You wanted him, you needed him.

“God y/n, you drive me fucking crazy” He says, impatiently unzipping his trousers and freeing himself of the confines of his jeans and boxers. You look down to ogle him, practically drooling upon seeing his now, very hard cock. For a moment, you wondered if it would even fit inside you.

“Are you sure you wanna do this y/n?” Lee Know asks warily.

“Yes! Please fuck me oh my god I need you.” You knew how desperate you sounded but you didn’t care, all you cared about right now was Lee Know fucking you so rough you saw stars. He visibly relaxed again and smiled at your enthusiastic consent.

“God, such an impatient slut” He scoffs and begins rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your entrance. You push your hips down in desperation and he thrusts into you harshly, bottoming out straight away inside you and be lets out a long drawn out “Fuckkkk”.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you reciprocate his moans with your own. Once he’s given you time to adjust, he begins to build up speed, your body jolting upwards with each harsh thrust into you.

“Oh FUCK!” You shout out, forgetting you had company just a few rooms away. You’re scrunching your eyes closed and gasping every time his dick hits your sweet spot, coupled with pleas that never stop leaving your mouth. Lee Know leans down to cup your cheek with his hand and kisses you so deeply you thought you were ascending into heaven. You both moan into the kiss and you couldn’t ignore the feeling of how amazing this felt. Lee Know grunts out, his fingertips trailing from your cheek down your neck and towards your tits. He teasingly twists them and you whine in response and shiver as goosebumps form all over your body. He lifts himself upright to take in your entire figure, adoration filling his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful y/n, I cant get enough of you.” He grunts as he thrusts into you harder and rougher, his pace soon beginning to falter as his orgasm drew closer, as did yours. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing circles there and whines were flooding out of your mouth.

“‘M- close Lee Know ah!” Your body begins to jolt and you feel yourself right on the edge of your climax.

“Cum with me baby, please- fuck-” Lee Know barely had time to finish his sentence before he was filling your pussy with his seed, grunting animalistic moans that pushed you over the edge. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of ecstasy and Lee Know takes in the image of you in your euphoric state, stunned by how breathtaking you looked.

He lay on top of you as you both caught your breath and he kisses your forehead, brushing the stray strands of hair out of your face.

“Guys are you in here? Channie hung is abou- OH MY GOD” Han nearly screams as Lee Know jumps off of you, attempting to wrap the duvet around both of your naked forms. You never actually saw Hans face, assuming his bolted out the room at the unexpected scene in front of him. Both you and Lee Know couldn’t hold back your laughter and you hear him mumble from outside the door “Um.. just.. text me what pizza you both want..”

-

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his petite gn s/o wearing his clothes?

absolutely, lovely! here you go:

Astarion

100% makes a comment about you looking “good enough to eat”

but, seriously. he jokes to cover up how delighted he is.

you’re wearing his usual casual campsite shirt, the open neck of it revealing a large portion of your chest - Astarion can’t help peppering the exposed skin with kisses 💕

wants to see you in more comfortable domestic situations with him. I think this is part of when he realises how utterly enamoured he is with you.

lets you sleep in it and watches you dream. can’t take his eyes off how lovely you are.

Gale

you’ve definitely stolen a robe of his, I think. probably wearing it because you can’t be bothered to get dressed properly lmao

he’s surprised when he spots you. takes a moment to just watch you being in his clothes. has a huge smile on his face when you turn around.

”apologies, you just look… radiant.”

you laugh - because let’s be honest, he’s compliment his own dress sense too - and pull him in for a kiss.

he runs his hands up and down your body to feel the shape of engulfed in his finery, smiles against your lips 💕

Wyll

so so so so pleased.

we know this lovely lad is a romantic. there’s something so soft and intimate about you wearing something of his.

”sorry I just needed a shirt while I tried to find—“ “keep it. it looks far better on you than it does on me.”

a grin crosses your face, you stalk across to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“hmm, I don’t know if that’s true… it would look best on the tent floor.”

laugh when he widens his eyes in mock-surprise at the scandal of it all, and you use the opportunity to pull him into a loving kiss 💕

suddenly more of his shirts end up in your wardrobe. he likes knowing you have a part of him with you if you leave the camp without his company.

Halsin

the one most likely to have a visceral reaction.

his jaw tightens. he lets out the littlest growl.

silvanus preserve him, he feels so territorial over you… you’re wrapped in his shirt (he’s huge, you can probably wear it as a whole outfit lbr) and you look so warm and safe. protected. he wants to keep you that way forever - he vows he will.

when you tell him it smells of him and you find it comforting he swear his soul leaves his body

(NSFW) most likely to have you wear it while you ride him later 💕

Dammon

huge grin when he spots you pottering around the forge in one of his shirts.

”why are you in that old thing, love?” ”because it reminded me of you, and you’re my favourite thing in the entire world.”

he grins and puts down his work, wrapping you in his arms as well as his shirt, tail swishing in joy.

wears one of your shirts the next day and is so so happy when you burst out laughing before giving him a long kiss 💕

Rolan

pretends to be annoyed. “get your own clothes!”

secretly so thrilled lol. never had a serious significant other before, especially not one who’d wear his things.

loves how it looks on you. can’t stop stealing glances, appreciating the way it hangs on your body. brings out all the bits he most admires about you.

you catch him looking and wink. he goes a bright red… well, brighter.

Zevlor

“oh, do you need more clothes? I can get some for you.”

laugh good-naturedly at his concern and assure him it’s just because you like wearing something which reminds you of him. watch his eyes soften in adoration.

“ah, my love. you know how to stir this old warrior’s heart.”

holds you at arm’s length while you do a spin so he can properly admire you before pulling you to his chest for a deep kiss 💕

[gimmethatagustd]

gang shit | knj

Your daughter's classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you're his arch-nemesis.

○ Pairing: Dilf!Namjoon x Single Parent!Reader

○ Rating: Sfw

○ Genre: Kidfic, strangers/romantic interest, an attempt at humor

○ 1 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Single Parent)

○ Word Count: 1204

○ Warnings: Shockingly none!! aside from my terrible sense of humor, jokes about Crime!!, and also Namjoon's dimples

○ Notes: Inspired by this tweet. I hope you enjoy the first drabble of my 100 Drabble Challenge I'm doing with @sailoryooons - Please check out Hali's drabbles throughout 2024, too! Happy New Year, besties! ✨

○ Post Date: January 1, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? GOAT - Number_i

“I don’t make the rules to this gang shit. I just play my role.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you cock your head to the side in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Namjoon adjusts his black baseball cap. His bicep bulges out of his short sleeve when he lifts his arm. 

You’re too old to be thirsting for a man like this. In all honesty, you’ve been acting childish all day – literally. It’s the last day of school before summer break, and your daughter’s preschool teacher invited parents to an end-of-the-year celebration. Having the privilege of working a hybrid schedule means it’s relatively easy for you to swing by the school with primary-colored cupcakes in hand. They’re the disgusting ones kids love that’ll stain their fingers and mouths bright blue. Oh, to be a four-year-old. So easy to please. 

Unlike little Yuna’s father, who has a stick shoved up his ass, and for what?

“What are you even talking about?” you ask with your arms crossed against your chest. 

You’d said literally five words to the guy, intending to start a pleasant conversation while the kids ran around the playground and the other parents mingled at the picnic tables outside. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Brooklyn’s parent.”

Apparently, that was offensive.

Namjoon’s sharp eyes drag up and down your body, and you try not to let his heavy gaze affect you – and fail when you feel your stomach dip. 

“Brooklyn said Yuna dresses weird,” Namjoon finally says with a pout that shouldn’t look so cute on a grown-ass man. 

“Did she?” 

“Are you calling Yuna a liar?”

“No!” This man is so volatile. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. We’ve been practicing using kind words, but, well, you know how kids are…” 

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced. 

You feel antsy under his gaze, unsure what to say or do. Are you supposed to apologize? Maybe that’s the mature thing to do. You’re still new to this whole “I’m suddenly responsible for an entire human being even though I barely even know how to take care of myself” thing. It’s a little bit unbelievable, actually! 

“I’m sorry for Brooklyn’s judgmental behavior. What kind of weird-, what kind of clothes-” you stumble through what you already know is a shit apology, “Which one is Yuna?” 

“That’s her.” Namjoon nods in Yuna’s direction.

You look across the playground to the swing set, where a little girl is lying on the swing on her stomach and spinning around with her arms and legs hanging limp. She’s wearing her hair in asymmetrical pigtails, one higher on her head than the other. Her sneakers are mismatched, as are her colorful knee-high socks. Her pants are polka-dotted, her shirt striped, and she’s got a bright purple cape tied around her neck. 

“She’s adorable,” you say softly. 

“She’s weird as shit.” 

Your mouth hangs open when Namjoon shrugs. 

“What? She’s my kid; I’m allowed to say that.” 

“Fair enough,” you concede with a smile, “So, we got beef now?”

“Yup.” 

Namjoon crosses his arms against his chest to match your stance. You tell yourself it’s very inappropriate to be eyeing your new enemy’s boobs when you’re in the middle of a showdown. 

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think I’m down for going to war for Brooklyn. Usually, I just like to blame her bad behavior on her dad,” you say with a barking laugh. You cover your mouth with your hand when you snort. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” 

“You’re good,” Namjoon finally cracks a smile, and, wow, it’s breathtaking. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his teeth are big and bright, and he has dimples… “Yuna’s mother doesn’t let her dress how she likes, so when I have her, I let her do what she wants. Self-expression is important, y’know?” 

You nod because he’s right. Kids should be kids. 

“Plus, I like being the fun parent.” 

“Right! Who wants the parent with all the stupid rules?” You perk up, taking a step closer because now you’re partners in crime rather than enemies. Maybe. You’ll work on it. He’s too cute not to get up to some parental crime with—gang members, not rivals. 

“Not cool parents like us,” Namjoon lightly elbows you. 

“Yeah, they can’t ride with our gang.” 

Namjoon makes a face the moment the words come out of your mouth. He bites both lips, rolling them in and hollowing his cheeks, eyebrows raised. 

“What? What!” you gasp, knowing when you’re being made fun of, even if it’s in silence. 

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again.” 

With a huff, you give him a tiny punch to the arm and tell yourself that it isn’t because you want to feel how tight his muscles are. 

“You’re the one who–” 

“HEY! NO HITTING!” 

Groaning, you throw your head back as a tiny blur of pink collides with your body. Brooklyn tugs on the hem of your shirt, repeatedly chanting, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” until you crouch to meet her at her level. Taking her little hands in yours, you hold them to your lips to give her knuckles a quick peck. 

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that to Mr. Kim,” you admit, “I should apologize, shouldn’t I?”

Brooklyn nods, and the bulbous beaded hair ties at the end of her pigtail braids swing like a deadly game of tetherball. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” you say as you look up at Namjoon. He taps his finger against his chin in mock thought, and you can’t help but think that you’ll actually punch him if he fucks up this teaching moment by pretending not to accept your apology. 

“I forgive you,” he says with another grin that makes you feel like a silly teenager. 

“Y’know, Brooklyn, Mr. Kim told me something about you and Yuna…” Brooklyn immediately ducks her chin to her chest. No one has ever looked guiltier. “It’s not very nice to talk about how people look, love. I think you should apologize to Yuna, don’t you agree?”

It takes very little convincing for Brooklyn to run off toward the swings. She flops on her stomach in the swing beside Yuna, and then, after a bit of talking, both girls spin around. 

“If Brooklyn throws up from doing that, it’s your fault,” you mutter to Namjoon. 

“Real aggressive coming from someone who just physically attacked me.” 

“Okay, Mr. Gang Shit,” you quip back, catching Namjoon’s widening grin out of the corner of your eye. 

“Listen,” Namjoon touches your elbow, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to give him your attention. Heat spreads along your forearm and makes your fingers tingle. “I don’t really accept either of your apologies. You might need to try a little harder to get me to forgive you.”

“Oh.” You feel your stomach twist. 

“Might want to start with getting dinner with me, and then we can see where it goes?” 

Oh.

“I mean, if you think it wouldn’t hurt my street cred being seen with the likes of you, then, yeah.” 

Namjoon grabs his baseball cap bill and pulls it down until his hat covers his face. “Don’t make me rescind this offer because I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how it goes.”

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[piper-2244]

yeehaw

how spencer convinces reader to stay in rather than go out

MDNI | suggestive fluff!

word count: 1217

warnings & tags & stuff: fem!reader, def some nsfw descriptions of spence, all around suggestiveness, fade to black

author's note: second piece of writing yayy!!! this was originally gonna be smut but i got scared lol. anyway please lemme know your thoughts im DYING to improve. sooo yes i hope you have a wonderful day and here this is ig! 😚

Sitting alone in your room, you tugged on a pair of never-before worn cowboy boots. They were most definitely not broken in, and you knew you were in for an uncomfortable night of baby blisters on the bottoms of your feet. However, life is full of compromises, and these were too cute to pass on.

Especially for a night of line dancing with your boyfriend’s coworkers. Who knew that FBI agents got down like that?

You stand and plug in your earbuds, choosing to absolutely blast ‘Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’ by Taylor Swift. Also known as the only tolerable country music.

Dancing out to the kitchen, you wrap your arms around your lovely boyfriend who was preparing a cup of tea, absolutely not dressed for a night of country conviviality. Spencer looks you up and down, a teasing smile playing on his face.

“Hey cowgirl,” he says, gently removing your earbuds. “Penelope has been texting me on average every 10 minutes about how excited she is for tonight. I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh god,” you laugh. “I wish you were coming too.”

“I know. But that sounds awful,” he says in his matter-of-fact way. “Hey, I do have something for you,” he mentions. You look up at him, and he runs quickly upstairs to grab his bag. He comes down and brandishes his very own cowboy hat. “From the times Penelope didn’t have you to drag along with her and I was her chosen victim.”

“For me?” You ask excitedly. He puts it on you. Although it’s a little big, it 100% completes the look. You look up at him. “Think I would make a good cowgirl?” He peers down at you, trying to tell if you’re joking.

“No,” He goes the serious route and you furrow your brow at him. “You hate the dirt. And the heat,” he explains, emphatically defending himself.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t really do well with horses either,” you murmur.

“You do make a cute cowgirl for the night though, even if it’s not your true calling.” He ruffles your hat.

“Yeah?” You smile. “It’s not too much with both the boots and the hat?”

Spencer blinks.

��Have you met Penelope? She always has a lot going on. More than this.”

You giggle.

“They’ll all adore you, JJ, Emily,” he reassures, stroking the side of your waist.

You had known Penelope for a few months, ever since you started dating Spencer. But you had yet to meet the rest of the girls on his team. You were definitely excited, they seemed really cool. But you were definitely also nervous.

Spencer, jarring you from your thoughts, whips out his very outdated phone that he somehow still manages to operate, and opens the camera.

“Smile.” You do so, showing off all your teeth. You move to look at the picture, and Spencer tilts the screen toward you. “See? Adorable.”

You stand on your tippy toes for a kiss, and he complies quickly. A little too quickly to not have any meaning behind it. Your eyes flit down, and you notice a slight bulge in Spencer’s pants that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him. “Can I convince you to stay?” He whispers, half smiling. You tilt your head.

“Maybe” you say shyly.

“What if I told you that the chances are slim to none that you are actually going to line dance tonight? Penelope and JJ always end up sitting at the bar, and Emily always gives up half a song in and joins them. Without fail,” he says. You purse your lips, heart beating a little faster for whatever reason.

“That could still be fun,” you reason.

“Not in those shoes,” he says, rubbing your hip softly. “I know they must hurt; they’re brand new and you’re already shifting your weight between your feet much too frequently.”

You look down at your feet. He was not lying. “You’re too observant. This is why you basically always have your way with me.” You exhale.

“By caring about you? I could keep going. I know that you hate country music. And no, Taylor Swift does not count. She’s an outlier. And she was born in Pennsylvania. That’s barely real country music. You’d be miserable all night.”

“Yes, you would know about ‘real’ country music, Mr. Las Vegas,” you counter.

“That would be Dr. Vegas to you,” he quips, bending down once again and giving you a kiss. You reciprocate, kissing the corner of his mouth. “What if I told you I really wanted you to stay? Bad?”

“Bad? I guess I’ll stay, if it’s bad. But you have to be the one to text Penelope,” you say begrudgingly. As if you weren’t as releived as can be. And as if Spencer didn’t know that.

He smiles and allows his arms to wrap around your waist. Spencer’s kisses become slower, you could feel every aspect of them. His lips, of course, but also his stubble. The air being pushed out of his nose. The hand swiping it’s typical resting spot, your cheek. His tongue delicately tracing your mouth. It all feels so calculated for you, so measured.

And you, on the other hand, are a mess, trying to keep up. Your heart is pounding and you’re sure your face is noticeably hot. And by the time Spencer leads you to your room and sits you down on the bed, its temperature has only increased.

You kick off your boots. He sits next to you, his hands holding your waist, ever so firm. He brings them up, thumbing the inside hem of your tank top.

“All good?” He checks.

“Yeah,” you say, head spinning with all the good chemicals.

“Deep breaths for me, okay? Gotta keep your blood flowing appropriately,” he reminds you, leaning back and taking you in. “Pretty girl.” You blush and his hands move to your lower back over your tank top, delicately brushing over in a way that gives you goose bumps. You shiver.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You’re sensitive in your lower back. God, there’s still so much more to learn about you.” He breathes out.

“Good. I was scared you’d get bored, with your perfect memory and all,” you joke.

“Bored? The human brain is limitless. Your brain is limitless. I wanna know everything I possibly can that goes on up there. Everything that makes it feel good. It’s the least boring thing I can think of.” You blush and look down.

You lean in for another kiss, this time to his jawline and neck. Your hands slide up his stomach under his shirt a little and and you look up to him.

“Okay?” This time you ask.

Spencer nods. “Okay.” Your hands trace up under his own shirt, and you immediately lean in to kiss him, holding his chin.

All of a sudden he’s everywhere. Even sitting next to you, he manages to take over every ounce of your body. He’s kissing your mouth and forehead and cheeks, one hand is holding your face, and the other is mapping your stomach.

“Can we try something new then? If we wanna do and learn everything?” You whisper. One quick tête-à-tête later, you’re sitting on his lap, shifting your hips softly as he held your waist for you.

“I guess I was wrong. You’re gonna be an amazing cowgirl.”