#does that make any of this any better? no it doesn’t

[jinjoohaa]

JJK men when you tell them to sleep on the couch

CW: Suggestive content, sexual innuendos,possessive/filthy dialogue, mild degradation, brat-taming themes. Minors dni.

✷ Gojo Satoru

Starts whining immediately. “Whaaat? Why, baby? Tell me—what did I do?”

You ignore him, and he trails behind you like a kicked puppy. Then comes the switch. Suddenly he’s throwing himself onto the bed, arm over his eyes like he’s in a tragic romance. “Y’mean it? You really gon’ make me sleep cold and lonely… without even suckin’ on your tits first?”

He props himself up, messy hair, smirking now. “You know I can’t sleep without your thighs around my head, baby. Don’t do me like this.”

Starts listing all the filthy things he’d do if you let him stay—“I’ll eat it till you can’t remember why you were mad. I’ll be a good boy, promise. Wanna fall asleep with my face right here—” pats your inner thigh.

By the end of it, he’s wrapped around you like an octopus under the blanket, cocky grin against your neck. “See? I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

✷ Toji Fushiguro

“…Huh?” He deadpans. “The couch? For what?”

You mention him being late, and he scoffs. “Tch. That’s what you’re mad about?”

When you say it again, firmer this time, he runs a hand through his hair and stalks toward you. “You wanna punish me, that it? Make me sleep alone after a long fuckin’ day?”

You cross your arms. He grabs your waist, yanks you close. “Nah. Not happening, sweetheart.”

He leans down, voice rough. “I’ll fuck the attitude outta you, then you’ll beg me to stay. That sound better?”

You shove at his chest but he just chuckles. “I’ll be better. Sorry, mama. But I’m sleepin’ right here—with my hand between your thighs, like always.”

✷ Kento Nanami

“…Did I do something wrong?” His brow furrows immediately. “If I hurt you, even unintentionally, I’d like to understand it so I can make it right.”

He stands still, serious and calm, hands tucked in his pockets. “If it would help you feel better, I’ll take the couch. But I’d prefer to sleep next to you. I like holding you. It helps me rest.”

You feel bad now, obviously. He sees it in your face and adds softly, “But I understand if you need space.”

You melt. “I was just messing with you, Kento. You can sleep in the bed. I love you.”

He kisses your forehead like he knew it all along. “I love you too. Now come here.”

✷ Suguru Geto

He raises an eyebrow, lounging in the doorway with a lazy smirk. “You sure about that, princess?”

You cross your arms. “Yup. Couch.”

He tsks, steps forward, brushes your hair back with annoyingly gentle fingers. “That’s cruel. You really want me tossing and turning all night without my pretty girl in my arms?”

You try to keep a straight face. He leans in closer, lips brushing your ear. “Besides… you talk in your sleep, y’know? Say the filthiest things. Who’ll keep you warm if I’m not there to help?”

You stammer. He laughs softly, wraps an arm around your waist. “Thought so. Now be good and scoot over.”

✷ Ryomen Sukuna

Scoffs. “The fuck do you mean, sleep on the couch?”

You glare at him. He glares back harder. “I’m not sleeping on any goddamn couch. If you’ve got a problem, woman, say it to my face.”

You tell him you’re mad. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight. “You get mad at stupid shit. Tch.”

But then—he’s in front of you. “You want space? Fine. But don’t come crawling back at 2 a.m. whining that you can’t sleep without me.”

Starts walking away… then turns, smug as hell. “Bet your pussy misses me more than your mouth does.”

You gasp. He grins. “Thought so.”

Sleeps in bed anyway. Doesn’t ask again.

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[fatfemmefreaquency]

one of the issues though is that post-secondary institutions (in North America, at least—I don’t know much about academia outside of canada & the US, except for a bit about the UK australia & NZ) don’t have any incentives to make learning sustainable

heck. lately even good pedagogy & actually teaching students well has taken a massive hit, and it was never really a focus here to begin with

for decades now educational research has demonstrated that exams and rote studying for exams does not lead to retention of information: students that study for exams don’t actually learn the material

if universities cared about actually educating students we would never have been using exams to assess learning and give grades in the first place

but giving an exam, especially a multiple choice exam, is easy to do—especially on a large scale. running labs, grading papers, teaching seminars with a lot of discourse & student participation means (a) more classroom hours per course and (b) more office work for professors and (c) generally a lower student to prof ratio

unfortunately in academia in the countries I mentioned above (the ones I know most about) almost all universities/ colleges are run like businesses

and businesses are concerned with one thing above all else: making money. doesn’t matter what they do to make money—the cheaper they can make the product or service they’re selling (while charging more for it) the better

and more work for instructors and smaller class sizes costs money—money a business doesn’t want to expend

honestly I don’t blame students for cutting corners**

things are getting progressively worse in US & canadian higher ed, due to a lack of public funding for universities and a massive corporate culture problem. late stage capitalism is reducing universities to diploma factories rather than actual spaces for learning and inquiry

i totally agree with you OP that learning should be sustainable & not drudgery/ hard labour

but i think the chances of that happening have been just about obliterated by how capitalism has shaped academia

(and this has really accelerated in the last decade with schools refusing to hire more tenure track professors and also shifting towards more online learning. we KNOW that larger class sizes and less face-time with instructors means students learn slower and learn less. but schools don’t care: they care about costs)

**footnote under the read more**

**let’s be clear: i think it’s…not smart to choose genAI because chances are you’ll get caught and either expelled for academic dishonesty OR just get a failing grade. chatgpt and all other genAI are really fucking noticeable still in terms of how they write academic work

if you’ve really gotta cheat consider finding 3-5 articles that say what you want to say and then cobbling together a paper or answers out of their sentences—then go through and rewrite every sentence that you don’t want to use as a direct quotation in your own words (for the love of god do not use a thesaurus for this—your prof WILL notice that. just use your own words and reorder the sentence to the best of your abilities)

this is still more work than relying on chatgpt etc but it’s MUCH harder for plagiarism filters to detect (or for an instructor to notice)

this is plagiarism. you’re stealing other people’s ideas and passing them off as your own rather than coming to an original idea

like i mentioned: it’s a little more work than using chatgpt or other genAI but it’s much easier than writing a paper where you make your own argument (good news—this is like a baby step to that, and will make it easier to write papers of your own)

writing a paper like this is quick and relatively easy, still. in a pinch you can tool around in your library’s database of academic articles for about an hour or two and then copy and paste stuff for an hour-ish and then spend another couple hours reworking the syntax of the paper and be done with it

sure it’s not a paper that chatgpt wrote in 5 minutes for you—one that would likely get you in a world of trouble that you don’t need

but what this does is massively cut down on the mental effort and time that goes into writing a paper—in my experience this takes the process down from 10-30 hours to about 6-8 hours AND you likely get a pretty decent grade

i didn’t use this method much personally, but whenever a friend told me they were struggling to keep their grades up/ pass classes i told them to do this

i feel zero shame about it. we went to a school with more than 40 thousand students and the average undergraduate lecture sat 280 students (often with just one professor & 2-3 TAs). students were never really supported to do good research OR to learn in general

it’s hard to do your best work when you’re handing it in to a professor who isn’t paid to do their best work either—or to support you in your learning

i completely understand & agree with the backlash against students using chatgpt to get degrees but some of you are out here saying "getting a degree in xyz means pulling multiple consecutive all-nighters and writing essays through debilitating migraines and having severe back pain from constantly studying at your desk and chugging energy drinks until you get a kidney stone and waking up wishing you were dead every day, and that's just part of the natural process of learning!!!" and like. umm. i don't think that any of us should have had to endure that either. like maybe the solution for stopping students from using anti-learning software depends on college institutions making the process of learning actually sustainable on the human body & mind rather than a grueling health-destroying soul-crushing endeavor

[liminalmemories21]

This prompt list is great! I can see so many of them going in different directions. How about #90, “Why didn't you tell me?”

@cecilyv and I are working our way slowly down the list. All these prompts were great. Thank you to everyone!

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He finds out Eddie's moving back to LA, and that Evan is homeless, and that holy shit had he not needed to be jealous of Eddie, all within two minutes of gathering up the nerve to knock on Evan’s door. It's a lot to take in.

Tommy takes a deep breath, knocks on Evan’s door. Waits what feels like an interminable amount of time before the door creaks open and Chris' face appears in the crack. His suspicious look transforms into one of his giant grins, “Tommy!” The smile that creeps across his own face matches Chris’. 

He really had missed the kid but definitely hadn’t been expecting him.  “Uh.  Hi.”

Chris leans on the door jamb.  “Are you looking for Buck?”

He scratches his neck.  “Yes?”  Didn’t actually mean that to come out as a question, but –

Chris helps him out.  “Dad got his job at the 118 back.”  Adds unnecessarily.  “We moved back.”

He peers past Chris into the house, and it’s Eddie’s furniture, Eddie’s layout again.  “Right.  Makes sense.”  Except he knows Evan had given up the lease on this loft, so where– “Do you know where Evan is living now?”

Chris shakes his head.  “Not sure.”  Glances back into the house, and then leans in to say more quietly, like he doesn’t want Eddie to hear what he’s about to say, and Tommy has no idea what that means.  “He hasn’t been around much since we moved back.  I think maybe he and Dad had a fight?”  He looks at Tommy like he expects Tommy to know more, but he doesn’t.

He’s had the occasional text from Evan since the helicopter ride, since the funeral.  Had the feeling Evan was checking in on him, checking up on him, making sure he was okay.  Hadn’t really known how to respond, which was kind of why he was here now.  Figured that he might do better in person, or at least it would be harder to leave Evan on read if he was here, in front of him.

He shakes his head, and Chris looks disappointed in him, which thanks, he already kind of felt like a heel.  Has to shift his gaze upwards when Eddie appears behind Chris.

“Hey.  Chris was just telling me you moved back.”  Eddie makes a noise that approximates agreement.  “And you moved back in.”  It’s a statement, but also a question.

Eddie shrugs.  “Buck was just subletting.  House was set up for me and Chris.  Made sense.”

Right, except for the part where Evan gave up his loft to move here.  “Sure,” he says blandly.  “Any idea where Evan is now?”

Eddie shakes his head.  “I wasn’t invited to the housewarming.”

Ooookay then.  He’s not touching that one.  Backtracks to his truck.  Considers his options.  He could just call Evan.  That would be the sane and mature thing to do.  He calls Howie instead.

“So, Eddie’s back.”

There’s the sound of a fussy baby in the background, and Howie sounds frazzled.  “Yeah.  Couple weeks now.”

“Any idea where I can find Evan?  Since apparently Eddie kicked him out when he moved back?”

That brings Howie up short, and he’d apologize, except for how he kind of doesn’t want to.  There’s a pause.  “I’m not actually sure,” is what he finally says, and Tommy wants to grind his teeth.  “Hang on, Maddie will know.”

Maddie does not in fact know.  He’s going to give her – and maybe Howie by extension – a pass if only because they have a newborn at home.  

Calls Hen and gets the same pause, and then admission that she doesn’t know.  His dentist is going to have words with him the next time he goes in for a cleaning, but he can’t unclench his jaw. .

Doesn’t actually have Ravi’s number, which means he has to put on his big boy pants and actually call Evan.  Who picks up on the first ring.  “Tommy?”

He’d told Evan, ‘you call, I’ll always pick up;’ hadn’t been sure it would work the other way around.  Had never tested the theory until now.  And he’s been silent too long because Evan sounds a little worried when he says, “Tommy?” again.  “You okay?”

He should say something normal.  Instead he says, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There’s a pause, and then a cautious.  “Tell you what?”

“That you’re homeless.”

There’s another pause.  “I’m not?  Homeless?  Or well, I guess technically I am kind of.  But, I’m not like living out of my car.”  Gives a half laugh.  “I think I’m too old to do that again.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks again.

There’s a silence long enough that he doesn’t think Evan is going to answer.  Then, “Everyone’s got their own shit going on. They didn’t need my drama too.”  Tommy opens his mouth, to interrupt, to tell him that he does, but Evan plows on, doing that half laugh that’s definitely false. “You didn’t either. You-- You’re not signed up for that anymore.” He huffs, Tommy can picture him waving his hand to dismiss the idea that it’s important. “ It’s not even interesting drama.  Nobody wants to hear about apartment hunting in LA.”

“I do,” he says promptly.

“Oh,” Evan says softly, like Tommy’s surprised him.  “Uh, really?”

“Really,” he says firmly.  Bites down on saying, ‘I always want to talk to you, I miss listening to you talk about whatever you’ve been reading.  I miss you.’

“Oh,” Evan says again, and still sounds surprised.  “Umm.  I was actually going to look at an apartment this afternoon – I think my realtor hates me, I keep not liking anything she shows me.”  There’s a pause and Tommy’s not sure what’s coming next.  Waits.  Tries not to feel too eager.  “Would you, uh, want to come with me?”

He says yes before Evan can hedge the question, or take it back, or say something that will make Tommy feel slightly homicidal towards Evan’s friends and family.

“That eager to see my apartment drama first hand?” Evan says, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice now.

“Yes,” he says dryly.  “I cannot wait to witness the battle between millennial gray and boomer beige.”  He’s not even really joking, but it feels like a win when Evan laughs.

[dastardly-imbecile]

NOTDEER

AO3 HERE

Simon nods at you. He’s tall enough that, at the angle your phone points, the slant of light only reaches his neck, face still obscured in shadow. You can make out, through the barest changes in shades of gray, the suggestion of a nose, the theory of a brow, hypothesis of the lips. Indistinct enough that you could not draw him, defined enough that you can recognize him. --- When you cannot trust your own memory, alone on a trip in the woods, what else is there to do but submit? OR the incomprehensible monster who haunts your campsite is an alcoholic

---

Wordcount: ~7.5k

Inspired by this wonderful drabble by @ceilidho. Also, mandatory nods to the 'Goatman' and 'Fleshgait' creepypastas.

TW: this is some halfbreed horror story, so there WILL be graphic depictions of violence and death! Read at your own discretion!

It starts like any good romance: a grove of darkly flowered dogwoods and a rousing campfire, a bit too much to drink and a night just cold enough that you have an excuse to huddle together. 

It starts like any good horror movie: a storm and a drenched forest, clouds blotting out the stars and the sounds of many toothy things in the realm beyond your sight. 

It starts like any story ever, which is to say a hapless protagonist and a presence that watches, that waits. 

It starts like this: you are sitting around the campfire with three of your friends, trying to spear your marshmallow, fallen into the fire. Giving up, once it grows indistinguishable from all the other lumps of charcoal. 

Darren laughs too hard at that, puts an arm around you when he goes to grab a new marshmallow. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why: Darren’s had a crush on you, ever since you drunkenly hooked up with him at a party in high school, and he’s just the right combination of too forward and too coy to be annoying. Makes rowdy, boys-locker-room jokes, sneaks looks at you to see if you laugh. Loudly talks about some new date around the group, bemoans his singleness in your private messages. 

You haven’t brought it up. No use making things awkward. No use letting him down gently, not when he’ll deny your claims, make it into some big, pick-me delusional-woman deal. 

Besides, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention a little bit. You’d be lying if you said the night and the campfire and the shitty beer buzzing through your veins doesn’t make any warm body look a bit appealing. 

“Hey,” Kelsey says from across the campfire, “grab the bottle.”

You’ve known Kelsey since third grade—the longest out of everyone at this circle. Were neighbors, close enough that when the fighting between her parents got bad, she’d come crawling through your window and you’d sleep in the same bed, back-to-back. She was your first kiss, during spin the bottle in middle school. Sure took that a lot better than Darren did. 

He does, changing course to reach for the beer. His arm brushes you, not entirely accidentally. You meet his eyes, smile, and the surprise that lights in them makes your grin widen.

With a bit of sloppy, tipsy incoordination, Kelsey fills her own red cup. The liquid is piss-yellow, and it tastes like gasoline, but anything is good when you’re already drunk and a hundred miles from the nearest liquor store. 

Wordlessly, Lou holds out his own cup. You don’t know him all that well, as a matter of fact, but he’s some friend of Kelsey’s from college and she insisted on bringing him along so she doesn’t, quote, get all caught up in your pining third wheel bullshit. Quiet, but the type of funny that makes you think he’s been saving all his humor up. She pours him one, and then, without needing to ask, you and Darren. 

Above, there is the distant rumble of thunder. You realize that you can’t see the moon anymore—it was full, ten minutes ago, and you suppose it’s technically still full, but out of sight, out of mind, all that. The campfire is the only source of light in the woods, that and the flashlight steepled by Lou’s feet, and it gives the whole clearing a sort of airy, unreal sense. Heat mirage, wavering light making everything a bit less solid. 

Kelsey pours a fifth cup. Sets it on the ground. Darren raises his eyebrows. “Wow.”

“What?” She asks. He laughs, like she’s being dumb—which is one of the reasons why you’ve never even tried dating him—and juts his chin out at the extra cup. 

“Going double, really?”

“What?” She repeats, looking down, then back, “it’s for Simon.”

“Who?” You ask, tilting your head. 

“Simon? Remember? Jesus, he lived on the same street as us. Remember, when Mom and Dad were divorcing, he let me stay at his house for two months because your folks didn’t like me?”

You remember the last part of that—your parents had developed an aversion to Kelsey because she dyed her hair and got a septum piercing, and they were the type to call that a bad influence—but not the first. As far as you’d known, she’d gone off to stay with her cousins for that stretch of time.

“No,” you say carefully, “who-”

Darren interrupts you, gesturing around the fire. “And where is Simon?”

“He just got up to take a piss,” she snaps, and the conversation’s getting heated, too heated, pushed along by the same things that made it fun—that being, alcohol and two groups who don’t know each other all that well and sleep deprivation—tipping over the edge of delirious entertainment to irritation. 

“Kel,” Lou says, careful and slow, “maybe you shouldn’t drink more, actually. Nobody named Simon came with us.”

She pauses. There is a strange, slow moment, where time stretches like taffy and the fire seems to freeze, and her face falls in a way that makes her look unlike herself. It’s what you imagine a doppelganger to look like—all the right features, all the right proportions, but a different person behind the eyes, windows to a different soul. 

“Sorry,” she says, and it’s back, all her spirits in the right body, “I don’t know… fuck, I’m mixing some shit up. Yeah, I don’t…”

Another peal of thunder. You look up at the sky. When you were a kid, you always had this wriggling thought in the back of your mind—that you should not look at the sky, in case something looks back, peels you open from epidermis to intestine and puts you back together wrong. 

No, you didn’t. Where the fuck did that come from?

“I think it’s gonna rain,” You observe. Darren throws back his beer, throat working in an effort to chug it, up-down-up like a ship on turbulent waves. Across the campfire, Kelsey looks at her cup with faint distaste. After a moment of consideration, chucks it into the large back garbage bag hitched to the nearest tree—Lou follows, though his cup is considerably emptier, and you as well, after a moment. 

Guess who drops his cup on the ground?

“C’mon,” Kelsey says, pointing. Darren looks at it, picks it up with a two-fingered grip like one might a piece of toilet paper on the bottom of their shoe, chucks it into the bag. 

“My bad,” he says, “Smokey the bear’s gonna get me, huh?”

“He’s for wildfires,” Kelsey snaps, “you’re just a fucking asshole.”

She doesn’t like him much. That’s also why she insisted on bringing Lou. 

He holds up his hands in a back off sort of resignation, pushes himself to his feet. You follow—as you do, a raindrop strikes the corner of your eye, teeters perilously close to falling in. By the time you blink it away, there are more—upon your arms, your legs, striking with the force of slow bullets, which is to say not like bullets at all. Shitty metaphor. Blame it on your BAC. 

When you make the trek back to your tent, Darren sticks with you for a bit longer than would necessarily make sense—it’s only when you don’t spare him a glance, while unzipping your tent, that he finally peels off. 

You turn around—the same instinct that makes you double-check the oven is turned off—to examine the campfire. Stupid, because the rain, extinguishing even the embers, but it does make you realize that Lou left his flashlight there. It illuminates the clearing, the four logs, and the absence of the fifth cup. 

Kelsey must’ve thrown it away. Didn’t see her do it, but Smokey Bear and all that jazz. 

Doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep. A full day of hiking—well, insofar as hiking means trekking a case of beer halfway up a mountain, which you think very much counts, actually—has given your body plenty to be tired about. 

—

When you wake up, it’s the middle of the night. If the darkness beyond your tent does not tell you that, then a quick glance at your phone does—the stark 2:54 splayed out across the screen. 

More pressing is the pressure on your bladder. Most of you wants to stay warm and comfortable in your sleeping bag, but the rest needs out, so you shove your way free. Stumble around a moment before you manage to unzip your tent. Can’t bother to look for your flashlight, so you grab your phone, use it to illuminate the way out into the edge of the clearing and into bliss. Not really needed, in any case—Lou’s is still on, and the rain has stopped, which makes the trip remarkably clear. 

When you turn around, you almost scream. There is a silhouette in the center of the glade, made stark by the stuttering light of the abandoned flashlight. Tall enough to dwarf you in the vertical direction, broad enough to do the same in the horizontal, and the only reason you do not shriek is that freeze manages to claw a victory over flight and fight. 

Instinctively, you put your hand out in front of you, phone still in it—and, when that tinny light lands upon the figure, all the panic suddenly bleeds out of you like a punctured lung. 

It’s just Simon. You met him in the campus coffeeshop, junior year of college, because he was sitting in your usual study spot. It was a silent competition, for a few months, to see who could get to the spot first, until one day, fed up, you sat directly across from him at the table. Another month of silent stalemate, both working across from each other, until you’d broken the ice by asking why he was ordering tea at a damn coffeeshop, and the rest is history, so to say. 

He’s a good friend. Kelsey likes him more than she likes Darren, for sure, and he and Lou could spend a century in happily companionable silence. 

“God,” you groan, “scared the shit out of me. What’re you doing?”

He nods at you. He’s tall enough that, at the angle your phone points, the slant of light only reaches his neck, face still obscured in shadow. You can make out, through the barest changes in shades of gray, the suggestion of a nose, the theory of a brow, hypothesis of the lips. Indistinct enough that you could not draw him, defined enough that you can recognize him. 

“Same thing as you,” he replies, “felt good?”

You snort. “You’re so weird. By all means, the spot’s yours.”

He doesn’t move, as you step around him, though you get the sense his head is turning, keeping his eyes upon you. 

“Remind me,” he says, casual, “how long’re we staying here?”

Right. He’d been a last-minute addition to the groupchat. You’d only added him because you’d remembered him mentioning, offhand, that he did some hiking. Well, in his words, less nature walks, more hunting. 

Thank God he’s not one of those guys that poses with dead deer like they’re fish. 

(Guess who is?)

Though, maybe you wouldn’t mind too much if he was. Since you were a kid, you’ve always wanted to cut a deer open, dig your hands into its guts and pull everything out, line them up all neat on a white table like you’re playing offal-solitaire. Push a finger into its eyesocket until you touch the brain, fuck yourself on its antlers. 

You blink. “Sorry,” you say, “spaced out. Uh, three days I think? A fourth, for getting back home.”

“Good,” he replies. 

A moment where you stare at each other, and then you add, a coy smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “fine if I use the kettle for coffee first tomorrow? You’ll have to wait for your tea.”

When he laughs, it’s a deep, burrish sort of rasp that digs into your sternum. “Fine by me, dove.”

—

You don’t remember making it back to your tent, but you must, because when you wake up, you’re back ensconced in your sleeping bag. The only proof you have that you went out at all is that you forgot to plug your phone back in, and it lays by your head. When you blearily prod at it, the screen does not light up, and you groan when you realize it must’ve died. 

Oh well. Get off that screen, enjoy the marvels of nature, all that. Lemons into lemonade. Water into wine. 

You’re not the first one up—that’s Lou, who’s busy heating up a cast iron over the replenished campfire, boxed pancake mix to his right. He nods at you, and you nod back, perfectly content to stay silent when it’s this early—talk can wait until the sky’s finished birthing the sun. 

You circle around to the other side of the fire, set up the kettle over the grate. By the time the water’s boiling, Kelsey is out, and by the time you pour out four mugs, Darren pushes his way into the open. 

“Hey,” you say, “where’s our teabags?” 

“Didn’t bring any,” Kelsey replies, “none of us drink tea?”

“Oh. Simon must’ve brought his own,” you reply, and the group freezes for a second. Not in the strange, unreal way from last night, but instead in the way that happens when someone’s just made a very poor taste joke. 

“Who the fuck is Simon?” Darren asks, looking up from his half-burnt pancake, “some bloke you and Kel know?”

She frowns. She hates when he calls her Kel. 

“I…” you say, glancing at her. Past her, to the line of tents, to the four tents, not five. “I swear… I talked to him last night?”

The last words are uncertain. Did you? You remember him, of course, tall and broad, but now, if you try, you cannot see his face in your mind’s eye. 

“...I think Kel freaked you out,” Lou says, “must’ve been a dream.”

“I think they’re fucking with us,” Darren says, and you shake your head, though you can’t tell whether it’s to deny him, Lou, or yourself. 

A dream makes enough sense—went out to piss, sure, forgot to plug your phone back in, had some tired-drunk-hallucination midway through. Kelsey’s little thing messed with her head, and maybe she’s the one fucking with you, and it worked a bit better than intended. 

When you think back on college, in that coffeeshop, you find that you don’t remember a single thing about a hulking man in the corner of the place. Makes less sense the more you think on it—why would he be there, not a student? Why would you talk to someone like that? Back then, at least, you were timid enough that you wouldn’t correct a waiter on your misheard order, let alone sit yourself down across from a stranger. 

Weird dream. You scrub a hand over your face. 

“Sorry,” you say, “must’ve… I don’t know.”

“Maybe lay off the alc, huh?” Darren asks, like you’re not only attracted to him when you’re drunk. You nod anyway. 

The day passes as lackadaisically as any day with four twenty-somethings alone in the woods can go, which is to say, easily. You while away a few hours in the morning just strolling through the desire paths that circle your clearing, listening to the birds sing overhead, the squirrels bouncing through great leafy branches. Even see a deer at one point, as it leaps over the path, and it dredges some quiet, half-grown memory from some quiet, half-there part of your mind, a dream within a dream within a bender. 

Lunch is canned ravioli, and the afternoon is a few rounds of poker played with sticks and rocks. Darren suggests—a few too many times for it to be funny—to turn it into strip poker, until Lou starts taking his pants off, and then he shuts up. 

“There’s a lake a few miles from here,” Kelsey says, consulting a map as dusk conquers the horizon, “we should go tomorrow.”

“Didn’t bring swimsuits,” you observe, “or fishing rods.” 

“We can skinny dip,” Darren suggests. 

A moment of silence, to emphasize that he’s being ignored, and then Lou says, “scenic hike, then.”

It’s settled. When night is fully upon the forest, Darren walks to the cooler, and as you once again lose a marshmallow to the flames, he yells back to you. 

“Who drank everything?”

“What?” You call back. A moment of silence, the sound of rustling and the clinking of glass bottles. 

“All the beer! We brought a 12-pack up, and we had nine after last night, and there’s only seven now.”

“Jesus,” Kelsey drawls, “you were counting? Alcoholic, much?”

“It’s not counting, it’s common fucking sense. Three bottles last night, so there should be-”

“Maybe it was Simon,” Lou says. The way he’s leaned towards you implies that it was a comment meant for your ears only, but he’s a bit too loud or everyone is a bit too sensitive, because they stop their argument immediately. 

Your eyes fix upon the marshmallow in the fire, past the point of softening and edging into char. When you were in third grade, a firefighter came to your school, gave a presentation in front of the class. You remember he described a burning house and a woman who wasn’t able to get out. Hid in the bathtub instead. When they went back inside, she was melted into the porcelain. Human lard, he said, smiling, smells just like Sunday morning. Anyone like bacon? 

Yum. Your tongue prods at the back of your teeth, and you try to remember what you ate for dinner. 

A tense moment, nobody sure how to respond to that, whether to brush it off or to play in it. Eventually, it’s Darren who half-laughs, half-groans, “shut up.”

He lumbers back to the fire, carrying two bottles in his hands. 

“So,” he says, handing one to you and one to Kelsey to pour, “again, who is he? Some neighbor kid?”

“No,” she says, staring at her hands, “I think I met him… somewhere else.”

“I think I met him in college,” you blurt, and she brightens immediately, meeting eyes with you. 

“Yeah, me too! That’s it.”

“I think,” Lou says, “the problem with that is that you went to different colleges.”

Darren snorts. You consider passing him the cup, but rapidly change your trajectory to Lou. “Woah. Can’t even get your story straight.”

A new furrow has worked its way into Kelsey’s brow, and she tilts her head. “Did he go to our high school, then?”

“I’d know him,” Darren says, and she shrugs loosely. Looks like it takes a conscious effort to clear herself up, to smooth out the tension in her skin and reach down her throat with a hand and wring her kidneys out like bloodsoaked rags. 

“Dunno, then. Maybe he’s one of my mom’s friend’s sons. She introduced me to a ton of those, back in high school. Or maybe I am messing with you.” She smiles impishly, but you don’t have to examine her eyes to know that she’s lying, that she’s trying to cover. 

The topic passes, eventually, but the mood it sets does not. Lou’s some massive horror buff, apparently, and he regales you with the type of story that takes you back to ten-year-old summer camp. Even Darren gets into it, and you’re reminded why you came on this trip with him in the first place—when he’s not being horny or being an asshole, he’s surprisingly funny, good at setting the mood. 

“...drip, drip,” he says, “and you’ll never guess, what she sees when she’s looking at the trees above the car-”

“Oh my god,” Kelsey moans, “it’s way too fucking dark for this. I’m going to bed.” She points an accusing finger at Darren, “and if I catch you dripping water over my fucking tent-”

“Would never,” he says lightly. She giggles as she stands, staggering to her feet, out from the dome of the firelight and off to the dark lumps of the tents beyond. 

After only a minute, Lou follows, yawning and murmuring a quiet, “night.”

And then, there were two. You glance over at Darren, and through the haze of tipsiness, in the flickering light, he looks almost good. Firelight is better than a diet—it casts all the planes of his cheek in chiseled levels of light and shadow, cuts off the extraneous until all you can see is the shape of a person. 

He must notice, because he grins. 

“You scared too?”

You return the grin. It feels like slipping on someone else’s skin. “Maybe.”

“I can think of something to help that.”

You swat at him, laughing. “And that is?”

“Come to my tent. Find out.”

“God, you’re corny. Fine.” You point at the campfire, “you go ahead. I’ll put out the fire. Smokey Bear, you know.”

He chuckles, and for a moment, you almost think this might not be a mistake. 

The fire’s almost entirely burnt out already, but you give it a few more minutes as you go fumbling about for the shovel. Must trek all the way to the cooler before you find it, buried under a tarp, and by the time you return, there is someone sitting on your log. 

Simon, you know instinctively, from the hunch of his back, from the rasp of his breath. You grin as you come up behind him. 

“There you are. Thought we scared us to sleep, and you were just too chicken to tell us.”

He laughs. It’s deeper than Darren’s, sends a tremor rattling through your chest. 

Carefully, you sit down next to him—he left your space free—and stare into the fire. You don’t feel particularly like looking at his face right now. Maybe you’re afraid of what the firelight will do to it, how the shadows will cut him, shave away the flesh to expose the bone. 

You’ve known Simon since high school. He wasn’t a part of you and Kelsey and Darren’s group—new student, transferred in sophomore year, bit of an outcast, from arriving late in the game and for being generally offputting. Dark clothes, dark eyes, unspeaking. 

It wasn’t until you started talking to him, after being assigned to tutor him in maths, that the wider student body warmed to him. Still, Darren’s never liked him—sees him as competition—and Kelsey’s never liked him—still thinks he’s a bit weird—and Lou, you’re pretty sure, doesn’t like him either, though you can’t say why. 

“Can’t believe you drank the beer,” you say, “and didn’t tell Darren.”

“Wasn’t v’ry good,” he replies, “prefer bourbon.”

You cast him an askance look. “Who’s bringing bourbon on a camping trip?” 

He doesn’t respond. Eventually, you add, “next time. For you,” and he huffs out a muted bolt of laughter. 

“You gonna fuck him?” He asks, after a moment. You chew on your bottom lip.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” 

You dated Simon briefly, senior year. Your hookup with Darren was a rebound of a sort, in that way, and you don’t think he took it very well—to this day, he still glares at him, still clenches his jaw when he makes some stupid comment. Earlier, when Darren made that joke about strip poker, he looked like he was going to launch across the clearing and pummel him. 

Crash to the ground, break his nose, dig his fingers into his eyes and crush his chest. You remember a factoid—something about lungs, when spread out, something about the length of a tennis court. You bet Simon would do it, slowly unpeel every nerve from the walls of his chest and string them up around the trees like he’s toilet-papering a neighbor’s house.

Your heart beats a little faster. You bite down harder on your lip. 

“He won’t make you cum,” he says, and you shrug loosely. 

“Then who will?”

He tilts his head like you’re asking a really stupid question. You suppose you are. 

When his hand clamps down upon your upper arm, it startles you—for some reason, you haven’t been expecting him to be solid, are not used to the feeling of his fingers on your skin. He’s cold, despite the fire. 

Wordlessly, he yanks you to your feet, drags you to your tent. You don’t necessarily mean to pull your feet, to resist a tiny bit, but it feels right—makes it righter when he yanks open the zipper to your tent, near-throws you inside. It’s spacious enough that two people can fit, low enough that he must duck, and Simon hunches his back in such a way that the shadows obscure his face, paint him in broad strokes of gray. 

You hardly have a moment of peace on the ground, back against your sleeping bag before he’s kneeling, putting a hand in the nexus of your thighs. Such an insistent pressure that you scrabble to tug your pants off, leave long scratches down your stomach with the clumsiness of speed. The cold air almost stings against your bare sex, but before that’s too much a problem, Simon’s lowering himself. There is a brief moment in which his face is in the light, but you blink, and you miss it—and, by the time you’re looking again, his tongue is hitting your cunt, and stars bloom in your vision. 

His hands were cold, but his mouth is warm, and he licks a long stroke to your clit. Focuses on that, for a moment, sucking on it gently, which is enough for your legs to wrap around his back in half-greed half-gratitude. 

When he bites down upon it gently, the brief nip of teeth, you moan. When you were a kid, your neighbors left their bedroom window open one night, and you watched the husband fuck the wife upon the bed, intertwined as closely together as the friendship bracelet Kelsey gave you. After he was done, he peeled off the wife’s skin and ate her whole. Started with the toes and ended with the eyes, shoved her bones down his throat like a fire-eater. 

How does one eat an elephant? 

One bite at a time!

You laugh. Simon knows you well enough that he doesn’t ask you why. 

Instead, he brings his mouth down to your hole, circling it with his tongue, as his hand goes up to rub at your clit. You push forwards into his face, desperate, greedy, and he strokes his hand down your thigh. He’s warm now, warm as you are. 

“More,” you manage to pant, when he extends his tongue into your opening. If anything, he slows—teasing bastard—and now, it’s with a luxuriating sort of tension that he inserts a single finger into your cunt. Follows, a moment later, with another, curves them down and uses his thumb to spin a slow circle over your clit. 

It’s enough to send you over the edge. Your body shakes, walls clenching in on a gaping nothing, and though the climax leaves you limp-boned and hazy, it’s clear that this is only the start for Simon. He rises to his feet to shuck his pants off, followed by his underwear, which does much to reveal that he’s already hard. 

Good. You’d be insulted, honestly, if he wasn’t. He kneels, and you reach out a hand to run over his cock, feeling out the shape of the veins, stroking a single finger over the tip and smearing his precum about. He places a hand upon yours, gently shifting it off, and the other goes to your waist. Without what seems like an effort at all, he flips you from your back to your stomach. Now, you are facing the wall—he may as well have no face, no body, just a pair of hands and a dick. 

“Eager dove,” he murmurs, and you arch up towards him, wanting to be filled, to be contained and released, but all he does is stroke a slow, almost reverent hand over your ass. “Had my eye on you, you know? Ever since I saw you.”

“Please,” you half-moan half-snap, and he finally obliges with a thrust forwards that takes the breath from your lungs. There is an immediate burn. It is not given time to fade, time to adjust, before he’s pushing himself deeper—you shudder, clenching with the effort it takes to accommodate him. The hand upon your ass, he brings up, brings back down again, a sting to distract from the pleasant ache within you. Less a slap and more the way a man thuds a new car, more possession and less the intent to hurt. 

“Not leaving,” he says, and you don’t quite process what the words mean. Simply nod—you’d not if he told you to break your phone and slit your throat with the glass, you’d nod if he asked if he could cut you chin-to-clit and crawl inside your body. He bends closer, close enough that his chest is pressed to your back and his chin notches into the crook of your shoulder. 

You’re already sensitive from his previous workings, and with this—him, hitting spots inside of you that you do not think anyone else could, not in any sense of the word—it does not take much to bring you over once again. A full-body shake that stars from your core, expands outwards like ripples in a lake, violent enough to make you click your teeth together. Warmth, seeping inside of you, and when he tenderly pulls back, it gushes out in a stream that might as well be blood. 

There is movement behind you, shuffling, and by the time you regain the wherewithal to turn back around, sit up, he’s already pulling his pants on, back to you. 

“You’re leaving?” You ask, trying not to sound insulted. True love you did not think this was, but he could at least stay the night. 

“Some business t’ take care of,” he grunts, “I’ll be back soon.”

It’s a good enough excuse that you let your head fall back upon the pillow. You don’t hear your tent zipper being pulled open, but when you look back up, he’s gone. 

—

Kelsey screams. Once, again, again. 

You wake up. 

She screams. 

It spurs you into action, and you leap from the warmth of the bag, fumbling with how quickly you unzip the tent. Burst into the open air—see, from your peripheral, Lou doing much the same thing. 

Once you’re out, it’s not hard to see why. 

Hanging from a tree directly above the campfire, by his wrists, is a man. Is Darren. His chin is tucked into his chest, and he is naked, stomach cleaved open. 

Strangely, there’s no blood, no puddle. You stare at it, some yawning emptiness that might be horror opening inside of you, look down, then up, then down again. 

His dick is cut off. You think, in some ironic world, that would be funny. 

Lou reaches Kelsey first—she stands at the edge of the log circle, looking up, face ashen and eyes wide. It reminds you of, when you were in seventh grade, when you walked into her house after school and found her Mom dead in the kitchen, a knife embedded in her neck. It was her Dad. They never found him—Kelsey’s always been scared that he’ll find her, someday, do the same thing. 

Your hand twitches. It was you. You killed her. She never found out.

You rub your forehead with your hand. Maybe you’re getting a migraine. You can’t remember what you were thinking about. 

“We have to go,” he says, after a moment, voice high with panic, “c’mon, don’t… don’t stay for anything, we have to go.” He whirls around, meeting eyes with you. “Hey! Where’s Simon?”

Silence. Kelsey, after a moment. 

“You’re joking.”

He hesitates, face suddenly as stricken as hers, all blood drained out. “I…”

She whips around, face almost nose-to-nose with his, “you’re fucking joking, who the fuck is Simon, what-”

“I was with him,” he swears, backing away a step, head swiveling around—like Simon will materialize at any minute—“I… he came into my tent, told me he couldn’t sleep. We played poker and he took all my rocks.”

“No,” you say, distantly, like your voice is not your own, “he was with me.”

With me seems like a better word than fucking my brains out. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Kelsey says after a moment, half-sobbing, “whatever- whatever the hell he is, let’s leave.”

“My phone,” Lou says after a moment, dashing towards the tents. You follow, and when Kelsey catches up to you, her hands lock onto your arm. They’re warm. You place your hand over hers, and wonder how long it takes to make a corpse feel real. 

When he emerges, phone in hand, there’s little hope upon his face. 

“Dead,” he says, “flat-out dead, not no service, dead.”

“Mine’s dead too,” you say, recalling that first night, forgetting to plug it back in. You haven’t remembered to do it since. 

“We need to leave,” Kelsey repeats, “no point in checking.”

You don’t need any further reminding. The path that led you to the clearing is easy to find. It’s significantly lighter, going down, with not even a pack upon your backs—makes the journey feel quick, even if it’s agonizingly slow. You do not stop for anything—not food, not water, all done with a numbness of your feet and the strange fog in your mind. 

“I should’ve known better,” Lou says, as the sun reaches his zenith—it comes out with the certainty of a thought that’s been stewing for hours—“I’ve watched a thousand horror movies, obviously. You both think of a man that doesn’t exist and you get confused when we prod you on it, and we’re in the woods, oh my god.”

“Don’t start,” Kelsey snaps. Her voice has stabilized from earlier, but she still has that wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights look. 

“It was so obvious,” he repeats, “and of course, Darren dies first, because he’s the confident asshole, and…”

That feels a tad insensitive, but you suppose the charitable part of his brain has short-circuited.

“And what the fuck does that make you?” Kelsey asks, “the meta guy? You die next. You’re fucking Randy Meeks.” 

“I know,” he replies, and that quiets her. It puts you on that line of thinking—that of horror movies. Logic dictates something along the lines of a final girl, unless your filmmaker is avant-garde or a sadist, so it could go either way for you. 

You don’t realize you’ve turned back around until you’re short of breath—until you realize that somehow, you have made a 180 on the trail, and are now going uphill. It takes another five minutes before Lou notices, before he stops in his tracks, and says, “we… we got turned around.”

“What?” Kelsey asks. He points up the slope. 

“We’re walking up. I recognize that tree! We just passed that rock! Oh my god.”

He puts his head in his hands. She stares dully up the trail, as if uncomprehending, before slowly turning around. 

“Let’s go.”

There’s not any hope in the words. Another bit of time—you don’t have any way to tell, but you think it might be an hour—before, once again, you are climbing up. 

“There’s not really any point,” you observe. 

“No,” Lou says, and he turns again. 

When the sun begins to sink below the horizon, when the sky darkens like a bruise, you break back into the clearing. Logs to one side, tents to another. 

Darren is gone. You look up at the tree, and see not even a rope mark—and, without the puddle of blood, there is no sign that he was ever there at all. 

“Fuck,” Kelsey says. Turns, kicking out at one of the logs, screams the word, then collapses to her knees, sobbing. Lou kneels by her side, rubbing a hand along her back. Looks up at you, after a moment. 

“We’re sleeping in the same tent tonight. All three of us. He seems… he seems to only get one of us at a time. There is no Simon.”

“There is no Simon,” you breathe, digging your fingernails into your palms. No Simon. You did not meet him in college, did not meet him in high school, he was not in your tent last night and you have never felt his hands upon your skin. 

When you were a kid, you’d repeat that mantra to yourself, there is no, there is no there is no there is no there is no there is no there is. 

When you were a kid…

You blink, and you are in the tent. Must be Lou’s—cramped, with all three of you, but you and Kelsey are sharing a sleeping bag, and Lou is in his own. You stare at him, sleeping, and then crawl out into the cold air. Sit for a moment, in the tent, look at the darkness around and the things beyond it that you cannot see. 

Quietly, you unzip the flaps, pull yourself into the open. Walk a slow circle around the camp, half-contemplating, half enjoying the cold air. 

On your third loop, you see Simon, sitting in what used to be Darren’s tent. Your heart stutters briefly in your chest, but you relax just as quickly. He’s so familiar that it hurts. 

You’ve known Simon since first grade, when he would chase you around the playground, and make you kiss him when he caught you. Kelsey’s always hated him. So has Darren. Even Lou, from the first moment he laid eyes on him. When you told them that you were bringing him along on the trip, Kelsey dug her fingers into your neck and strangled you until your nails were bloodied from scratching at her skin. 

“Hey,” you say, ducking down to sit next to him. You didn’t think to bring a light with you, on this trip, so he’s shaded in darkness, but you can hear the movement of his body, feel the soft brush of his lips as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. “Mourning?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he replies, “Lou thinks he can get you out?”

“Yeah,” you reply, “he’ll try again tomorrow, I bet.”

He laughs. You wonder if he has a mouth to laugh with. 

“Not gonna work, Dove. You know that.”

You shrug listlessly. “Makes him feel better.”

One heavy, warm hand settles around your wait, tugs you closer, until you’re half-onto his lap. You nestle your head on his shoulder. He smells like blood. You dig your nose into his chest, inhale deeper. 

“I love you,” you say. His fingers dig in, the tiniest bit, pinpricks of sensation down your side. 

“I know. Love y’ too much, sometimes.”

“Is that possible?” You ask. He laughs, and you swear you can smell it, swear you can taste it. 

“Guess not. I’d just do anything to keep you. Anything, y’hear?”

“Anything,” you whisper. You’re so close to his heart that you swear it goes straight through, you swear you can dig your teeth in and tug it out and speak to it directly, mouth wrapped around his aorta. 

—

When you wake up, you’re sprawled on the ground outside of Darren’s tent. Stumble to your feet, steadying yourself with a hand upon the flimsy material, walk around listlessly until Kelsey pushes her way free of last night’s abode. She looks around, surveying the space, before her eyes lock on you. 

“Where’s Lou?” She asks. You blink once, taking in the tender hope, the wish—she wants you to say, bathroom, or in my tent, or, over there, behind that tree, peekaboo!

You swallow once, and whisper, “I don’t know.”

It is like some invisible wall collapses, making her suddenly smaller. “What do you mean-”

“I mean he’s gone,” you reply, running a hand through your hair, pretending it’s someone else’s, someone you never knew and someone you know as intimately as yourself, “I mean he’s… he’s dead, probably.”

“No,” she says, “no, we were all together- he couldn’t get us, it’s not possible, I- where were you? Why are you out here?”

“I saw him last night,” you whisper, “Simon. I… I went outside.”

“No,” she repeats, “why the fuck would you do that? Is it you?” The accusation comes with the force of a slap—you’re half-surprised one doesn’t accompany it. She backs away a step, pointing, “is he yours? You’ve- you’ve seen him the most, haven’t you, and he fucking killed Darren because you hated him, and he killed Lou because he was trying to get us out, and, oh my God.” 

Another step. She turns, still staring at you over her shoulder—like you will pounce, like you will come for her—begins a halting run down the path. Accelerates to a sprint, by the time she’s out of your view. You place a hand to your chest, and feel the beat of your heart, and wonder what’s wrong with your legs. 

Not ten minutes later, you spot her over the horizon, still running—if at a flagging pace. She turns, when her eyes meet with you, but it’s short order before she’s back in the clearing, collapsing on the log before you. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” you say, not turning towards her. Almost surprisingly, your voice wavers, and some animal instinct buried in your hindbrain twitches, caught in the throes of death. “He… it… whatever he is, I didn’t summon him, I didn’t ask for anything. I see him, and I know him, and what am I supposed to do?”

She’s quiet for a long moment. Pushes herself up to a sitting position. 

“Tell my Mom that I love her. And my Dad.”

You can’t remember having a family. You can’t remember being a kid, can’t remember meeting those people that were once your friends. Again, you think of the doppelganger. Maybe you’re the clone, maybe you’ve slipped into the skin of whoever used to inhabit this body. 

“I don’t know if I’m making it out either,” you reply. She laughs. 

“What, he’s gonna kill you? Please.” Again, a peal of laughter, and she can’t seem to contain herself, one hand wrapping around to cup her stomach. 

“I didn’t say I’d be dead.” 

That sobers her. 

The sun falls across the horizon. She walks to the cooler eventually, digs around in it. Comes back with a single bottle of beer. 

“Go fucking figure. Only one left.”

She opens it, takes a swig, holds it out to you. You oblige, turning it about in your hand, take a cautious sip. It brings you back to the firelight, to the time of hours ago, to the life that you cannot be sure you lived. 

You see him before it’s fully dark. Behind Kelsey’s back, in the treeline, face hidden by the drooping leaves and the curve of the shadows. 

“You should go,” you tell her. She stares at you. 

“Yeah? Where?” 

“Let her go,” you say. If there is one favor you can give to your former life, then it’s this. If there is one favor he can give to you, it’s this. 

You don’t see him nod, but you push her anyway, urge her to her feet. 

“Go. Quickly. You’ll… you’ll make it.”

You don’t know if it’s any kinder, honestly. Deer chews its way out of the snare, must live the rest of its life with an amputated leg. Still, she gives you a single, wide-eyed stare, before she jerkily walks to the path, takes to a jog in the dying light. 

There is nothing between you and Simon, not anymore. You stand up, walk into the trees, and he comes towards you in the same measure. Keep walking, until your chest is bumping against his, nose pressed into his chest and legs arranged between his, some half-dissolved hug. 

You have known Simon for as long as you’ve known yourself, and where your skin meets, you can’t quite tell who is who, which limbs you can control and which limbs you cannot. 

“They’ll come looking,” he says. You say. 

“Is that a problem?” You reply. He replies. 

“No,” he whispers, hand coming around to sink into your back, “good hunting.”

“Good hunting,” you echo, and it feels like you could stand here forever, as still as the trees around you. 

You look up at his face. Meet his eyes. 

When you lean up to kiss him, it is the only thing you have ever been certain of.

[nghtwngs]

For emotional depth :) reader is really powerful. Like REALLY powerful (maybe part Celestial through some sort of serum/experiments? Or even a prophecy) and she was in the OG avengers but was really young (maybe not all that idk) but basically the Thunderbolts keep her around because she’s one of the only people who could stop Sentry. And he’s like “how do you stay so calm? You make this look easy?” And they like bond (maybe they’re already tg) over the weight of being that powerful

‘cause it feels like cpr

pairing. robert “bob” reynolds x avengers!reader

genre. fluff, angst, slightly hurt/comfort, mutual pining, eventual friends to lovers

warnings. very little backstory/context, which will be remedied in a 2nd part, kinda dialogue heavy

author’s notes. ok avengers!reader yay i had to do the math for this all to make sense though lol so reader got blippity blip blipped when they were like in their early twenties and is now ~thirty. i’m splitting this request into two parts (sorry) cause this ending feels like the most natural breaking point to me

part two. masterlist.

“How can be you so calm?” He huffs, scratching the sole of his black converse against the concrete. “You make it all look so easy.”

You crack a slight smile at that. “Takes a lot of work to make this look easy, but I’m flattered you think so. And calm is not a choice for me—it’s either that or wipe out an entire city by accident. Which one would you rather pick?”

Bob stays silent at that, and you stand up from the ledge you were sat on.

“It’s all patience and discipline, but I shouldn’t have to tell you that.” You walk on the ledge of the building, stepping one foot in front of the other, shoulders shrugging. “That’s all basic, but it’s hard. Usually it’s the most foundational things that are like that. Simple, but it’s the consistency that makes them difficult.”

And then you’re letting yourself free fall off the side of the Avengers tower, much to Bob’s horror. He’s rushing to the edge of the building despite his extreme aversion to heights to see where you’ve gone, only to feel the air blow past his curls as you spring up in flight.

Smiling sheepishly, you apologize, “Sorry, I always love doing that to people. Bruce, um, the Hulk freaked the first time I did that to him. Almost went all Hulk to try and catch me. It was kind of sweet.” His cheeks go all rosy when you fly up to him, still in the air but with your crossed arms laid on the ledge of the tower. You lay your head down on your forearm, finding his bright blue eyes once more. “I think you might like this once you get the hang of things. And it makes you look super cool.” You grin, tilting your head to the other side. “Not that you need to look any cooler.”

Bob’s mouth dries a little at your flirtatious remark, not at all expecting it. You’re just trying to soothe his anxiety, and he really does appreciate it. What he doesn’t appreciate is how his cheeks get even hotter at your words.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

Thanks? Groaning internally at himself, he is almost considering walking off the side of the tower. Not that it’d even put a scratch on him. Actually, it might just be even more embarrassing because you’d almost certainly dive after him. This is why he lets you do most of the talking (totally not ‘cause your voice sounds so nice).

“No prob, Bob. Wow, I’ve never gotten to say that to an actual Bob before.” You wince. “Sorry, we’re totally getting sidetracked here. I don’t wanna waste your time.”

“No, it’s okay! I don’t mind… really. I usually have nothing better to do, so this is a big step up for me.”

“Me lecturing you?” You mock wince. “Jeez, you should get out more ‘cause this being a highlight of your day isn’t exactly ideal, I’d say.”

His head shakes quickly. “No, seriously. I’m alright with this. I don’t mind spending time with you.”

Well, you weren’t expecting that. “Thanks. That’s kind of you—alright, let’s continue. You’ve told me you don’t like using your abilities because of the Void. What makes you believe you don’t have control over that part of yourself?”

“When the Void took over, a lot of people got hurt because of me… I guess I’m scared that I won’t be able to contain it, and that the city will get swallowed by darkness again. And I can’t be the Sentry without the other half…”

You frown, thinking for a moment before a bulb lights up over your head. “But what if that’s it? They’re two sides of the same coin, you, and they must balance the other out. Being the Sentry made you feel great, didn’t it? Like you were in complete control of everything, and there were no variables you couldn’t face. Perhaps—and this is just a total guess, but maybe it’s the Void who keeps you grounded? The Void shows people’s deepest regrets and the stuff we like to keep tucked away, but we need those things. We need them to be better, y’know? It’s a kinda tricky ground since it can easily overwhelm you too, consuming you into the darkness like it did before. But also, you have to learn to control it, or else you might actually end up losing control just as you fear.”

He chews his lower lip, a thoughtful expression now taking over his face. “I never really thought about it like that…”

“Well, that’s why you guys keep me around, isn’t it?” You tease him, holding your hand out as an offering. ”You don’t gotta fly yet if you’re not up for it, Bob, but just let me show you how fun it is. And if you fall, I’ll catch you.”

The sweet smile on your face is one that deserves to be returned, so Bob finds himself with a matching one as he accepts your hand. When you take his other one too, you carefully begin guiding him off the edge of the tower. Even with his fear of heights still bubbling in his stomach, there is something about you that eases it. You make everything look easy, he thinks to himself this time, even flight.

Honestly, he’s more nervous about the fact that he’s holding your hands than he is about being hundreds of feet in the air above New York traffic. But you lead him high enough, protecting his head through the freezing clouds, to where the streets and even the skyscrapers are no longer visible. It’s actually kind of peaceful up here if keeps his gaze pointed around and not down. His eyes return to you, and you’re watching him curiously and with a childlike hope.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” you ask quietly, less confident than you were before.

He smiles at you, shaking his head with certainty. “Not at all.” Thankfully, Bob is able to blame his reddened cheeks on the cold air and not you. “It is pretty cool.”

“You wanna look down?”

“No,” he quickly answers with a swallow, his grip on your hands tightening just slightly.

You chuckle. “The first time I ever flew this high, I wanted to be brave and took a peek down below. I was scared, but I felt such an exhilarating rush that I wanted to do it anyway. I couldn’t even see people—the cars were just tiny moving dots. Even skyscrapers looked small from up there. It’s weird… I think more people focus on what it looks like above, but I think looking back down at the planet is just as beautiful.” You glance up at the dark night sky, twinkling lights surrounding the two of you. “I like staring at the stars as much as anyone else, but we have our own back on Earth too.”

But Bob believes that the only sight worth looking at right now is you.

[cod-bin]

okay babe i saw you were wanting requests and so here’s my shot! pls pls pls ignore it if this makes you uncomfy in any way tho

but hear me out: simon and/or johnny who’s incredibly sensitive during sex. like 5 minutes in at most and she writing away, moaning out “oh no’s” and “i cants” the second it’s more than her clit being rubbed or being fingered, instinctively backing away even though she does want it

basically just squirmy crybaby reader being manhandled

a/n: yesss girl I love this so much! I also went kinda crazy so enjoy lol. also off anon ily. I wrote this with simon cuz I think im better at writing with him because im practically in love with him ☺️

cw: smut, 18+ MDNI sub!reader/dom!simon, crybaby!reader

wc: 2.1k (😳 i did not realize it was this long)

You always come undone too fast.

It’s almost embarrassing, the way your body betrays you the second he even looks at you like that—hooded eyes, half-lidded and hungry, his voice sinking an octave as he murmurs your name like it’s already a promise. And now, on your back, flushed and slick with sweat and tears you don’t even remember starting to cry, you’re not even five minutes in and already—

You’re shaking.

“You’re doin’ it again,” Simon mutters, half against your skin. “Tryin’ to run from me.”

His voice is rough. Gentle, but undeniably teasing, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and he does. He always does. He’s got you pinned, one large palm firm at your hip to keep you in place while the other slips between your legs again, fingers already glistening from the mess he made of you earlier. His touch is lazy, unhurried, but too much all the same. You feel his fingertips drag up and down through your folds like he’s exploring, like he hasn’t memorized you by now.

Your breath catches. Your hips jump involuntarily, thighs trying to snap shut.

“Don’t—” you gasp, not knowing if you mean don’t stop or don’t touch. You want both. Neither. Everything.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mock concern draped in a low groan. “You’re already wrigglin’. Barely touched you and you’re soaked.”

He leans in, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, chest to chest as he nudges his nose against yours. “Still want me to stop?”

You shake your head instantly—panicked, breathless. “No, no—I want you, I do, I just—”

His fingers press into you, slow and deep.

You let out a broken little cry and arch helplessly, the world narrowing to the stretch of his knuckles, the way his hand fills you like it was made for it. Your nails claw into the sheets, or maybe his back—you can’t tell—your whole body trembling like a live wire.

Simon hums low in his throat. “There she is.”

You sob.

Not loud or dramatic—just one of those stuttering, overwhelmed little hiccups that slips out before you can hide it. Your legs twitch against the mattress. The heat in your belly is sharp, unbearable, cresting too fast. You squirm beneath him, trying to ease the pressure even though you don’t want him to stop.

“Simon—oh God—oh no, no, I can’t—” you cry, the words tumbling out between your choked little gasps. “It’s—it’s too much, I can’t—”

But you’re still clenching around his fingers like you’re begging for more.

“You always say that,” he whispers, a little cruel, a lot fond.

His other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheekbone where the tears have started to streak. You don’t even know when you started crying. It just happens—whenever he’s like this. Focused. Gentle but relentless. Worshipping your body even as he breaks it down.

“Every time I touch you, you start cryin’,” he says, and there’s something like awe in his voice, like it actually wrecks him. “Like your body doesn’t even know how to take it.”

You try to nod, try to answer, but he crooks his fingers just right and you go liquid, back arching with another desperate sob.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight, Christ.”

His cock is hard and heavy against your hip. You feel it, even now, even through the haze, and the thought of him inside you—not just his fingers but all of him—makes your breath stutter.

“I want you,” you whimper. “I do, I want it, just—just not yet, please, I can’t yet—”

Simon shushes you immediately.

“Hey, hey, I know,” he breathes, brushing your hair back from your damp face. “We’re not rushin’ anything, alright? You just breathe for me.”

But he doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t retreat.

His fingers stay buried inside, moving in slow, controlled strokes, just enough to make your thighs tremble. His thumb finally brushes over your clit—just once—and your hips jerk again, a high-pitched ohfuck slipping from your lips.

Your legs instinctively try to close, to protect the overwhelming heat building between them, but he catches one with a hand under the knee and spreads you again, slow but unyielding.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmurs. “Let me see.”

“Simon—” you whine, nearly delirious.

He just looks at you then. Really looks. Like you’re something holy. Something broken open just for him.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he says. “All flushed and tearin’ up. Can’t even think straight, can you?”

You shake your head helplessly, lip wobbling.

He kisses you, finally, catching your bottom lip with his and biting it just enough to make you whimper. The kiss is messy. Deep. You’re still crying a little, but he swallows every sound you make like it’s something precious.

“Fuckin’ love it when you get like this,” he growls against your mouth. “You act like you’re shy, like you can’t take it—but your cunt tells me otherwise.”

“Simon—!”

You sob his name again, your whole body locked up with the incoming wave that’s barreling toward you. His fingers don’t stop. He keeps fucking you through it—slow, rhythmic, endless—and you’re nearly incoherent now, little gasps and whimpers spilling out with every breath.

And then you snap.

It hits all at once. Your back arches, your thighs quake, and you’re crying out so loudly you don’t even recognize your own voice. Your body writhes beneath him, trying to pull away even as your cunt clamps down like a vice.

“Thaaaat’s it,” Simon growls, pressing his mouth to your temple. “Cry it out, baby. That’s my girl.”

You’re still sobbing, still twitching through it, the aftershocks rattling your bones.

You don’t even realize he’s pulled his fingers out until you feel his hands slide up your body, anchoring your hips, holding you like you’re breakable and precious and his.

“You alright?” he murmurs, voice rough. “You with me?”

You nod, barely.

He kisses you again, slower this time. Mouth soft. Gentle.

And when you whisper, still shaking, “I still want you,” he presses his forehead to yours and groans like it’s killing him not to take you apart all over again.

“Then I’ll give you everything,” he promises. “Nice and slow. Gonna take care of you, baby. You just cry for me as much as you need.”

☆taglist☆

@h0lydrag0ns @little-mini-me-world @just-lost-inbetween-worlds

[aceecee]

Insatiable - Extra #9

TW/Tags: some are suggestive

Masterlist

They react to their contact name saved on your phone.

MC - ‘Wife’ 

“Hey [Name]?” the woman clinging to your back while you wake up asks. You turn around and greet her with a sleepy smile that grows bigger when she places a kiss on your cheek. You give her a sleepy nod.

“I was wondering what you have me saved as on your phone.”

It’s an odd question to be asked first thing in the morning but as always you indulge her. You reach for your nightstand where your phone resides, unlocking it and passing it over to her. You don’t pay attention to what she does next, sleep catching on the corner of your eyes. So, it’s a surprise when she throws her full weight on you. She plants numerous kisses on you, each one too fast for you, before getting off and tugging on your arms in an attempt to get you off the bed.

“Let’s go.”

You stare at her in confusion.

“Let’s go get married. We can plan a proper wedding later but let’s make it real right now.”

Caleb - ‘Dude’

“DUDE?!?”

Ah, there goes your peace. Shattered so easily by one man. 

Two arms reach for your shoulders and shake you awake. You swat at the arms as roughly as possible, already aware of the menace who’s doing it. 

“Shortcake,” he whines. 

With a sign, you finally crack your eyes open, glaring at the man child. The one who disturbed your precious sleep. 

“Why do you have me saved as Dude?” he pouts at you.

[“It’s what you deserve.”] 

You turn around and try to go back to sleep.

A heavy weight collapses on top of you. “I’m not getting up until you change it.”

Jokes on him, his weight on you is comforting and before you know it you’re fast asleep.

Caleb whines a little, even poking your cheek in hopes you’ll wake up but it does nothing. Your peaceful expression wins him over and soon soft snores are leaving him.

He’ll just continue in the morning.

Zayne - ‘zayniee’

“I overheard a conversation between two nurses today,” the man speaks into your neck. He’s currently holding you in his lap, in a tight grip. It’s common for him to seek comfort in you particularly after a long day. You rub the skin on his hand that’s on your hip, telling him to continue. “They were discussing what name their partner’s had them saved as. I don’t know why but it stuck with me…”

His unspoken question doesn’t go unnoticed. 

You press a kiss to his cheek, it delights you when he gets like this. You reach into your pants pocket, unlocking your phone and finding his contact. You feel his hair tickle you as he moves his head to see better.

“Of course,” he chuckles. You feel his grip tighten on you. “Only you can call me that.” He’s silent for a few seconds before continuing. “It’s a privilege only granted to you. Don’t I deserve a reward?” 

You roll your eyes playfully at his childish behaviour before getting up and tugging him into the bedroom.

The man has the audacity to sport a bright grin. 

Sylus - ‘Boss’

You love a night routine, especially after a long day.

Taking a warm bath or shower, scrubbing yourself clean of any dirt then drying yourself off and changing into comfortable sleeping clothes. You follow it by your skincare, all while thinking of your nice comfortable bed that you’ve missed. 

So, when you’re greeted by Sylus lazing on your bed like it’s his (you don’t care if he paid for it), scrolling through your phone, frustration rings through you at an alarming speed. The towel around your neck goes flying at him only to be stopped in the air by a red mist holding it in place.

“Now, that’s just rude,” he teases. “Here I was hoping to cuddle and instead I’m under attack,” he clutches the area where his heart is.

You roll your eyes at him. [“Give me my phone, you ass.”]

“What? This little thing?” He holds the phone up, smirking when you nod. “Only if you explain why I’m saved as Boss?” You know the close-eyed smile he gives you is not meant to be as carefree as it looks. 

[“Well…you are my boss, are you not?”]

The man blinks at you.

“I’ve been inside you.”

Xavier - ‘Sleepyhead’

His arms are wrapped tightly around you. 

The two of you are currently at your place. It’s your monthly cooking class for him. It all started when he made (and failed…spectacularly) you some pancakes. He proposed that you teach him after but due to your hectic schedules you can only do it once a month. To you it was an opportunity to better his cooking but to the sly fucker, it was all an excuse to have you to himself. 

An entire day, with no else around? Just you and him. It was heaven for him.

The rice dish you prepared together is on the stove, on low. It’ll need an hour more to cook so to pass the time, Xavier demanded cuddles and you wanted to watch your show. He flashed you those dumb blue eyes and so, you reached a compromise. 

That leads you to now, sitting on his lap on the couch while watching the new episode of your show. “So, it was the stepmother all along,” Xavier whispers into your neck. You nod, [“I told you so.”] You offer him the bowl of popcorn, stuffing some into his mouth when he just opens it in response. He should know better than to doubt your knowledge of shitty dramas. 

Your phone pings with a notification. You reach for the coffee table and pick it up. It’s a message from Mara confirming about your lunch date tomorrow. You think nothing of it as you respond, not realising Xavier’s focused look on your screen.

“If she’s Wife then what am I saved as?” he asks. No answer other than Husband will suffice but you don’t know that. You show him. 

“Sleepyhead? Why am I Sleepyhead? Why not ‘Love of my life’, or ‘Only one for me’?”

You laugh at the offended look on his face, completely unaware of the danger you’ve placed yourself in. Suddenly, you’re thrown back on the couch with him hovering above you.

“I’m angry now,” he leans in to kiss you. “Since it’s your fault, fix it.”

Rafayel - ‘Public Nuisance’ 

You had been curious about Rafayel’s process of using items like seashells in his works. As a result of your ask, you had spent the entire day together. First, gathering seashells on the beach. You should’ve gone back to his house after but he insisted on eating first, stating you’ll need it for energy. 

And he was right. You’ve collapsed on his couch, your arms are about to fall off. If you knew the process involved grinding the seashells over and over again until they became powder, you would have never signed on in the first place. But you had to admit, it was cute how excited he was to tell you all about it. It’s your favourite thing in the world, watching those you love tell you about things that bring them joy. 

He laughs when you let out a groan. “I never said it would be easy, pretty.” You can only pick your head up and glare in response. “Will you forgive me if I order some food?” he sports an amused expression as you eagerly nod. “Where’s your phone then?” You point your leg in the direction of your bag.

Rafayel digs through your bag as you close your eyes and rest. It shouldn’t excite him that you trust him around your things. He easily unlocks your things since you never kept your password a secret. On the screen, he comes across a notification of an old message. 

Ha! What poor sucker did she name Pu…

Concerned with how quiet he’s being, you open your eyes, only to stare right into your screen. “Explain this to me, brat,” he huffs. You raise an eyebrow in question. He leans his face right into yours. “Who names their lover that?”

[“Maybe you shouldn’t perfectly embody that name, then?”] You give him a smirk.

You swear his eye twitches, his reactions are exactly why you love teasing him. 

“You’re on a Rafayel ban from now on, pretty. No more of me until you apologize and change the name,” he storms off, dramatically closing his bedroom door with a loud thud.

The doorbell still rings though, ten minutes later, as a delivery man drops off food.

AN: Should I stop making Caleb so puppy-like? Probably. Will I though? Nope.

Tag List: @serenity-loves-red @crimsonmarabou @reni502 @r0ckb1n @queenkymmie @plzdonutpercieveme @perqbeth @mephisto-with-a-knife @tumblingdevils @angelwhizpers @eolivy @yuurisfavblog @miuangel @young-adult-summer @loreleis-world

[xylatox]

One room over || csb

Izzy I am finally reading it god <//3 I am so excited literally the jjk mention alone has me giddy 

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. 

I love it when brackets are used like this in fics and ugh. Mc’s first interaction with soobin is so cute i could cry.

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.” 

This is so cute ahhh :((((( 

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them. 

I will always be soft when the guy just falls first and doesnt do anything about it

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

I wouldve loved to see how this would play out

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what. 

IZZY I WILL PASS OUT

 “I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off. 

No another man got her😔 And a moment to appreciate how bubbly her personality is its so cute

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you. 

Oh he knows I just know he does

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together. 

This has me so giddy >< I love this streamer au so bad

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.” 

CRYING GIGGLY EVERYTHING EEK!!

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster. 

Izzy :(((( im so soft oh my god

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. 

I would do this too if i was her

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.” 

Oh hes so in love with her with that mentions of The Shade

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” 

FINALLY AHHH!!!

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.” 

Theyre so cute ill fucking pass out

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing. 

Man they are so darn cute fr

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach. 

This line >>>

I LOVE how awkward Soobin is its so him coded hes so cute ugh

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it? 

Crying I love JJK and I love them :::( they really do fit them

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–” 

I KNEW IT. IZZIY i swear I thought it was a guy then i thought i misread and oh my god I KNEW ITTTT

He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.” 

I WILL PASS OUT. I love how bottom coded soobin is someone sedate me

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush.

O god i really will pass out

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

OMG I CANT BELIEVE IT ENDED :((( IZZY im so glad i finally got to reading this oh my god its so sweet i swear. I love them soso bad

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

IN WHICH after looking for an apartment for months you finally find a nice place, but it's too big and expensive for you to live alone in it so you ask her two best friends, hoping they could help you out.

pairing– childhood bsf!Choi Soobin x fem!reader

featuring– original characters, members of txt

genre– Fluff, Smut

contains– foreigner!reader, jealous!soobin, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, roommates au, streamer!soobin, streamer!beomgyu, uni romance, sunshine!reader, she has a lively personality, Soobin is in love, like really desperately so, Soobin has a license and a car, one sided pining, Soogyu shipped as a joke, jujutsu kaisen mentioned

smut warnings– inexperienced!Soobin, dry humping, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, breast play, missionary, oral (f. receiving)

word count– 20k

playlist

↪ izzy speaks... I'm finally getting to my old ideas!! I was so excited to write this (even though I struggled a bit as I actually don't play many games myself) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I hope you'll enjoy it just as much <3

only lightly proofread!

The first memory of Soobin you have is from when you were ten, freshly moved into town, with no idea how to say anything but a short and simple introduction. You were in Korea for a month, still trying to figure out the alphabet and all the school paperwork in your hands written in what seemed like hieroglyphics as you walked through the school hallway, trying to find your way around. 

“I give up,” you groan, your hands falling back to your sides as you look around, hoping for any clue on where the principal’s office might be. You debate calling your dad, asking him to pick you up and begging him in the car to turn down his promotion after all and take you back home because it’s hell here, but you stop yourself. 

Instead, you take a few eager steps forward, determined to reach the office no matter what. But to your luck, you find yourself on the other side of the school, blinking quickly as you try to make sense of the situation unfolding in front of you. Three guys hovering over another boy who keeps his eyes on the textbook in front of him, trying to make it look like he isn’t intimidated by them. But you notice the slight flinch of his arm when one of them raises his voice. 

You frown, trying to find the right words. Whatever you could say, you weren’t sure if they would understand you. You knew there wasn’t a high chance of them speaking English, and you definitely didn’t know how to tell them to get lost in their language. 

You’re not sure how much time passes when you just stand there, trying to figure something out but eventually, they notice you. You watch them exchange some words that sound like curses, completely ignoring your presence as they press him further, demanding something from the poor boy in the chair. 

“Leave him–” Before you can finish your sentence, a strong voice interrupts you, the Korean echoing through the empty classroom. It makes them all back up without hesitation and you turn around as well to see what was so scary behind you. Your eyes meet with an older man who you can only assume is one of the teachers. He asks you something but you just shake your head, trying to explain that you don’t understand him. It’s useless because before you can even open your mouth, his attention redirects to the boys behind you, talking to them instead. 

After a short moment, his eyes travel back to you, tilting his head slightly as he observes you. “You’re the new foreign student?” Your eyes widen at his English, immediately nodding. You introduce yourself, asking him about the principal’s office. “Yeah, you’re all going to the principal’s office,” he mumbles, yelling at the boys again. You blink a few times, watching them pass by and grumble something under their breath as they follow the teacher outside. 

The boy from the chair walks last, his head down and his bag swinging on his shoulder. He looks around your age, even though his height suggests otherwise. You quickly catch up to him, asking if he’s okay. He glances at you, scanning your features before nodding. You smile, offering him your hand with a memorized introduction. “Soobin,” he hesitates before grabbing your hand, frowning a bit as you shake it. He doesn’t say anything else and you don’t either, just quietly walking towards the principal’s office, preparing to get questioned about what had happened. 

You quickly learnt the names of the three guys in your first week, everyone telling you to stay away from them when they heard about the incident you walked in on. Apparently, ‘Hyunwoo and his dogs’ as the kids liked to call them, were quite famous for their behaviour. From drawing on all the possible tables in school to more violent rumors, one you might have saved Soobin from that day. 

You haven’t seen him since, but you found other friends. A girl that you were seated beside (Thank you, seating chart, you say to this day) and her older sister Jisoo, who you later found out was in the same class as Soobin. She helped you understand a lot of materials and kindly explained everything she could within her English skills, while Jisoo took you under her wing in the social sense, telling you everything about everyone and making sure you knew who to avoid interacting with. You were grateful to both of them, you still are to this day. 

The second time you met Soobin was almost six months later in the hallway when you were rushing to your next class and accidentally bumped into an upperclassman. You mumbled an apology and tried to push past but it was already too late.

 “Watch where you’re going,” Taeyang, one of Hyunwoo’s ‘dogs’ pushes you, and before you can stop the fight from happening, a group of kids creates a circle around you, some of them cheering and some whispering about what is happening. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“Foreigner is fighting with Taeyang in the hall right now!” 

Soobin immediately looks up from his textbook, eyes widened as he watches everyone in the class stand up and rush outside to see the situation for themselves. “Oh god,” Jisoo mumbles from behind him, quickly pushing through others to get there first. He stays seated for a while, waiting for everyone to leave before standing up and making his way out. 

The argument is already at its peak when he arrives, trying to make his way through the crowd of people. 

“Let’s go,” Jisoo tries to tug at the hem of your shirt. “Stay out of it, Yoon,” Taeyang warns her immediately, taking a step forward. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look up at him, ready to take whatever is coming. “This little bitch thinks she can push me and then tell me to watch where I’m going.” 

“That’s enough.” You jerk your head to the side when you hear the voice, your brows furrowing in confusion as you watch Soobin place his hand on Taeyang’s shoulder and push him back. “You’re crossing the line. Leave.” It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he wants to argue, fight maybe even, but with the way Soobin towers over him and stares him down, it leaves him no other choice but to back up. 

“You think you can scare me?” 

“I don’t care if you’re scared. What I care about is that you’re going too far. Especially since you’re in the wrong,” he states calmly, casually moving to stand between him and you, covering both you and Jisoo from Taeyang’s sight completely. You blink a few times, confusedly glancing between your friend and the giant in front of you. 

“Soobin doesn’t do fights,” Jisoo leans in to whisper into your ear. “No matter if Yeonjun or Beomgyu are involved, he avoids these situations no matter what.” 

“Whatever,” Taeyang mumbles after a moment of hesitation, pushing past the crowd to get away. You watch him confusedly, trying to figure out how. How could he start a whole fight with you just to run away the second another boy shows up? 

“Are you okay?” Soobin’s soft voice takes you out of your thoughts, making you look at him again. “Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you, Soobin.” 

After that day, it became somehow easier for you to find your way into his life. Joining him at lunch, going to his class during break to spend time with Jisoo but eventually just striking up a conversation with him instead. You just wanted to befriend him. 

And you did. 

Everything turned into a routine shortly after, from eating together and spending time with each other during breaks, to studying together and hanging out outside of school as well. You often accompanied him to pc cafe’s and laughed as he argued with his best friend over who was better, and in return, he always paid for your drink. It was comfortable with Soobin, and you soon started calling him your best friend. 

For Soobin, it was the same. It was comfortable hanging out with you. He could be himself without having to worry about what you thought of him. He watched you get along with his friends, immediately blending in, he admired you as you told him about your day when he walked you home—also a routine you started after a few months when you realized you live in the same direction—and he was there for you every time. No matter how bizarre your problem was, he was there, and he made sure you understood that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

But over time, his affection towards you started turning into something more. He started noticing the little things you did, like scratching your nose when you tried to focus on something really hard, or how you always doodled in the corner of your notebook when you were zoning out. He tried not to pay attention to those things at first and ignore the weird feeling in his stomach every time he talked to you, but he eventually realized that wasn’t an option. 

So, he let his feelings get the best of him. He’s never done anything about them, but they were there and he knew about them. 

Jisoo caught onto them as well, he believes. She never said anything to him about it or you as far as he knew but it was obvious from the way she looked at him whenever he was around you. Still, he acted as if he couldn’t see it, deciding it would be for the best to just ignore whatever he was feeling so he wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

“Soobin!” The fifteen year old turned around immediately at the familiar voice, his eyes wide with question as you ran into his class, the biggest grin on your face. “Yes?” 

You hold up a piece of paper in front of him, beaming like the ray of sunshine he knows you as. “Look!” 

“I told you you’d do great,” he smiles back, scanning the A- on top of the page written in red ink with his eyes. “It’s only thanks to you! God, I could kiss you right now!” You exclaim, almost tearing the paper in half from excitement. 

Please do. His eyes soften but he doesn’t say anything, biting back the words that hang on the tip of his tongue. He can’t. No matter how much his heart wants to, he knows better than to be reckless and admit his feelings in the middle of the classroom just because you said something you don’t even mean. 

His hand moves up on its own, coming to cup your face. But when he realizes what he’s doing, he quickly pats your head instead. That was the first and last time he was close to confessing or taking a step forward he could never take back again. He couldn’t. The more he watched your smile, the more he knew he had to hold back his feelings no matter what. 

“Let’s go, you should get to your next class,” he mumbles instead, averting his eyes from you. Get a grip. 

You blink at him through your lashes but nod. He’s right. You do need to get to your next class. You just wanted to show him your accomplishment first. After all, he was the one who sat with you and explained all the material to you for hours. “I’ll see you later then,” you smile, hiding the test result back into your bag. “Our place?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, something you can’t quite name flickering in his eyes. 

The soft ringtone echoes through the room, the flash making Soobin glance to the side. “Fuck,” he mumbles, focusing on his monitor again. “I need to take this, you got it for a second?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” his best friend, Beomgyu, answers, and Soobin immediately mutes himself, giving an apologetic look into the camera for his watchers. He notices a few comments asking who is calling him and what kind of call he is receiving but he doesn’t answer any of them, picking up his phone and turning off his webcam. 

“Soobie!” You exclaim and his lips immediately curve into a smile. “Yeah?” He asks, relaxing in his gaming chair. “I found the perfect apartment!” You explain and his eyes immediately widen in excitement as well. You’ve been looking for weeks now but everything was always either too pricey or far from university. “Yeah?” He’s pretty sure you can hear the smile in his voice but he doesn’t care. “Is it close?” 

“Super close! I could even skate to school if I wanted to.” 

“You? Skate?” He snorts. “Like on a skateboard?” Just the idea of seeing you trying to balance a skateboard was hilarious to him. He knew that if you put your mind to it you could do it, but until then, he was free to imagine you falling over and over again. 

 “I could learn from Ryan,” you roll your eyes. Right. There he was again. Soobin’s smile falters for just a second, his mind drifting to the “absolute love of your life” as you like to call him. You knew him for just a little over a year and somehow, he managed to become one of your best friends. Which, if he was honest, was pissing him off. 

It felt as if you were incapable of leaving him out of conversations and even though he knew he had no right to feel this way, he was jealous. 

“Sure you could. Call me when you do so I can come along and see you fall over and over again.” And so I could make sure he doesn’t try anything. 

“As much as I love you, you’re such a brat sometimes,” you shake your head at him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “You got that from Beomgyu.” 

“Take that back,” he fake gasps, making you laugh. There is a smile on his face again right away, his eyes softening when he listens to your laugh. “Anyway, that’s not why I called. I was thinking…maybe, we could come look at the apartment together again tomorrow. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It’s definitely too big for me to live there alone.” 

“Are you suggesting I move in with you?” Soobin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if this is a joke or one of his many dreams coming true. There was no way, right? “And finally get to escape Beomgyu’s nasty room? Please.” You laugh on the other side of the phone, again. 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that.” 

“Good thing he is in his room with headphones and I’m muted then.” 

“Wait, shit, am I interrupting your stream?” Your eyes widen immediately, apologies slipping from your lips. “It’s fine,” he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. But…you’re serious, right? This isn’t one of your jokes?” 

“I swear on my family that I seriously want to move in with you,” you assure him. Soobin could feel his smile growing even wider, looking at his computer screen to make sure he was still muted and his webcam was off. He wasn’t sure how he would explain his smile if he weren’t. He must have looked stupid smiling like a ray of sunshine just because his best friend was calling. 

“Isn’t it still too big though? Don’t you want to look for something smaller?” 

“I’m actually planning on calling Ryan right after we hang up. He’s been looking for a place as well so we could kill two birds with one stone. I wanted to ask you first, though.” 

“Ryan?” Seriously? What was with his luck lately? “None of your girlfriends?” 

“I do not want to be the reason you start hooking up with Jisoo or any other of my friends for that matter. So no, none of my girlfriends,” you roll your eyes, chuckling. You think it’s a joke, it was meant to sound like that, but before you can add to it, he interrupts you. “I don’t want to hook up with any of your friends,” he grumbles, taking it more seriously than he should. You frown, “Okay? Sorry, I didn’t think you would actually hook up with my friends.” 

Soobin sighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what’s gotten into him all of a sudden. “No, I’m sorry. So, tomorrow you said? What time?” 

“Two pm! I remember your schedule correctly, right? You don’t have a lesson then, do you?” 

“Nope, two pm is great,” he nods slightly, looking at the chat under his stream. They were currently laughing at something Beomgyu did but he wasn’t sure what it was. “I should get back, looks like Beomgyu did something stupid.” 

“Yeah, of course. Have fun, I’ll join in a bit,” you smile, saying your goodbyes before hanging up. Soobin rests his head against his chair as he places his phone down again, groaning quietly as he hides his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure if this little arrangement you had in mind would work but he wasn’t going to miss out on his chance just because of some one-sided beef he has with Ryan. That would just be stupid. 

So the next day, he finds himself standing in front of the address you provided him at 1:50, nervously looking around and trying to find you with his eyes. Instead, his eyes fall on a boy, his fluffy hair falling in front of his eyes. “Hey,” he calls at Soobin, making him force a smile as he waves at him awkwardly. “You got here earlierly.” 

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to make a bad impression before even moving in.” Ryan chuckles, nodding, “Didn’t expect any less from you.” Soobin frowns, trying to figure out what that even means. He doesn’t say anything else though, simply joining him by his side. 

Ryan is around Soobin’s height, slightly taller actually. His hair is black, catching small waves at the ends, and his eyes are a lighter shade of brown than Soobin’s. He’s in all black, like every time he’s met him, comfortable in his loose shirt and jeans. Every time they stand beside each other, Soobin wonders if that’s what you’re into. He looks down on his outfit, a white button-up with light blue jeans, a completely different aesthetic from Ryan’s. 

Soobin shakes his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what he was worried about. Sure, Ryan might play the guitar, make music, skate, possess English skills that he could only dream about and be a foreigner (which was also the reason you started talking to him in the first place), but that didn’t mean he was going to steal you from him, did it? 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to arrive as well, greeting both boys with a hug. Soobin’s hands wrap around your waist, carefully inhaling the soft scent of your hair as he lingers in the hug for a little longer than he should. You giggle as you step back, smiling at them warmly. “Should we then?” 

You follow the owner around the empty house, pointing at certain areas and chatting about how you could decorate it and where to put what furniture. Both guys just keep nodding to you, figuring it was for the best to just have your moment. You don’t mind. 

“Okay, I’ll let you look around on your own. Just shut the door when you leave and send me a text,” she squeezes your arm lightly with a warm smile and you nod immediately. She’s sweet and has been treating you with nothing but respect and kindness since she laid her eyes on you so it was easy to return the favor to her. 

“I will. Have fun on your date,” you smile, prompting the guys to say their goodbyes as you watch her leave. “You two have gotten close,” Ryan comments with a snort, making you roll your eyes. “Yeah well, I want to live here so it’s normal to have a good relationship with the owner, don’t you think?” He shakes his head at you but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Well then, what do you think?” You look between the two boys, hopeful. Soobin smiles at you immediately, unable to hold back when he sees the spark in your eyes. “It’s really pretty,” he mumbles, his eyes soft. You beam right away and it makes him even less sure if he was talking about the apartment or you. “Yeah, you weren’t lying when you said it was, and I quote: ‘the only and greatest apartment to ever exist.’” Ryan laughs. You resist the urge to kick him in the leg and decide to turn to Soobin instead. 

“I’ve heard the connection is great and the internet doesn’t crash or anything, so you could stream and play games without any problem. And! We could set your console in the living room and play together on the couch, that’d be fun, right?” 

Soobin nods, “Yeah, that sounds great.” 

“So you guys are happy? We can talk about the arrangement and settle everything? Please say yes, I’m going insane over here.” Both boys chuckle and nod, making you jump up immediately. “Okay, in that case what do you think about…” 

The three of you walk around the apartment once again, deciding where to have the kitchen corner, which bathroom will be yours and which the boys, and then also assigning the bedrooms. Ryan immediately took dips on the smallest one, saying something about it being cozy and just spacious enough for him and his music, which left you and Soobin. 

“It’s yours,” he says calmly as you stop in the largest room. You glance up at him, shaking your head. “No, no, you should have it. You need space for your computer and all, you should take the room. I’m fine with the other one,” you assure him but he doesn’t budge, trying to use the gentleman card and saying you should have the first pick as the female. Jokes on him, you immediately played around with his words and said you want to pick the slightly smaller one. He wanted to convince you to have it but before he could open his mouth again, you ran off. 

“What is it?” Soobin blinks as he sees Ryan leaning on the wall beside him, watching them with a smirk on his face. He shakes his head, glancing towards where you ran off before looking back at Soobin. “Nothing,” he answers, walking off with a knowing smile. Soobin frowns, sighing before following you. 

And just like that, after a little paperwork and preparation, you slowly start moving in, until the apartment is full of boxes, furniture, books, and laughter from all three of you. It doesn’t take long for you to ease into a comfortable rhythm, dividing chores and setting some ground rules to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings or fights. 

It all feels easy, honestly. You spend every morning in the kitchen together before leaving for school and then relax together again over dinner. It often ends up with all of you disappearing into your own rooms and studying or simply doing your own thing, but every once in a while, you stay longer, playing games on the TV with Soobin or watching a movie with Ryan. You always laugh loudly with them, and it makes you appreciate them a tiny bit more. 

“This is the last time I let you pick a game,” Soobin mumbles, staring at his computer screen, headphones on and his stream on his other monitor. It’s been a good two hours and half of him and Beomgyu playing roblox games and every time it was Gyu’s turn to pick what they were going to play, he came with some terrible, cringe one, full of thirteen year olds telling them both they were fucking their moms. It was interesting, for sure, to see what was going through the heads of kids these days. 

“Not my fault you don’t know how to have fun.” Soobin rolls his eyes, looking over at the chat. Half of them were sending a laughing emote, while the other half encouraged Soobin to play more, having fun while watching him suffer. “Let’s play something normal, please.” 

“Chat, this is him just saying he wants to play doors. Again,” Beomgyu scoffed. “Fine, we can play but if you die at the beginning again I swear I will drive to your apartment and choke you to death.” 

“Warning received,” Soobin snorts. “Let’s finally get through level 100, it’s embarrassing at this point.” Beomgyu couldn’t argue with that. It wasn’t the first roblox stream they did together and somehow, they always ended up playing at least a few rounds of the game but never made it past level 80. Either Soobin died too soon by the stupidest death possible, or he lost the run at level fifty. Either way, Beomgyu always ended up alive alone, with little to no chances. 

The game started and like always, it took them more than way too many tries to have them both alive by the time they reached level seventy, both hiding in their own closets as Soobin swore he saw the light flicker. Beomgyu was skeptical about believing him at first but as the closet shakes and a dark shadow runs in front of him, he sighs in relief. 

“Okay, let’s just stay alive for a bit longer,” Gyu comments, running to a door with number seventy one. It’s just a few doors later that Beomgyu dies on accident, leaving Soobin alone. There’s a loud curse that leaves his lips and it causes you to peek into his room. Soobin notices you in the corner of the stream recording and pushes his headphones off while keeping his eyes on the game as he gets through another door. “Sorry, am I being too loud?” 

“No, it’s fine,” you shake your head, smiling awkwardly as you come closer. It’s not the first time you’ve appeared in one of his videos but it still feels embarrassing. You wouldn’t say you’re exactly fit for the camera. “What are you playing?” You ask, answering yourself when your eyes land on the screen. “Hey, Beom,” you lean even closer so you reach Soobin’s microphone, giggling slightly. 

Soobin watches you, really hoping no one is about to kill him because he can’t focus on anything other than your figure beside him. He is in so much trouble. 

Your name leaves Beomgyu’s lips like a prayer, almost begging you to take over and push through the levels which has the chat laughing on the side. You look at your best friend to see if Gyu is exaggerating or if he really needs help. He only gives you a shy smile, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Alright, get up. You’re getting benched,” you laugh as he stands up from his chair and you sit down instead, greeting the chat warmly before focusing solely on the game. 

Soobin brings another chair to sit on, leaving it in the background as he watches, a part of him absolutely in love as you interact with his chat and push past the levels, the other part feeling angsty. You’re right here, making him feel like the luckiest boy on the planet but at the same time, you’re as far as you can be. 

His cheeks grow hotter as he notices a few of the watchers commenting how cute you two look together and some of the new fans asking if you’re his girlfriend. He doesn’t answer any of them but they sit in the back of his mind, thinking about them, about you. You don’t seem to pay them any attention but he wonders what you think of them, of the thought of you and him together. 

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you manage to pass level one hundred and Soobin snaps out of his thoughts as your loud cheer echoes through the room. You turn to face him immediately, excitement written all over your face and he gives you one of his proud smiles, wishing to do nothing else but wrap his arms around you and never let go. 

“Okay you can die now, I want to play something else,” Beomgyu says, making you turn again which causes Soobin’s face to fall for a brief second. “I should go. I can’t steal Soobin’s job entirely,” you laugh, the sound sending a wave through Soobin’s body. Yeah, he was fucked. 

You really do leave shortly after and Soobin ignores all the comments asking about you, playing for another hour before he ends the stream, sighing loudly as he leans back in his chair. 

“You should work on your expressions,” Beomgyu comments, the sound of a drawer opening and then closing again heard in the background of their call. “What are you talking about?” Soobin asks confusedly, frowning. “My chat has been asking me about you and her. Apparently it’s ‘super obvious’ with the way you look at her.” 

“I don’t look at her anyhow,” he argues and a scoff leaves Gyu’s lips. “Say that to the fans and editors because I’ve seen you, it is super obvious. I want to tell you you have nothing to worry about, I really do, but who knows what she’s going to think when people start shipping you together and pointing out you are head over heels for your best friend.” 

“They already ship you and me together. They do think I’m head over heels for my best friend,” Soobin rolls his eyes, trying to make a joke out of the situation. Because Beomgyu was right, and he wasn’t sure how he would explain it to you if you believed them. 

“Babe, I thought we were keeping it a secret,” Beomgyu gasps dramatically, making him laugh. “And also, we divorced the moment you decided to move out and live with your side chick and arch nemesis.” 

“Okay, stop calling them that.” 

“Why? Am I speaking lies? You literally told me and Yeonjun that you were going to die living with your biggest enemy and jerking off material in the same house.” 

“I didn’t! Stop calling her those weird names, god,” he groans, closing his eyes from embarrassment. Beomgyu laughs on the other side of the phone. “Then do something so I can finally call her your girlfriend because this isn’t even funny anymore.” 

“I’m hanging up,” Soobin proclaims, completely ignoring his best friend and the incredibly stupid topic of conversation. “Have a good night.” 

“Coward!” Beomgyu accuses him with a laugh before saying his goodbye and hanging up. Soobin sighs, staying seated in his place for a while longer before finally deciding to stand up and leave his room to get something to eat. 

He comes into the kitchen right when you’re in the middle of plating a pizza on three plates, making him raise his eyebrow as he comes closer. “I didn’t know you brought pizza.” You look up at him and smile as you hand him his portion. “Not me. Ryan did. His date bought it apparently,” you wiggle your eyebrow teasingly. Soobin blinks quickly to hide the surprise on his face, holding onto the plate with his two pieces. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.” 

“It’s a secret, act like you don’t know or else he’s going to kill me. He said it’s top secret information but who would I be to keep anything from my favorite best friend?” You lean closer to him, whispering with a soft giggle. You pull back and smirk, “don’t say that to anyone either, though. I can’t have them know you are my number one.” 

Soobin feels like he stops working for a second. Your perfume reaches his nose, already making him weak in the knees. And as if that wasn’t enough you keep saying things that mess with his head. Things that definitely aren’t good for his mental health. He isn’t a psychiatrist but he is sure that if he attended therapy the first thing they’d tell him would be to stop thinking about you like you’re his soulmate and distance himself. 

“Also, Ryan said he’s going to be out tomorrow night so we’ll have dinner without him.” Soobin hesitates, taking a bite of his food as he watches you. “Do you want to go out then?” He asks, a little more hopeful than he should be. “We can get something to eat and do something fun.” 

“That sounds great,” you beam immediately, grinning widely as you pick up the two plates from the counter. “Late night drive around with some maccies is what I’ve been craving.” 

“Okay, then we have a plan,” he smiles and you walk off to Ryan’s room, letting him know you’re going to watch a movie together and that if he needs anything, he can just text you. 

He doesn’t. Because all he can think about for the rest of the night is that Ryan is seeing someone who isn’t you. The day couldn’t get better. 

“Come here,” you shake your head, making your best friend look up. Soobin blinks a few times but listens, closing the distance between you. You undo his tie, causing his eyes to widen. You don’t say anything, simply redoing it to make it look better. It’s been his thing, wearing button-ups with a tie every day and making it look casual but somehow, he still managed to mess up. It was kind of cute, honestly. “There,” you smile, taking a step back to take a proper look. 

Soobin’s surprised face makes you chuckle. “Let’s take a picture, you look nice today,” you encourage, pushing him towards a body sized mirror in the hallway. He has to blink a few times before he takes out his phone but still doesn’t say anything, trying to calm himself down. This isn’t a date, he has to remind himself every time you look up at him with those sparkly eyes and make his heart race just a bit faster. 

He wraps his arm around your waist and you lean closer to him, smiling into the mirror as he takes a picture of the two of you. You ask him to send it to you immediately after it’s done and he just nods, mumbling a quiet “will do,” before grabbing his car keys and stepping into his shoes. 

You grab a jacket from the hanger, following Soobin out of the door as you rant about being hungry and how it took him forever to end his stream and dress up. He doesn’t argue with you because he knows you’re right. It’s already way past 10pm. He knows he is lucky he offered to buy otherwise you might actually choke him. 

You sit in the passenger seat, scrolling through your playlist as you try to find something fitting the vibe while Soobin drives off, taking you to the closest McDonalds like you asked the day before. “Oh. My. God. This is it!” You exclaim and Soobin glances at you, raising an eyebrow curiously. When Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros starts playing on his car’s speaker and you show him the playlist you’ve made with him when you were in high school, his eyes soften. 

“That was definitely one of my most played songs a few years back,” he mumbles, taking a turn to the right. “And it was your fault because you loved borrowing my phone for music.” You giggle, placing the phone down and looking out the window. The sun has long gotten down, now replaced with a night sky full of stars. It was quiet, the only sound interrupting your thoughts the song you put on and occasional cars in the other line. 

Soobin only stops the car once he gets to the drive through, lowering the music so it’s barely audible. You don’t even get a chance to speak up before he is already ordering, making sure to get everything you could possibly want. You just watch him, admiring him from your place. It’s easy with him, comfortable, and every time you see him act so boyfriendable, you wonder why he doesn’t have a girl already. You know this is exactly what girls search for in guys, you aren’t an exception. After Jisoo pointed it out one time, you realized you always looked for a piece of your best friend in the guys you dated. 

“Anything else?” He turns to you, the softest smile on his face and you just shake your head, your lips curling into the same stupid grin. “Okay, that’ll be all then,” he says happily, slowly driving the car forward to pick up the drinks. He puts a coke in the middle of the two of you before handing you a milkshake, placing his own beside the coke. 

The happiness is obvious on your face as you get your hands on the food and Soobin drives off, trying to think of a spot to park the car so he could eat as well. “God, this is exactly what I meant when I said I want to have late night car dates with you back when we were little with no idea how cars work,” you take a bite, leaning into your seat. “This is so good.” That’s when an idea flickers in his head, turning the car around as soon as he can. “Remember when we used to hang out at the playground and you’d dream about staying there forever?” 

“Oh my god! And then you’d tell me that’s not possible because I’d catch a cold and die alone because you wouldn’t stay there forever with me! I was so mad at you and cried to Jisoo about not wanting to die alone!” You laugh at the memory. 

“I just wanted to make you go home where you’d be safe,” he proclaims, his eyes focused on the road. “But if it wouldn’t work and you’d want to stay there, I would have stayed with you forever,” he says casually, so simply that you don’t think anything of it because in reality, it’s just a few words. But he is anything but calm as he secretly glances at you in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch something in your expression. You giggle again, sharing the briefest smile with him before taking a sip of the coke. 

He should feel disappointed or sad that his words do nothing to you. He should. If it was him, and you told him you would stay with him forever, he might as well drop to one knee and propose to you immediately. But you aren’t him. And even though he knows you don’t feel the same attraction to him like he does, he can’t seem to feel the sadness or anger. All he feels is happiness. Happiness that despite all that, he can still have you like this, beside him, laughing as you talk about childhood memories, looking equally as pleased as he is. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him parking near the playground you were so obsessed with when you were younger. “It still stands,” you whisper, the sound so quiet you think he doesn’t even catch it. “They’ve made some changes throughout the years but yeah, still stands.” You turn to face him, your expression a mixture of happiness, gratefulness, but also vulnerability because of all the memories the playground holds. His eyes soften, if that was even possible anymore. “Let’s go?” 

You settle on the top of the slide, your legs tangled together as you try to fit into the small space for kids. All the food is placed between you, and the only sounds filling Soobin’s ears are your giggles as you play with your food and tease him endlessly. He takes out his phone and you grin, posing with your milkshake. He laughs as well, putting the phone down beside him as he takes a handful of fries. 

A comfortable silence settles over you, the street lamp casting a soft light over his face. He leans back, watching the sky as if he wanted to count every star possible. 

“Do you ever wonder how we work out?” His eyes flicker back to you, his expression slightly confused. “What do you mean?” 

“Just that…I know people used to think we were a weird duo. Remember when Yeonjun saw us hanging out for the first time and asked you if I didn’t black mail you into dealing with me?” You laugh quietly at the memory, taking another sip of your milkshake. “But then again, I guess you do keep similar types of people around you.” 

“Did you just accidentally compare yourself to Beomgyu?” 

You gasp, trying to sound offended. It doesn’t last long because you end up laughing again. It’s always easy to laugh with him. “I mean, I guess. I don’t know what I’m talking about, honestly. It’s probably the fact we’ve been friends for so long and I already know all your deepest darkest secrets so I can’t ask about that.” 

“You mean like the fact you practically asked Taehyun to marry you the first time I introduced you?” He teases and your eyes widen as you slap his hand. “Come on! Don’t go revealing my secrets like it’s nothing! Plus, we were eleven and unlike your other friends, he was the only one treating me like a lady instead of your little punching bag!” You complain. 

“Definitely not my fault Yeonjun and Beomgyu were immature little shits,” he laughs. “Yeah, well, they still are,” you huff even though you know it’s far from that. Yeonjun has turned into a gentleman who helps old people carry things when he sees them struggling without a second of hesitation, and Beomgyu has been nothing but respectful to every woman he’s met since you slapped him for making an inappropriate joke back when you were fourteen. 

Soobin shrugs, unable to hide the smile on his face, “It’s good you’re always there to put them back in their place then.” You roll your eyes playfully, your eyes narrowing in mischief that doesn’t pass by unnoticed by your best friend. But before he can ask what you’re thinking about, you quickly untangle your legs and sit at the top of the slide, glancing at him over your shoulder. “First one on the swing wins.” 

The night is filled with laughter and stupid jokes as you move around the playground. You get to the swing first, partly because you gave yourself an advantage, but mostly because he has no desire to win. He does get down as well though, and ends up lazily swinging you back and forth while you talk about how school is going and he tells you about today’s stream. It’s intimate, and anyone walking near would think you’re on a date, but the thought doesn’t even cross your mind for a brief second. 

Soobin can’t say the same thing. Because with every brush of his hand on yours, every joke you crack, every memory, and every smile he gets from you, the more he has to remind himself that this is just a casually friendly hangout and he has no right to think of you in the way he does. If he allows himself to believe anything else it won’t go nicely for him. Because no matter how much he wishes to have you more than he already does, he knows it’s not possible. 

“I think we work out because you’ve always just been you around me without being worried about what I’d think and I’ve always admired you, knowing I’d do anything for you just to keep you in my life.” 

The words come out before Soobin can think them through. It’s raw, so vulnerable that he can’t bear looking you in the eyes afterwards, turning around and walking back to the slide to grab all the trash you left there. You blink a few times, smiling like a little kid as you watch him comfortably reach for everything when the memory of little Soobin flashes into your mind and you remember how much he struggled to reach it before. You’ve both surely grown a lot. 

“We should get back, it’s late,” he mumbles, still avoiding looking you in the eyes. You don’t point it out even though you’re confused on why that is and follow him to his car, quickly dozing off as he drives off and Everyone Adores You (at least I do) by Matt Maltese from your high school playlist plays in the car. 

You’re not sure how you got to bed last night but you don’t exactly care either. All you care about is that your makeup is wiped off and you can get ready without cursing at yourself for sleeping without doing your night routine. 

You join Ryan in the kitchen with a warm greeting and he gives you an awkward smile, immediately making you narrow your eyes as you question what happened. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a morning person but that never stopped him from smiling for real when he saw you. He sighs, a sound so heavy and tired you know whatever he’s about to tell you isn’t going to be good. 

You sit on the couch and talk about his date from last night, the English echoing through the apartment. It was always easier for the two of you to talk in English as you could express yourself better and get the emotions out right, especially if it was just the two of you and you didn’t need to worry about leaving anyone out of the conversation by them not being able to understand you. Normally, if you were having a conversation in English and Soobin joined you, you’d try to switch to Korean as quickly as possible, but this time it just didn’t feel right. So you let Ryan talk without pointing out the fact Soobin stood on the side, frowning as he tried to make sense of what he was saying. 

“Who has a boyfriend?” He asks confusedly and when the Korean reaches Ryan’s ears, he switches as well. “It’s just–” he sighs again. “My date from last night. I found out good twenty minutes into the date because guess what, he was the fucking cook in the restaurant and I was just there to make him jealous.” 

You feel sorry for him. This was the first time since he moved to the country that he was brave enough to go on a date with someone and this is how it turned out. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, rubbing soft circles on the back of his neck instinctively. You don’t even realize you’re doing so but Soobin does, and as soon as he sees you like this with Ryan, something in him boils. No matter how many times he reminds himself he has no right to feel jealous, the emotion creeps up his spine before he can stop it. 

“You can’t blame yourself for how things turned out. You couldn’t have known. Next time will be better. I can help you find–” 

“I’m done with dating. Never was for me anyway,” he interrupts you, pulling back so you let him go and he can stand up. “If it was, I wouldn’t be this way.” His last words hit the hardest but before you can call after him and tell him he’s wrong, he locks himself in his room, leaving you frozen on the couch, feeling as bad for him as you can. 

“I thought girls love musicians. He has a lot of fans, doesn’t he? Surely there is someone who would love him in a way he deserves,” Soobin comments as he prepares his breakfast, scanning your face for any signs that you might be looking to love him in that way. “It’s complicated,” you mumble as you join him, glancing at Ryan’s bedroom door. “I just wish he wouldn’t think so badly of himself.” 

Ryan leaves the apartment as soon as he steps out of his room again to get to his morning lessons on time while you and Soobin watch him from the kitchen. You wish him good luck before he can leave and he smiles slightly but doesn’t say anything else, wanting to be left alone as soon as possible. You don’t blame him, honestly. 

“Should we go as well?” Soobin asks, breaking the silence that’s taken over the apartment. “Yeah, I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick,” you nod, doing as you said before leaving with Soobin by your side. 

You notice a few girls chatting and giggling while watching you as soon as you step on campus but you don’t pay it much attention, convincing yourself you’re imagining it. It’s not until your third lesson that you share with Jisoo that you find out the looks weren’t just in your head. 

“How could you not tell me?” She questions, offended, as she plops her bag onto the chair beside you. You blink confusedly, turning your head to face her. “Tell you what exactly?” You ask confusedly, watching her sit down. “That you’re dating?” She scans your face for an answer before her eyes widen. “Oh my god, you’re not dating!” She gasps, quickly searching for something on her phone. “I thought that you finally got together! God, I got totally fooled!” 

She hands you her phone and your eyes land on Soobin’s new post. He posted last night, shortly after you made it back home. The first picture is of you and him in the hallway, the picture you made him take before going out. You swipe to look at more, your eyes scanning the photo of the food you had, all laid out on the top of the slide, your figure on the side. The next one is the one with a milkshake. It makes you smile. The last one is of the night sky, all pictures put together under one description: Healing night. 

You bite back your smile, your ears catching red as you open the comments. There are girls calling you pretty, some people asking if this is a hard launch, a few asking where the pictures are from, but a heavy amount of the comments are just people saying how good you look together. 

Your eyes widen and you give Jisoo her phone back, trying to figure out what the right words are. “You’re blushing,” she comments before you get the chance to tell her you’re not dating your best friend. “I’m not,” you argue and she eyes you up and down. “Hm,” she hums as if she just understood your whole. “Have you ever thought about Soobin in a romantic sense?” 

“What? No. He’s my best friend,” you shake your head to refuse but for some reason, the thought flickers in your head. Being with him, going on dates similar to last night, having a partner that knows you like no one else, someone you trust with your life. It’d be nice to have someone who’s already so close to you become something even more. But it’s Soobin you’re thinking about, the same boy who watched you on every step of your childhood since you moved, the same boy who saw all your embarrassing moments and showed you that opposite gender friendships were possible. 

It’s Soobin, the same boy who could never think what you’re thinking about right now, so why does your heart race a bit faster at the image of it? 

“So? That’s not a disease, love,” she reminds you and a part of you questions if she just wants to hear you say you’re in love with your best friends. Unfortunately for her, the answer will be no. You’re not in love with him, even though you’re now stuck with the image of dating him in your head. “I never said it was. I simply never thought about him in that sense.” 

“And are you now?” 

“What?” 

“Are you now thinking about him in that sense?” 

You blink, opening your mouth to protest. No sound comes out and you end up closing it again, which leaves her with a knowing smirk. You scoff, opening your laptop instead as you try to focus on anything else. 

Jisoo doesn’t bring it up anymore, obviously pleased with your answer, or the lack thereof, but that doesn’t mean it just disappears like you wish it would. Throughout the rest of the day, there are a few more girls who come up to you just to ask if you’re dating Soobin and each time, you tell them the same thing. “He’s just my friend, we went out because we live together and no one wanted to cook.” 

Every time you say so, they give you a smirk or giggle in exchange before running off again and you know they don’t believe you. For all know there might be a rumor going around the school already that Soobin, the streamer half of this University watches in their free time, is dating you. 

“No, I’m not dating Choi Soobin, the pictures you’ve seen weren’t from our date,” you sigh automatically when you hear someone clear their throat behind you to get your attention. Your eyes widen when you see Ryan, relief brushing over you. “God, you wouldn’t believe the day that I had.” 

“I’ve heard,” he nods, walking beside you. “I talked to Jisoo earlier, she finds it all amusing.” 

“Of course she does,” you scoff. “She’s been trying to get me to admit my feelings or something.” You tell him about your conversation, leaving out the fact that ever since you found out about it, you’ve been unable to focus on anything other than your best friend. And when you thought about it, you couldn’t even blame them for believing you were together with him. 

“Why don’t you confront him about it?” You frown slightly, fixing your bag strap as it slides off your shoulder. “About what? It’s not like it’s his fault we look like a couple in those pictures.” Ryan shrugs. “Well, that’s true but you could ask him about it, find out what he thinks and all.” 

“No, he’s going to think I’m weird for paying attention to things like that,” you whine, making him roll his eyes at you. “I know you, and I know you’re thinking about him so take a step forward and ask him if he’s thinking about it as well otherwise it’s never going to happen. He’s too big of a coward to say anything.” 

“You don’t make any sense,” you mumble, taking out your keys and unlocking the door when you get to the apartment building. “You say that because apparently I’m the only one with eyes. Do you genuinely not see the way he looks at you?” 

You stop midstep, hitting Ryan with your bag on accident as you turn to face him, blinking confusedly. “What?” He sighs, pushing the door open and taking a step inside when you don’t move. “Just focus on his eyes at dinner,” he says, walking off before you can ask anything else. 

He knows it’s not his place to say anything but honestly, he’s had enough of Soobin’s longing glances you somehow never caught. And if there was the chance you would now look at him the same and he’d have to live watching the two of you pine after each other, he’d much rather just tell you about Soobin’s feelings instead of waiting for him to confess. 

Sitting on your bed with a study sheet opened on your laptop is doing nothing to help you memorize the material and after a few minutes, you end up closing it and giving up. It’s unbelievable how much of an influence just one day can have on your whole thinking. You keep replaying the comments in your head along with Jisoo’s and Ryan’s words. 

And then, before you can stop it, you think about how it’d be like if you did date Soobin. Your gaming leveled up with cuddles, kisses and confessions added to the mornings spent together, dates that leave people feeling jealous because of how great he is to you, the sleepless nights full of need replaced with his comfort, his fingers making you finish faster than your own– 

You quickly shake your head to snap back, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. You were never supposed to think of him that way. 

Making your way out of the room again and almost colliding with Soobin as he tries to go to the bathroom is not ideal since you can’t even look him in the eyes but you hope he doesn’t notice. You’re not ready to explain that you’re avoiding him now because, ever since people started thinking you were dating, you haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about him.

You apologize before running into the kitchen, your eyes screaming for help as soon as Ryan turns to you. He simply laughs and shakes his head, paying attention to the rice he is cooking again. “What? You’ve seen a ghost?” 

“This is all your fault!” You complain. “You messed with my head. You and Jisoo both did.” 

“Oh no, is this the part where you realize he is also a man and has a dick he can use?” Your cheeks turn red but thankfully you can stop before your imagination goes wild. “Shut up! He literally lives here!” You whisper yell at him, checking if he’s still in the bathroom and can’t hear you. “You didn’t deny it,” he points out immediately, turning off the heat. 

“I hate you.” 

“You love me,” he corrects with a smirk, making you roll your eyes. “I’m never speaking to him again and it’s your fault, just so you know.” 

“Who aren’t you talking to?” Soobin’s voice makes you close your eyes in regret. “No one, doesn’t matter,” you brush it off, hoping he’ll leave it at that. To your luck, he walks closer to you instead and eyes you up and down. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice hitting you. His eyes look broken as well, something deeper behind them. This all because of you? You swallow, smiling at him as you nod, assuring him it’s all good. 

“The dinner–” you start but Ryan interrupts you by clearing his throat, giving you one stern look. “Is going to take a bit longer and Ryan said he’ll take care of it, so can we talk?” You ask even though every part of your body tells you to do the exact opposite and run away as far as you can from this conversation. Preferably pretend you never got yourself into this situation. 

“Of course,” he nods, glancing at Ryan quickly as if to ask if anything was going on. He just gives him a reassuring smile and encourages for the two of you to leave. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? What’s going on?” 

“Let’s sit down,” you say, shaking your head and following him to his bedroom. You make yourself comfortable on his bed while he sits down on his gaming chair, trying to read through you and see what you’re thinking. He stays silent, giving you all the time you need and simply watching you. That’s when you notice it, the look in his eyes Ryan mentioned. There’s something—something you can’t quite name, that makes you feel at home. You weren’t sure what love looked like but you could imagine it being pretty damn close to what you see in his eyes. 

“The photos from last night are really pretty, I’m still waiting for you to send them over,” you start, carefully observing him. “Right, sorry, I completely forgot,” he apologizes, taking out his phone without any hesitation. Your own rings in your pocket and you assume it’s the pictures. “Thank you,” you mumble, playing with your fingers in your lap awkwardly. “No problem.” 

“We should…do it again. I had fun. It reminded me of a lot of memories,” you keep your eyes down but you can still feel his gaze on you as he tries to read you. You’re sure he sees through you but you can’t bring yourself to actually ask what’s on your mind. “I’ve been listening to the playlist as well, it needs an update.” 

He hums, his eyes never leaving yours. “The Shade, Rex Orange County.” 

“What?” 

“You should add that to our playlist,” he explains. 

“What is it about?” 

“Listen and see,” he smiles warmly and you roll your eyes in disbelief. The room gets quiet again and you bite the inside of your cheek so you won’t say something stupid. He shifts in his place, sighing. “If you tell me what’s bothering you it’ll be a lot easier for me to help.” 

You hesitate before sighing as well. “Do you ever read comments under your posts?” You ask, watching his eyes widen. Yeah, he definitely knows what you’re talking about. “Sometimes, I guess,” he says, trying to sound calm. You hum. “The pictures from yesterday…” you trail off, rethinking your words. “A lot of people asked if we are together, and that we’d look good as a couple. Some people asked me about it today as well,” you admit. 

“The fans get like that,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from you. “They keep trying to find anything about my personal life they can. You don’t need to pay much attention to it. After all, they ship me and Beomgyu as well,” he laughs awkwardly and you catch the slight discomfort in his voice. “It’s just what comes with the job.” 

You listen to him, keeping quiet and taking in his words. Maybe he was right. It was just how fans get, what happens when you decide to put yourself out there for the world to judge, but if what you caught in his eyes was anywhere close to what you thought, you couldn’t just drop it. 

“So you never thought about…us? Together?” You ask quietly, your heart skipping a beat when his eyes lock with yours again and you see the flicker of emotion behind them again. It definitely wasn’t just in your head. Something like an attraction was hiding in his eyes and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier. 

Soobin doesn’t answer right away. You can see his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers tighten slightly around the hem of his sleeve like he’s bracing himself. “I did,” he admits and for a second you feel like your heart stops beating. “But that’s just stupid, right? It’s nothing, doesn’t mean anything. The fans got into my head and I’m talking nonsense, forget it,” he blurts out so quickly you almost don’t understand anything. 

“Soobin, calm down.” He looks at you, vulnerable, and you fight the urge to get up and swallow him in a breath-taking hug. “I’m not saying it’s…wrong, or stupid.” 

“I’m sorry. Forget about it, really. I’m so, so, so sorry.” A part of you breaks when you see him like this, looking like he convinced himself thinking about you in that sense was wrong, that he wasn’t allowed to. It hurts you to see someone so important to you blame himself for something he doesn’t need to because of you. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you assure him, slowly getting up from his bed and walking over to him. You kneel in front of him and hold his hands in yours so he keeps his eyes on you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did think about me that way,” you smile slightly, looking up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I’d like that.” 

His hands squeeze yours without even realizing, his breath shaking as he comprehends your words. He doesn’t say anything, barely even blinks, out of fear that if he moves even just slightly, you’ll disappear and he realizes it’s all just a dream. 

But you stay, holding his hands as if it’s the most normal thing in the world and there’s nothing to worry about. He exhales quietly, finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel. The warmth of your hands, your soft voice as you assure him you’re there and real, and the scent of you that he is convinced he can never get enough of. 

“In that case, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.” 

Dinner was quiet that night. Ryan tried to ask you how it went and if you’re with him now, but you just brushed him off, stealing glances and smiles from Soobin the whole evening. It was a bit awkward and new, but you didn’t mind. Just knowing you weren’t the only one thinking about it was enough for now. 

You decided to watch a movie with Ryan when you were done eating and even though your attention was now on the movie options, you noticed Soobin’s glare before he disappeared back into his room without another word. It made you blink a few times, almost as if to see you weren’t imagining it. When you averted your eyes from the now closed door, Ryan didn’t forget to mention you were blushing. 

And so, you spent the whole night thinking about what was going to happen now. Would anything really change? Honestly, you wanted it to. For some reason, after hearing your best friend has been in love with you for almost as long as you’ve known him, had a bigger impact on you than you thought it would. And after dreaming of holding his hand and kissing him the whole night, you wanted nothing more than to do so in the morning. 

Soobin and Ryan are already in the kitchen when you wake up and make your way over, sharing a warm smile with them and a quiet “good morning.” Ryan answers you first, greeting you before running off to the bathroom, saying something about being late. Bullshit. Still, you let him do whatever he wants and walk closer to Soobin, your smile more cautious now as you try to see where the line lies. 

Soobin looks at you the same, wary but happy. He leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes flickering to where Ryan just disappeared before landing back on you. You raise your eyebrow, stopping in front of him. You hold his hands carefully, searching for any sight of discomfort before you bring his hands to your waist, leaving them there. The emotion behind his eyes switches immediately, now way more calm and soft. “Good morning,” he greets you, squeezing your waist lightly to make sure it’s real. 

“Slept well?” You ask, gently placing your hands on his biceps. “Yeah,” he nods, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You smile, stroking his arm in a reassuring motion. “What were you planning on getting for breakfast? I’m starving.” He quickly blinks before letting his hands fall back to his side when you switch conversation, making you shake your head. You don’t push him though, watching him as he moves around the kitchen to prepare one more toast for you. 

You grab the plate from him with a “thank you,” when he’s done and jump up onto the counter, encouraging him to come closer to you. He listens, standing between your thighs. You put the plate beside you and cup his face, your breath shaking as your eyes flicker from his to his lips. 

“You can touch me, Soob. It’s okay.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he holds your waist again, careful, like he’s afraid to break you. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You won’t,” you assure him gently. “I’ve known you for so long there’s no way you could make me uncomfortable with some physical touch. Hug me, hold me,” you lean closer to him, lips brushing over his ear, “kiss me, ask me on dates, do whatever you want, baby.” 

Soobin shivers under your touch, your words messing with his head more than they should. His breath hitches and his grip on your waist tightens to steady himself. The nickname rings in his ears and his neck turns pink, slowly raising his head to look at you. “Can you say it again?” 

Your smile widens and you brush your thumb across his cheek. “Baby?” You tease him, watching his reactions. “Oh, god, who would have guessed you’d get this cute for me?” 

He blushes, trying not to think much about your words. It was embarrassing. “You need to give me time to adjust. I’ve never…you know I haven’t been with anyone before.” Your eyes widen in realization, “because you were in love with me?” 

He nods hesitantly. “I am. Present tense.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, punching him with your fist gently (it’s more like a caress) as your head drops to his shoulder as well, hiding your face from him. “You can’t do this, that’s not fair,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get yourself to stop blushing. 

Soobin turns his head slightly to look at you, his breathing uneven as he watches you from so up close. It’s a sight he thought he could only dream about. His hand moves from your waist to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. It’s partly to calm you down even though he thinks it’s not going to work, but mostly for himself. He needs to feel you under his hand, know that you’re real and this is now his reality. Because, god, does it feel like a dream. 

You raise your head again, gazing into his eyes. You both hesitate and his hand stops mid movement as he looks at you. He gives you a small nod and you lean closer, pressing your lips against his gently. He kisses you back, even though you can feel how much he’s thinking it all through. You smile into the kiss and just that simple motion is enough to calm him down and allow himself to enjoy it, his lips soft against yours. 

When he pulls back, he looks like you’ve just handed him the stars he thought he could never reach. 

You leave the apartment first, rushing to get to your first lesson with the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind, the feeling of his lips against yours vivid. There’s a smile on your face when you get to class and it takes all your strength to make yourself focus on the new material instead of your best friend. 

Jisoo notices the change as soon as she sees you. Obviously. She smirks as her eyes scan you, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “You look overly happy,” she says and your grin widens. “I am,” you nod. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I may or may not have kissed someone this morning,” you admit and her eyes widen immediately. “Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer so others won’t hear your conversation. “It’s Soobin, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s him.” You laugh, nodding, and she squeezes your hand in excitement. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’ve been secretly cheering you two on ever since I saw how he looked at you when we were little.” 

Your eyes widen. “Has everyone always seen it except for me?!” You whisper yell, questioning how you could be so blind for all those years. “Ryan pointed it out as well.” 

“And that’s exactly why I always loved Ryan,” Jisoo giggles. “And? What else? I need to hear everything!” You chuckle, briefly looking around before turning back to her again and telling her about everything. From the way your mind went crazy after she asked you if you’ve ever thought about him in a romantic sense to this point, repeating how cute he is over and over again. 

That’s when you realize the saying “speak of the devil and he shall appear” is very true. Because at the same time, your phone starts ringing, lighting up with Soobin’s contact info and making the flutter in your stomach return. Your eyes soften immediately and you give Jisoo one apologetic look before picking up. 

“Yes?” You ask softly, already smiling. 

“Hi,” his voice is soft even through the phone. 

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, all good. You’re free for an hour at 12, right?” You blink and nod, for a second forgetting he can’t see you. “I do, I was planning on having lunch then.” 

There’s a short pause but you don’t rush him, calmly waiting for his answer while listening to the faint rustle of movement on his end. 

“Would it be weird if I asked to join you? Wait, no, I mean,” the slight panic in his voice makes you chuckle. He’s cute. “Can I take you out for lunch? Is what I wanted to ask,” he sighs, the relief obvious. 

You bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling like an idiot, briefly glancing at Jisoo. She already has one of her warm smiles on, cheering you on from the side. “Of course you can,” you nod. “That would be great, actually.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he says, voice softening, calm. “What about the restaurant near the library? Yeonjun said that one is pretty good, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Let’s go there,” you agree. There’s another pause, this one comfortable. “Okay,” he repeats, a bit awkward. “I’ll meet you there then?” 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll see you there.” 

“You’re so sickening, it’s cute,” Jisoo shakes her head with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her but don’t argue. “I hope it works out for you, genuinely. Soobin is nice and we both know he’d go out of his way to take care of you.” You smile sheepishly, your cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, but I’m still worried to fuck it up,” you admit. “We are best friends, we’ve always been.” 

“And that’s not going to change,” she assures you. “He’ll always be your best friend first, but if you’ll let him, I’m sure he’ll gladly take on the job of your boyfriend as well. You’re not going to ruin anything.” 

You nod, taking in her words. She’s right, you know she is. Deep down you know that no matter what, there was nothing that could make you stop being friends with him, but you were scared nonetheless. You never hesitated when it came to relationships, believing that you were either meant to be or not and there was nothing you could do about it, but with Soobin, you didn’t want to risk the second option. 

Jisoo seems to see right through you because she spends most of your lesson talking to you about how amazing Soobin is (as if you didn’t already know that) and how you were going to be even more inseparable as a couple, wishing you all the luck in the world. It seizes your worries, which you’re thankful to her for. 

The restaurant is quiet to your surprise. You expected it to be messy during lunch hour but even though the place is full, it’s calm and cozy. Your eyes fall on your best friend as soon as you step inside, a smile creeping up your lips as you walk to the table for two. “Hi,” you greet him, taking a seat across from him. He smiles back at you, making your heart race faster. “Hey.” 

“Did you already order something?” You ask, immediately regretting how awkward you sound. Was this how it was going to be with him from now on? “No. Waited for you,” he says, pretending to scan the menu. He doesn’t do too well because you catch his eyes on you, stealing glances as if you were still something he could only dream of. 

“What is it?” You wonder, a smile spreading across your face. You feel like a fresh teen experiencing her first summer romance. Maybe that was what you and Soobin were supposed to be a long time ago—teenagers in love who no one believed would last but they pulled through anyway. You could imagine it. Sharing your first kiss with him, spending all those Christmases together as something more than just friends, going on a bunch of dates and thinking you could never be more in love. 

“You’re pretty,” he says casually, watching as your cheeks turn pink under his words. “You don’t have to say things like that,” you shake your head even though you wish he would tell you a lot more. “I want to. I wanted to tell you so many times over the years but always held myself back. And now that I have the opportunity…I want to tell you as many times as I can.” 

Yeah, Choi Soobin knew how to mess with your heart. 

You feel hotter, knowing your ears must be red now as well. “You…” you swallow the rest of your sentence when your eyes lock with his, every word you’ve ever learnt disappearing from your brain. You were in trouble. You avert your eyes, ignoring the tingly feeling in your stomach and focusing on the menu on the table. 

He doesn’t say anything else, his own heart playing games with him as silence settles over the two of you. He isn’t as secretive with his glances now but still tries to keep them low, not wanting to seem like a creep but unable to help himself. He watches you order, talk about an assignment for one of your classes and a new movie that just came out. He doesn’t hesitate asking you if you want to watch it with him tonight, and you don’t waver with your answer either, saying you’d love to do that. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize suddenly, making him raise his eyebrow in confusion as he sips on his coke. “What for?” 

“Not seeing you sooner.” It hits like a dagger but he still shakes his head, setting the glass down. “That’s not something you can control.” You gaze down onto the table, rethinking your words. “I just… You’ve always been so good to me,” your eyes meet his and his heart shatters when he sees the regret and shame behind them. It wasn’t often that he’d see you be this vulnerable. Of course, there were moments in your life that were worse, and he was there for all of them, but knowing he was the reason for your feelings broke him more than rejection ever could. 

“And I will continue being good to you,” he assures you before you can continue. “I can’t imagine the feeling of… why did you keep liking me? You’ve seen my worst, have been the target of my jokes and I’ve never even looked your way like that, it–” 

“You’re smart, so incredibly smart you learned a new language when you were ten just because you wanted your dad to have the job he always wanted, despite the fact you missed your friends and hometown. You care about people and make them feel welcome around you, always doing your best to be nice to everyone unless they’ve done something. You’re confident, funny, talented, and absolutely beautiful,” he says without any hesitation, his words pure, full of sincerity, and it feels like he heals a part of you you didn’t know was broken. “But most importantly, you bring out the best of me. You make me come out of my shell, you help me when I’m lost, and you never for a second doubt me. I don’t think there’s a reason why I wouldn’t have fallen for you.” 

Your grip tightens around your own glass of soda, his words ringing in your ears over and over again. You couldn’t recall a single time any of your exes would have said anything just remotely close to what he just did. He’s been there all along, so perfect and in love with you, and still, you managed to look through him. 

His hand reaches for yours from across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze so you look up at him. When you do, there’s a smile on his face, the same one you’ve only seen him give you over the years—a smile meant just for you. 

It’s the same smile that makes you realize the past isn’t what’s important right now. It’s the fact you’re here now, on a date with your best friend, finally seeing him. And you plan on making the most out of it. 

Once you both finish eating, it’s only a matter of time before you leave. Soobin offers to pay for your meal and you let him, lacing your fingers with his as you step outside. You don’t need to say more, falling into a soft rhythm as you walk through campus hand in hand. It feels nice. And every little smile exchange makes you look forward to how this is going to continue. 

“Come closer,” you urge, eyeing Soobin up and down as he sits down a full seat over on the couch. He turns his head to face you, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Still, he listens, moving to sit right beside you, his arm draping around your shoulders when you lean to rest on his side. “What did I tell you? You don’t have to hold back,” you tilt your head slightly to look at him and he nods. “It’ll be better after a few days.” 

It’s a quiet promise that makes you smile. You turn your attention back to the Tv as the first episode of jujutsu kaisen starts playing. After getting back home, you’ve all eaten dinner together and then Ryan disappeared off to his room with his nose basically pressed to his phone. You wanted to question him about it but before you could, Soobin’s hand gently rested around your waist and he asked if you wanted to watch the movie you mentioned earlier. You had no choice but to leave Ryan’s mysteries for another day. 

Once the movie was over and half of the snacks you brought for it were eaten, Soobin begged you to rewatch jujutsu kaisen with him, claiming that it was life changing. You realized at that moment, you can’t say no to him. 

So now, you were stuck by his side, watching a show about a teenager eating fingers instead of going to school. 

“Have you ever thought about the fact you and Beomgyu are like Itadori and Megumi?” You wonder, snacking on a bag of chips while watching the two interact. Soobin raises an eyebrow. “Who am I supposed to be in this incredibly wrong scenario?” He sounds almost offended and you have to sit up because of how oblivious he is. Funny, isn’t it? 

“Megumi, obviously.” 

He scoffs, glancing at the screen. “Megumi is the most boring character there is.” Your eyes widen. Now it’s you who is offended. “He’s my favorite,” there’s a small pout on your lips that makes Soobin close his mouth immediately, slowly regretting ever saying anything. “He reminds me of you.” 

He opens his mouth before shutting it again, realizing there isn’t much to save the situation. Megumi really wasn’t his favorite, but what was he supposed to do when you said you liked him because he reminded you of him? “I’d rather you be Itadori then,” he mumbles. 

Your eyes light up again, a winning smirk spread across your face. You move to lay on him again so you can continue watching, this time resting your head in his lap and occupying the rest of the couch with your legs. He blinks a few times, just watching you for a second before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, carefully caressing your head and playing with your hair, slowly shifting his attention to the show playing. 

He’s not sure when you manage to fall asleep but when he looks at you to ask about what you think of the fight scene happening, he sees your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, your breathing steady. He smiles, lowering the volume of the Tv before grabbing his phone and sending a quick text to Ryan, asking him to bring a blanket over since he can’t stand up right now. 

“She fell asleep?” Ryan wonders as he comes out of his room, phone in one hand, the other carrying the blanket. Soobin turns his head to face him, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks, I would have gotten it myself but I don’t want to wake her up.”

 “All good,” he shakes his head, lingering a little longer than probably necessary, eyeing the two of you on the couch, simply just happy that this is how you get to spend your evenings from now on. Soobin notices, raising his eyebrow confusedly. “Do you have a problem with anything?” His words come out harsher than expected, making Ryan’s eyes widen. 

“Why would I have a problem with anything?” 

“Don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous,” I would be. He doesn’t finish the sentence, he doesn’t need to because Ryan is already pressing a hand in front of his mouth in order to not wake you up with his laugh. “It looks like you’re the one being jealous,” he laughs, glancing from Soobin to your sleeping form again. He thinks of it as a joke, convinced there’s no way Soobin would actually think he’s being jealous over him, but as his eyes scan his expression, he figures that’s not the case. 

“And you’re completely serious right now,” his eyes widening at the realization. “God, you think we have anything going on between us? I was the one who helped her figure out the possibility of being with you.” 

Soobin doesn’t say anything, just watching him, observing. He doesn’t understand. Ryan was possibly the only other boy who’s seen parts of you you didn’t show to other people, the same parts he fell in love with. He saw you in your prettiest dress and even though Soobin was too gagged to look anywhere but on you, he just assumed Ryan looked at you the same way. Because to him, it was crazy that any boy wouldn’t want you. 

Ryan hesitates for a second, rethinking the whole situation before sighing. “Really, there is absolutely nothing you have to worry about when it comes to us. There’s a better chance of Jisoo getting with her before I do.” Soobin’s expression doesn’t change and so he continues. “Remember my last date?” The question makes Soobin frown, unsure what that has to do with anything. 

“A boy,” he admits, his heart feeling heavier as he puts himself out there. “But I’m not–” his throat tightens when the words come out. Except for you, there was no one else he’s told. No one who he would trust enough to share the information with. “No one else knows so don’t–” 

“I won’t,” Soobin assures him quickly when he catches the change in his tone of voice, his built up jealousy and insecurity slowly fading away as he realizes how incredibly wrong he’s been all along. Of course, that’s why you said it was complicated when he asked if there weren’t a bunch of girls who liked him. He feels stupid. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s…whatever,” he mumbles, suddenly awkward. He needs to get away as soon as possible. “If anything just…text me again, I guess.” Soobin opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, Ryan is already on his way back to his room, not looking back again. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks down on you. “I’m an idiot, huh?” He mumbles, beginning to play with your hair gently again. “Petty, jealous, idiot.” 

You hum in your sleep, shifting slightly which only makes him chuckle. “Looks like you agree.” 

Your neck hurts when you stir awake. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, whining quietly. Blinking a few times, you get your eyes to focus again. They widen immediately when you see Soobin’s head resting against the back of the couch, sleeping. You turn to the side, the Tv turned off already and the coffee table just like you left it before falling asleep—full of half eaten snacks and empty bags. You slowly sit up, careful not to wake him up. He looks peaceful, his lips parted, a bit of saliva rolling down his chin. You chuckle. He’s cute. 

You clean up the mess on the table, humming quietly to a song currently playing in your head. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but when you’re done with everything and check your phone, it’s already two am. 

You come back to the couch, gently pressing your hand on Soobin’s shoulder. “Binnie,” you coo softly, watching him hum in his sleep as he shifts slightly. You smile, you never stop smiling when you’re with him. “You should sleep in your bed,” you say, hoping to wake him up. His eyes open for a second but you’re not sure if he even sees you because they close immediately after, his hand finding yours almost on an instinct. You yelp in surprise when he pulls you closer and you fall on to his lap. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You doubt if he even knows what he’s doing. 

Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. That might be the better scenario. 

“Soobin,” you coo again, kissing his cheek gently. “Let’s go to bed. This can’t be comfortable.” You kiss his nose, then forehead, gently squeezing his shoulder again. This time, it actually works and he opens his eyes, blinking a few times to make sense of the situation. “What’s going…” Before he can finish his question, you place another kiss on his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.” 

“Will you stay with me?” He asks, his voice a bit hoarse from the sleep. Your eyes widen in surprise, just for a second, before they soften. You cup his cheek, smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I will,” you nod. His grip tightens around your waist, his head falling to your shoulder as he inhales your scent. 

If this is how he gets every time he is sleepy, you hope he never gets the rest he deserves. 

“Come on,” you get up, holding his hand as you force him up on his feet as well. His fingers lace with yours, following you tiredly as you guide the way to his room. He accidentally kicks the couch on his way but you don’t say anything, chuckling quietly. 

“I’ll change to my pajamas and will be right back, okay?” You turn to him when you reach his room. He nods slowly, his hand falling back to his side. He opens the door, lingering for a second. “You’ll come, right?” You smile again, assuring him you will before leaving to your own room. 

When you get to Soobin’s room again, he’s sitting on his bed in his pajamas. “Aren’t you tired?” You ask, closing the door behind you. He looks up, extending his arms towards you to come in. “Yeah, but I was waiting for you.” You close the gap between you, standing between his legs as his arms settle on your thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh. He looks up at you and your heart immediately skips a beat. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, his hand carefully sliding up to the hem of your shorts. You blush at his words, “I didn’t know you were so needy when you’re tired,” you whisper, chuckling. 

He hums, and when his hands move to your ass, you sit on his lap again, running a hand through his hair. “When I told you to be like this earlier you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you tease him and he just grumbles. “What is it, baby?” 

“You’re here,” is all he says before kissing your jaw. “I don’t want to hold back when you’re right here.” His words echo in your ears and without a second of hesitation, you kiss him. He leans back with you, his arms resting on your waist as he lays down, his back pressed against the mattress. “Just for the night,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Let me want you a bit more.” 

Your breath shakes as you grind on top of him, looking for any sign of discomfort. A soft, shaky whine escapes his lips and his grip tightens. “Is this okay?” He nods, his eyes closed, refusing to look at you. “Soobin,” you whisper, feeling him harden under you as you grind once more. “Look at me.” 

His eyes flutter open, scanning your face carefully before his gaze drops to where your bodies meet. “Is this okay?” You ask once more, this time getting a proper response. “More than okay,” he assures you, watching you move on top of him. His breathing is anything but steady, his eyes glued to your body as if you’d disappear if he even just as blinked. “I don’t–” his voice breaks in half when you sit directly on his tip, your shorts clinging to your body as you rub yourself on top of him. “I’m not sure what to do.” 

“It’s okay,” you nod, understanding. “You don’t have to do anything. Let’s just feel good, hm?” He nods, his hands carefully sliding up your thighs. He can do that. He can stop overthinking it and just enjoy the moment, as long as he’s with you. 

His hands slowly wander under your shirt, keeping his eyes on you to check if he’s not overstepping as he cups your breast. You bite your bottom lip, nodding slightly to him. You let him squeeze your breast, let him explore what his touch does to you. He watches every reaction, every muffled moan that leaves your lips, and every move of your hips. You never stop rubbing yourself on him and with each passing second, he feels like he is about to explode. 

Leaning down again, you crash your lips with his in a hungry kiss. He doesn’t hesitate kissing you back and pulling you closer, if that’s even possible. He thrusts his hips up on instinct, a soft whimper escaping his lips. “Wai– Wait, fuck,” he curses, looking at his wet pants and your shorts. Mistake, he realizes. Seeing the mess you managed to create already only makes it harder for him not to cum in his pants. 

You slide your hand under his shirt, tracing the line of his abs slowly before moving down to his waistband, glancing up at him for approval. “Please,” he nods, prompting himself up on his elbows as he watches you. You move aside, biting your bottom lip as you give his hard on a squeeze through the pants before pulling them down. Fuck. Soobin was tall, you knew that, of course, but you didn’t expect him to be packing down there so much as well. 

“Have you thought about me before? While jerking off?” You watch his ears turn red, figuring that’s a yes. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes flickering between his cock, abs, and face. In the ideal world, you could ride all of them. “Want to show me?” 

Soobin sits with his eyes glued to your body, his right hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in slow motion. You sit opposite him, your legs spread apart, pajama clothes somewhere on the floor, long forgotten by then, and your chest on full display. “What else did you think about?” You ask, watching his eyes scan your naked body. 

His eyes fall down to your fingers on your clit, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I– Your boobs,” he admits slowly, avoiding looking you in the eyes from embarrassment. “Kissing them, holding them, uhm,” he bites down his moan as the image clouds his mind, his cock twitching in his hand and breath shaking. “About how you’d look if…if we were…” 

“Yeah?” You can see that he’s close to finishing, barely able to speak without moaning or whimpering. It was hot. 

“My imagination has nothing on reality,” he mumbles, curses slipping past his lips as he watches you finger yourself, his hips thrusting into his hand with more force than before. You smirk, “that good?” He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but before he can do so, you pull out your fingers and bring them to his mouth. 

He knows he should feel embarrassed. He probably looks like a teenage boy who’s never touched a woman in his life—which he wouldn’t be far from actually—when he reaches his orgasm as soon as his lips wrap around your fingers, but he can’t seem to care. Not when you taste this good, not when you’re looking at him as if it was the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Can I..?” He asks with the biggest puppy eyes possible and even though you don’t know what he’s asking for, you nod. He moves closer to you, spreading your legs more before his hand caresses your thighs, slowly making his way to your core. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit the same way he watched you do so moments ago. You moan under his touch, guiding his hand lower and giving him a reassuring nod before he inserts two of his fingers into your hole. His fingers are longer than yours, without a doubt, and it shows. “Just like that, fuck, exactly there,” your eyes roll back when he hits your spot, listening to your moans as he pumps his fingers into you. 

Soobin closes the distance between you, his free hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you again while his other hand brings you to your orgasm, muffling every one of your moans with his lips. “Was that okay?” He asks, the nervousness in his voice obvious. You giggle, your breathing heavy as you press your forehead to his. “You’re doing amazing,” you nod. “Absolutely fucking amazing.” 

He giggles with you, exhaling in relief. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses you again, this time with less need but much more affection, hoping you can feel all the years he’s spent loving you from afar coming up on the surface. 

The following days became easier. You watched the nervousness and wariness in his eyes slowly change into something comfortable and familiar. He stopped being so hesitant, greeting you with a kiss every morning as if you were an old couple, holding your hand when you walked around campus, and taking you out on dates any chance he got. It was nice, and you could feel your heart skipping a beat every time his gaze lingered on you even a second longer than necessary. 

You could see yourself growing old with those eyes. 

“What are you hiding?” Soobin comes into the kitchen just as you’re leaning over the counter, a teasing grin on your face and Ryan a few steps beside you, smiling at his phone. He could recognize that smile from miles away, it was the same one he had for years on his face when he talked to you. 

“I’m not hiding anything,” he says, way too quickly to your liking. “You’re trying to see things where they’re not.” 

“What’s going on?” Soobin asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. You straighten your back and he immediately rests his head on your shoulder, watching Ryan with a spark of curiosity. His eyes flicker between the two of you, hating that it was so easy for you to see right through him. “Nothing’s going on, alright? Can’t I text people?” 

You frown. “I never said you can’t. But you’ve been texting someone for ages and it makes me wonder why you haven’t told me anything about it.” Soobin can almost hear the pout in your voice and places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Because I told you I’m not dating again. It’s just a friend, and I don’t see a reason why I should tell you I have a new friend.” 

“You don’t have to close yourself off for everyone because one date didn’t go right,” Soobin meets his eyes and Ryan swallows everything he wanted to say when he hits a soft spot. This was nowhere close to how he wanted his evening to look like. “Didn’t you say you were going to stream tonight?” The question comes out harsher than intended but before he can apologize, Soobin nods slightly. “Yeah, I am,” he agrees, giving Ryan one last look of sympathy before turning to you. “Want to join me?” 

You blink, glancing between your two roommates. You want to stay, ask Ryan more and assure him that whatever he set his mind on is stupid, but you can see how tired he is of this conversation. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you know when to stop minding other people’s business, even if they’re your best friend. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” you nod. Soobin catches the sigh that leaves your lips but doesn’t comment on it, lacing his fingers with yours instead and leading you to his room. 

“You can’t be mad at him for keeping in,” Soobin says, sitting down on his gaming chair and extending his arms for you to come in. You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you stand between his legs. “I know, and I’m not. I just… I don’t want him to deal with everything on his own.” His hands slide up the back of your thighs, a pitiful smile on his lips. 

“I’ll talk to him later, okay? Maybe he’ll tell me something,” he offers, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles. “Don’t beat yourself over it. He’ll tell you about it when he’s ready.” 

You nod, sitting on his lap with your hands on his shoulder. “Have I told you you’re absolutely amazing yet?” He chuckles, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “You can tell me that as many times you want,” he smiles into the kiss, a soft giggle escaping your lips. 

“What’s the plan tonight?” You wonder when you pull back. He turns on the chair, his arm wrapped around your waist as he turns his PC on. When he types in his password and you notice it being your birthday, you can’t help but smile, your cheeks turning pink as you lean into his chest. “Phasmophobia,” he says, showing you the game. You watch his screen as he explains some of the rules of the game with the gameplay, nodding quietly. You let him talk, listening to his every word. It’s honestly attractive. It’s not like he’s doing much, but it’s enough. 

“Yeonjun hasn’t played it yet and we were thinking of texting Kai to join us but if you want, we can connect your laptop and you could play with us instead?” He turns his head to you, his face mare inches away from yours. You blink, shaking your head, “you said you haven’t played with Kai in a long time, you shouldn’t exclude him just because of me.” 

“I want to play with you,” he states firmly. “You should know by now I’d choose you over the boys any time.” If you were blushing before, you must look like a tomato right now. Before he can say anything else and send you into a spiral, you kiss him again, your hand on his neck as you pull him close. He doesn’t take long to catch up, pushing his tongue between your lips and deepening the kiss, his fingers digging into your waist. “You’re too good to me,” you whisper. 

“You’re the one too good to me. I’m just treating you as anyone you’ve ever given a chance to should have.” 

“You should be a poet instead,” you mumble, averting your gaze from him. You know he’s about to say something more, but he’s interrupted by an incoming call on discord, the screen flashing with The Choi’s group chat. Thank God, honestly. Whatever he wanted to say would probably make your heart race faster than it already does and you don’t need a heart attack right now. 

You accept the call, the first thing you hear being Beomgyu’s grumble. “We’ll have to use walkie talkies in the game, why are we starting a call here?” Soobin chuckles quietly, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder, clicking through something on his screen. “He’s new to the game, cut him some slack,” he says and you catch a faint curse on the other side, assuming it must be from Yeonjun. 

“Whatever, who cares. Is everyone ready now? Can I text Kai? He might be asleep though, he said something about pulling an all-nighter the night before and feeling like passing out when I talked to him earlier.” As soon as Yeonjun finishes his question, Soobin turns his head to look at you again, looking for an answer in your eyes. You nod slightly, his smile widening immediately. 

“Don’t bother. I have our fourth player. She’s sitting on my lap as we speak.” 

It wasn’t a secret to any of your friends that you and Soobin were something now. Apparently, they knew so even before you did. Soobin looked terrified when Beomgyu told you a few days ago that he’s glad he finally had the balls to ask you out because it was getting annoying having to listen to him enthuse about how in love with you he was. All you could do at the moment was laugh. Then, after Beomgyu left, you showered Soobin in kisses on his bed and he promised to tell you how in love he is more often if that’s what he gets in return. He was adorable. 

The two boys greet you immediately, asking about how your day was and if Soobin is being annoying. It makes you chuckle because he is anything but. You talk with them for a bit, Soobin’s hands still wrapped around you and hugging you tightly. You love moments like these. 

You’re not sure how much time passes but eventually, you leave to get your laptop while Soobin prepares his stream, his camera and microphone already on when you come back. You place the laptop on his bed—which is also the place you agreed on sitting before even though it wasn’t exactly ideal to be in the same room while using walkie talkies—and join his side, greeting his chat with a smile. 

In the blink of an eye, the comments change from simple hello’s and questions about what the plane for today is into more personal ones—mostly about your relationship. A few people ask about your name, new fans you assume, but most of the people are asking if the rumors are true and you truly are dating. It was kind of obvious by now. Just a few days earlier, Soobin made a new post on his instagram with pictures from an actual date you had. They were cute, and made it into your highlights as well. 

He turns his head to you, not answering any of their questions. A sign of the same vulnerability you saw almost every day at the beginning flickers in his eyes, the question hanging in the air. You know which one made him like this. Are you two dating? You haven’t put a label on anything, didn’t think it was needed, but when your eyes meet his, and you see the hope in them, you want a label more than ever before. 

You smile, a gentle, soft one that always makes him calmer and turn towards the camera. “You got us,” you nod. “We are dating. But no, he does not fall into the streamer stereotypes and does shower every day, so I’m not in any danger,” you laugh, briefly glancing at Soobin. He looks puzzled, but his expression lasts less than a second, immediately being replaced with excitement and a hint of relief. 

“Wouldn’t want to stink near my beautiful girlfriend,” he grins and you have to roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds. You shake your head at him, but the smile on your face never disappears. “Get your game ready, pretty boy. I don’t have the whole night for you.” He cocks his head to you, a teasing smirk on his face as he mouths “you sure?” at you. You fight the urge to throw a pillow at him. 

“What on Earth are they doing?” You laugh, watching Beomgyu and Yeonjun move their characters in the lobby, getting into some weird positions they definitely wouldn’t be able to recreate in real life. Soobin laughs with you, shaking his head. He was playing around with settings now, trying to convince you to go on pro mode. Neither Yeonjun nor you knew if that was something you wanted to jump into but thankfully (or possibly unfortunately) you had Beomgyu on your side, arguing with Soobin immediately that you weren’t ready and it would end up with him being alive alone again. 

“Everyone get ready,” Soobin commands, your earlier laugh replaced with a chuckle immediately. “Yes, captain,” you joke, and even though you see him rolling his eyes, you also notice the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Soobin helps you out during the game a lot, always walking around beside you so you don’t stay anywhere alone and don’t get yourself killed, reminding you what certain keys do, and working with you on figuring out what kind of a ghost you’re dealing with. Anyone new joining his stream probably doesn’t even know Beomgyu and Yeonjun are in the game as well. You barely know of their presence yourself. 

After three successful rounds, Soobin finally convinced you to play on pro mode, still staying by your side as he ran around, trying to figure out the ghost’s spawn place. Yeonjun walked right behind you, holding a camera in his hands while Beomgyu stayed in the van, laughing his ass off as he watched you through Yeonjun’s camera. It slowly turned into Soobin continuously telling him to do something and him arguing that you had it all covered already. It had Soobin grumbling and his chat laughing. 

You played for two hours and half until Beomgyu had to leave—a date as Soobin informed you earlier—and you all decided to call it a day. You stretch out on the bed, pushing the heating laptop off your legs. Soobin leans back in his chair once his computer is turned off, turning to face you. “Had fun tonight?” 

You smile, nodding. You open your arms and he doesn’t hesitate getting up from his place and making his way over to you, plopping down on top of you. You giggle, bringing him down to kiss him. “So much fun,” you answer, wrapping your arms behind his neck. 

“You were so pretty,” he praises, placing a soft kiss to your nose. “I wanted to kiss you every time you gave me that clueless pout,” he whispers, this time leaving a kiss on your cheek. You giggle, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “Kiss me twice as much now then.” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, already claiming your lips. He wraps his hands behind your back, keeping you as close as possible until he decides to change positions, his lips never leaving yours as he sits down and helps you onto his lap. His hand moves up to your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss. He could go like this all day if he could. 

You run a hand through his hair, forcing him to pull back when you tug at a few of his strands. He groans, eyes meeting yours. You bite back a moan yourself when you look at him, every sane thought you had until now disappearing out of the window when he looks up at you like that. “Love,” he whispers, his hands trailing down your sides until he makes it under your shirt. “Yes, baby?” You smile innocently, pretending that his touch doesn’t send shivers throughout your whole body. 

“You’re beautiful.” You learnt to accept his compliments after some time (because you’re not sure if there has been a day in which he wouldn’t compliment you in some way) but they still worked on you every time, making you blush. His hands move to your back again, unclipping your bra with ease. You help him get your shirt off, your bra following right after. He smiles, one of his hands cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other settles on your waist. You can’t even blink before his mouth meets your other boob, his tongue circling your nipple. 

You run your hand through his hair again, a soft whine escaping your lips as you grind on him from the pleasure. He glances at you briefly, and when he sees your eyes closed, the moans that leave your lips showing him just how much you’re enjoying yourself, he sucks harder, taking his sweet time with each of your breasts. 

“Baby,” you whine, rolling your hips against his. He finally pulls away, meeting your eyes with a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please.” 

Your back presses against the mattress, your boyfriend hovering on top of you and kissing his way down your body. Once his mouth reaches your pants, he tugs them down slowly, kissing your inner thigh. You open your legs for him without hesitation, causing a groan to leave his lips. He settles himself between your legs, kissing his way up from your thigh to your clit. “Just a small taste,” he begs, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your nipple moments ago. 

It’s been days of exploring each other’s bodies, finding out what pleasures the other and what doesn’t. It took some time, but he’d like to say he knows how to get you off without any problems now, one of those things being your newly discovered obsession with riding his nose. 

And what kind of a boyfriend would he be if he didn’t give you the opportunity to do so? 

Soobin presses his nose against your clit, his tongue pushing past your folds. Your moans fill the room shortly after, even if you try to keep it down so as not to disturb your roommate, gripping the sheets on your side. You roll your hips against him, your eyes rolling back when his tongue enters your hole. As if that wasn’t enough on its own, his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you where he wants so he controls all of your pleasure. 

“Wa–Wait,” you gasp, your orgasm building in your stomach faster than you can comprehend. He simply hums against you, not bothering with looking up as he licks you. “So pretty,” he mumbles again, sucking on your clit. You gasp, finding his hair with your fingers and trying to tug him away from you, your legs closing simultaneously. 

Fortunately, he only pulls back once you reach your orgasm, finishing on his mouth. He licks his lips clean, smiling. “You,” your breath catches and you’re not even sure what you want to say. Did so fucking good? Were absolutely amazing? Take better care of me than anyone else? 

“It’s okay,” he coos, coming up to kiss you. He brushes your hair from your face gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You can do one more, right?” You don’t answer, you can’t. All you can think about is, where did you even learn all that? 

But you know the answer. From you. Everything he knows, he’s learnt from you, because he wanted to. He learnt how to talk, when the right time to kiss you is, where to press at times, and how to be a good mix of someone who could—and wanted—to please you, and the same person he was before who didn’t even know a handful of positions. 

His thumb gently circles your clit, causing a few whines to leave your lips. He keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer. Even though you told him before it was okay to overstimulate you sometimes, he didn’t need to do so. He was glad he could make you feel good, even if it means having to take care of his throbbing cock alone in the bathroom. 

But you wouldn’t let that happen, slowly nodding. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “I can take one more.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips before getting his clothes off, too busy admiring your naked body to look where they ended up after he threw them to the floor. 

Soobin rubs his cock between your folds, his eyes glued to your body. “Wanna go raw?” you offer and his eyes immediately widen. He has condoms, somewhere in his top drawer of his desk, but at the moment, he completely forgot about something like protection, his mind too occupied with different thoughts. “Can I?” He looks up and you smile, nodding. 

“Fuck,” he curses, aligning himself slowly. He looks up once more for reassurance and when you chuckle, telling him it’s okay, he thrusts his tip in, giving you some time to adjust before he slaps his hips with yours. You gasp immediately, your moans coming out broken as he starts moving. 

Soobin’s soft praises mixed with his groans fill your ears, your eyes rolling back as his fingers lace with yours and he slows down again, hitting just the right spot. At that moment, even though your head is empty, one singular thought manages to pop up. I love you, Soobin.  

You don’t say anything though, holding his hand with your mouth wide open and head thrown back. Yeah, he is good. 

His thrusts turn sloppy, his energy slowly dying out as he reaches his climax. You came just seconds ago with his name falling from your lips as if you were a broken record and now it was finally his turn. You wrap your legs behind his back, keeping him in place and making sure he doesn’t even think about pulling out. You need to feel him filling you up, showing you you’re his. And he’ll gladly do so. 

“Shit,” he gasps, squeezing your hand tighter as he finishes, his eyes wide. “Fuck– That was so good.” You giggle, relaxing your legs again and trying to catch your breath. He curses again when he pulls out of you and hears you whine, fighting himself not to get hard again. He lays down beside you, dropping his arm around your stomach and pulling you flush against his body. 

“I love you,” he mumbles, just like he has many times before. But this time, it’s different after all. Because this time, you can say it back. 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, sealing the words with a kiss.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @saejinniestar @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @heesmiles @t-102 @jellyyjn @feet4liferss @soobinieswife @yunxiang0524 @xodidarks @jellyyjn @bunniwords @cocoalmond @tteokbunni @chaotic-floral @fancypeacepersona @beomgyusluver @ros1eluvsbinnie ✶⋆

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[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Better Than Fiction

where y/n picks Harry up from the airport and reveals what she does when she’s alone.

word count: 5.1 k

content warning: cursing. SMUT. Probably the smuttiest thing I’ve ever done.

You tap the steering wheel with your thumb, eyes flicking between the road and the dashboard clock. The sky is a soft blue-gray, the kind that only happens right before sunset, and the air feels thick with the kind of quiet that only comes when something good is about to happen.

You haven’t seen him in two months. Eight weeks. Sixty-something days—not that you’ve been counting, except you absolutely have. Every time you dropped your phone on your face watching his interviews in bed. Every time he sent a blurry backstage photo with a caption like “thinking of you.” Every time you climbed into your empty sheets and curled your body around the pillow he left behind like that would make any kind of difference.

Your stomach flutters as you take the exit for the airport, the big green signs snapping you back to reality. His flight landed about fifteen minutes ago. You know it’ll take time to get through customs and baggage claim, but still. You’re suddenly nervous. You check your reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothing your hand over your hair even though the curls won’t settle, then press your lips together to check for smudges. Natural. Low effort. Like you’re not buzzing in your seat just thinking about him.

You keep wondering what version of him you’ll get today. The soft one with sleepy eyes and heavy limbs who tucks his head into your neck and hums when he breathes you in. The quiet one who just wants to be close. Or maybe the cheeky one who teases you in the car the whole way home and can’t keep his hands to himself once the door clicks shut.

Either way, he’s here. Finally.

You pull into the short-term parking garage and kill the engine, heart thudding now. This is it. He’s just a few hundred feet away. Probably dragging his duffel bag behind him, scrolling his phone or yawning through his last wave of exhaustion. You sling your purse over your shoulder and head toward the terminal.

Your boots echo across the pavement. The air inside is warmer than you expected, and loud. Rolling suitcases, babies crying, someone’s name being paged overhead. You scan the arrivals board as if you don’t already know—Flight 202. London to New York. Landed.

He steps through the sliding doors like he’s walking into a scene that’s been waiting for him.

Loose brown trousers, soft white tee, sunglasses hanging from the collar. His hair’s shorter than when you last saw him, brushed back with that casually undone look that somehow makes it worse—makes your heart thud harder in your chest. There’s a little color to his skin, a post-tour flush like he’s been somewhere warm, somewhere you weren’t. His duffel hangs from one shoulder, hand gripping the strap, and he scans the crowd like he’s looking for something he lost.

Until his eyes land on you.

He doesn’t smile at first. Not really. His whole body just seems to pause, his gaze locked on yours like he forgot how loud the world is. You feel it like a pull—an ache that settles low in your belly, sharp and immediate. Because it’s not just recognition in his eyes. It’s hunger.

You don’t move. Neither does he. The space between you hums.

Then someone breaks it.

“Harry?” A man, maybe in his twenties, stepping hesitantly forward with a phone in hand. “Sorry, I know you just got in, but—could I get a quick photo?”

Harry blinks. Just once. Then turns to him with a practiced, polite smile.

“Yeah, of course.”

He poses without effort, one hand still gripping his bag. The smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

You watch him thank the guy, watch the fan beam as he walks away. And then Harry’s looking at you again, already moving toward you. Slower this time. Like he’s trying to stay calm. Like he knows he won’t be, not for long.

He doesn’t say anything.

Not at first.

He just lets the strap of his duffel fall to the floor with a quiet thud and steps into you, arms winding tight around your waist like it’s instinct. You barely have time to breathe before he’s pressing you close, his body all solid warmth and tension, chest rising fast against yours.

Then he leans in.

Not for a kiss—not yet. He presses his face into the side of your neck and just breathes. Long, slow, deliberate. Like he’s been holding off for this exact moment, saving it, needing it more than he let on.

You feel it before you hear it—the way his exhale trembles just slightly, the way his fingers grip a little harder at the small of your back. Like maybe this hit him harder than he was ready for.

“God, I missed you,” he mumbles against your skin, the words thick and barely there.

Your eyes flutter shut. Your hands slide up his back, curling in the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders. He’s here. He’s really here.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing the hem of your shirt where it meets your jeans. His eyes roam your face like he’s memorizing it again, slower this time, softer. His voice is a whisper, the accent heavy and real in a way you’ve only heard on the phone lately.

“Y’look so fuckin’ good, baby.”

Your heart trips. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

He tilts his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, and smiles like he’s already thinking ten steps ahead.

“Been thinkin’ about you non-stop. Every night. Every bloody city. Drove me mad.”

You laugh, soft and breathless, and pull back just enough to see him clearly.

“I missed you too,” you say, grinning now, the weight in your chest finally loosening. “Even the dramatic part of you.”

He smiles like he’s proud of that, dimples deep and eyes flicking to your mouth like he’s thinking about kissing you again. But instead, he slips a hand into yours and starts walking, his duffel back over his shoulder, your fingers laced like they’ve never been apart.

Outside, the sky’s shifting to gold. The kind of light that softens everything, that makes moments feel like memories while they’re still happening.

As you make your way to the garage, you glance over at him. “D’you wanna stop for food before we head home?”

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Nah,” he says, voice low, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Only thing I wanna eat is you.”

You choke on a laugh, your whole face heating. “Harry.”

“What?” he says, eyes wide like he’s innocent, but his hand tightens around yours. “I’m starvin’, love.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile as your stomach flips. Two months apart, and of course this is how he comes back. Cocky. Gorgeous. Starving.

And apparently, not for takeout.

The elevator ride to the garage is quiet, but only because his hand won’t stop wandering—thumb tracing slow circles into your palm, pinky brushing your wrist like he’s trying to remember every inch of you without making a scene.

Once you reach the car, he tosses his bag in the back like it weighs nothing and slides into the passenger seat, reclined and smug. His legs spread a little wider than necessary. You try not to look, but he catches you anyway.

“Eyes on the road, sweetheart,” he murmurs as you pull out of the garage.

You roll your eyes. “You’re the one sitting like you’re in a Calvin Klein ad.”

He grins, slow and wicked. “Don’t act like you weren’t lookin’. Missed that face of yours when you get all flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

“You are,” he says, tipping his head against the headrest. “Little pink right there.” He lifts his finger and brushes it under his own cheekbone to show you. “Cute.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose and flick on your turn signal. “Do you want something quick? Like drive-thru? Or—”

“I meant what I said,” he interrupts, voice a little lower now. “Didn’t spend nine hours on a plane just to ruin my appetite with fries.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He hums like it’s a compliment. “Reckon I’ve had that dream at least five times. You. Couch. No clothes. Me starvin’.”

You grip the steering wheel tighter and do your best to keep your eyes on the road. It’s not going well.

“Harry,” you warn.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll wait till we get home.”

A pause.

“Probably.”

You glance at him, lips twitching. “Bold of you to assume you’re the one doing the eating.”

He turns his head slowly, that smug little smirk faltering as his eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”

You shrug, eyes back on the road. “You’ve had dreams? Babe, I’ve had entire scenarios planned. You don’t even know.”

He’s quiet for a beat, and when you look over, he’s staring at you like you just flipped the game on its head.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath, shifting in his seat. “I’ve been gone too long.”

You bite back your grin, suddenly enjoying how the air in the car feels thick now, humming with that delicious tension. Payback feels good.

He leans closer, voice like gravel against the warm press of sunset through the window. “Tell me one of ‘em. Just one.”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

“You can earn it.”

His head falls back with a groan, one hand dragging down his face. “You’re evil.”

“And you’re desperate.”

He lets out a soft laugh, low and turned on. “That I am.”

The car ride softens after that.

He reaches over and rests a hand on your thigh, fingers splayed warm against your jeans. Not moving, not teasing—just there. Grounding. You drive one-handed the rest of the way, stealing glances at him whenever the road lets you.

He looks more like himself now. Less performer, more person. His eyes are a little heavy, his curls ruffled from the headrest, his body sunk deeper into the seat like it’s finally catching up with him—how long he’s been gone, how much he missed this. Missed you.

You slow as you turn down your street. Familiar trees, familiar windows. The kind of quiet that tells you you’re nearly home.

He shifts beside you, eyes opening again as he recognizes the corner. “Flat’s still standing, yeah?”

You nod, lips tugging into a smile. “I only set it on fire twice.”

He grins, squeezing your leg gently. “Knew I could trust you.”

The car rolls to a stop outside your building. The sun’s dipping lower now, casting long shadows across the pavement. You don’t move yet. Neither does he.

There’s a beat of silence, heavy in a different way this time.

Then, softer—

“You sure you’re ready for me?” he asks, like he’s only half-joking. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.”

Your heart stutters, but your voice stays steady.

“Been ready since the day you left.”

The lobby is quiet except for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the echo of your footsteps on the tile. You feel him behind you—close, so close—his presence brushing up your spine like static. Neither of you says much. There’s nothing left to say, not right now. It’s all waiting just under the surface.

You press the elevator button. The light flickers on, then nothing. You glance at him.

His eyes are dark.

The elevator arrives with a slow chime, and you both step inside. The doors slide shut and it’s just the two of you now, standing side by side in the warm silence.

You can feel the way his fingers flex at his sides. Can hear the slow rhythm of his breathing. There’s a twitch in your own hands—an urge to touch, to reach, to give in already—but you keep still. Barely.

The numbers tick up. Seven. Eight. Nine. It’s excruciating.

He leans in, whispering just loud enough for you to hear. “This thing’s takin’ the piss.”

You bite your lip. “Almost there.”

When the doors finally open, you step out first. You don’t wait. Not this time.

You lead the way down the hall, heart pounding harder with every step. You reach the door, slide your key in with a hand that isn’t quite steady. The lock clicks.

Before you can even reach for the light switch, you hear the thud of his bag hitting the floor.

Then he’s on you.

His hands are on your hips, your back, your waist, pulling you into him as the door shuts hard behind you. His mouth finds your neck, warm and hungry, and your gasp fills the dark hallway. You don’t need the lights. You just need him—right here, right now.

He lifts your shirt slightly, lips brushing just beneath your jaw.

“Couldn’t wait another bloody second,” he mumbles against your skin.

And then he kisses you like he means to make up for every second he’s been gone.

Your back hits the door with a soft thud, the wood cool through your shirt, but everything else is heat. His hands are everywhere—one at your waist, the other sliding up your side beneath the hem of your top, rough fingertips skimming bare skin like he’s rediscovering you inch by inch.

His mouth crashes into yours before you can speak, and all the air leaves your lungs at once.

It’s not frantic. It’s not rushed.

It’s worse than that.

It’s slow. Intentional. Full of that maddening kind of restraint that only comes from someone who’s been imagining this in vivid detail for weeks. His lips move over yours like he’s tasting a memory—soft, then deep, then soft again. He kisses you like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

You melt into him without meaning to, hands sliding up under the hem of his shirt, fingers grazing the curve of his waist, the slope of his back. He shivers under your touch.

When you pull away just enough to breathe, his mouth doesn’t stop. He trails kisses across your cheek, down the curve of your jaw, to that spot just below your ear that makes your knees go weak. He knows it does. He lingers there, mouth warm and open, the scrape of his teeth just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuckin’ missed this,” he breathes, voice thick and rough, his accent slurring the edges of every word. “Missed you.”

You don’t even try to answer. You just kiss him again, harder this time, your fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

He presses closer, slotting a leg between yours, the weight of him pressing into every line of your body. You feel the tension in his muscles, the way he holds back, jaw tight like he’s clinging to control by a thread.

And God, it makes you want him more.

His thumb strokes the underside of your breast through your bra, slow and teasing, while his other hand cradles the back of your head like he can’t bear to be any further from your mouth.

When he kisses you again, it’s deeper. Wetter. His tongue slides against yours and it’s all heat now, all need. You arch into him, breath catching in your throat.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against your lips. “Yeah?”

You nod, eyes locked on his, and he presses one last kiss to your mouth—soft, like a promise—before guiding you away from the door.

His hand stays at the small of your back as he walks you through the flat, steering you gently down the hallway. The air feels warmer here, more still, like even the rooms missed him. When you reach the bedroom, he nudges the door open with his foot and leads you in like it’s something sacred.

He stops at the edge of the bed and looks at you, eyes dark and steady.

“Sit down for me, love.”

You do, heart hammering as you settle on the edge of the mattress, legs just barely parted, your eyes tilted up to him. He steps between your knees, fingers reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. Then both hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt.

“Arms up.”

You raise them without hesitation, and he peels your shirt off slow, knuckles grazing your skin as he lifts the fabric over your head. It drops to the floor behind him, forgotten.

He leans in again, mouth catching yours before you can speak. His kiss is deeper now, slower, hands resting just beneath your ribs as he presses into you. Every inch of him is warm. Grounded. Certain.

Between kisses, his fingers move to the button of your jeans.

You feel the faint pop of denim giving way, the soft drag of his knuckles as he works them open. He doesn’t look down. Doesn’t break the kiss. Just keeps kissing you like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing he’s craved since he left.

You lift your hips for him and his hands slide around to your thighs, easing your jeans down, dragging the fabric slow over your skin. The kiss never falters. His lips move with yours like he’s drinking you in, like nothing—not time or distance or fabric—should’ve ever been between you to begin with.

When he finally pulls back, your jeans are on the floor, your chest is rising fast, and his mouth is pink from how long he’s kept it on yours.

His eyes rake over you, voice low and ragged.

“Fuckin’ hell, look at you.”

You laugh softly, a nervous little sound that slips out without warning. He catches it right away, eyes narrowing like he’s just found a crack in the wall.

“What’s that for?” he asks, voice low but amused. His hands rest on your bare thighs, thumbs brushing lazy circles into your skin. “Somethin’ funny, sweetheart?”

You shrug, lips twitching like you’re trying to play it off, but he doesn’t buy it. Not for a second.

He leans in, mouth brushing just beneath your ear. “Tell me somethin’,” he murmurs, breath warm on your skin. “What do you do when I’m not here? When you’re feelin’ like this. D’you take care of yourself?”

You go still. Not because you don’t know the answer. But because you do.

His lips curl against your cheek. “You get shy on me now?”

“I don’t—” you start, then falter. Your voice is soft when you finally speak. “I don’t really do that.”

He pulls back just enough to see your face, one brow raised. “Liar.”

You flush.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been gone two months. Don’t tell me you haven’t done a single thing. That’s cruel.”

You hesitate.

Then, barely audible—

“I read.”

His brow furrows, amused. “You read?”

You nod, eyes flicking down to his collarbone. “Stuff online.”

There’s a pause.

And then, his voice drops, accent thick with curiosity and something darker.

“Fan fiction?”

You nod again, smaller this time.

He stares at you like he’s just been handed a gift he wasn’t expecting.

“No fuckin’ way,” he murmurs, smiling now, a little breathless. “You read fan fiction about me?”

Your face burns.

He leans in closer, one hand cradling your jaw.

“Gonna need you to walk me through that, baby.”

Your eyes dart away from his, and your fingers fidget with the hem of your underwear, suddenly very aware of how little you’re wearing—and how close he is.

He watches you carefully, waiting. Patient, but barely.

“It’s just…” you start, then trail off, chewing your bottom lip. “Stuff people write. About you. About… you and someone like me.”

His brow arches. “Someone like you?”

You nod, embarrassed. “Normal. Not famous. Not anyone special. Just… someone.”

You feel his hand tighten slightly on your thigh, and when you glance up, there’s a glint in his eye. He’s not laughing at you. He’s fascinated.

“And what happens in these stories?” he asks, voice soft, coaxing. “You get shy? Or do they make you do filthy little things?”

You press your lips together, face flaming, but he can see it. The answer written all over you.

He chuckles, low and warm in his chest, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “You’re tellin’ me you’ve been sittin’ in our bed at night, readin’ about me fuckin’ you senseless?”

Your breath hitches.

He pulls back just enough to look at you again, eyes sweeping your face like he wants to see every flicker of reaction. His voice is husky now, rough with interest.

“That’s so dirty, love.”

You try to speak, but he’s already leaning in, pressing a kiss just below your jaw.

“And you just sit there with your little phone,” he murmurs, lips brushing your throat. “Readin’ things I haven’t even done to you yet.”

You swallow hard, eyes flicking down before you can stop yourself—and there it is. The outline of him, straining against his trousers, the fabric doing nothing to hide just how much he wants you.

Your breath catches. The sight makes your thighs press together involuntarily, a quiet ache growing where his hands haven’t touched yet.

He notices.

Of course he does.

His smirk deepens, dark and lazy. “Gettin’ worked up just from that, are you?” he teases, thumb brushing the inside of your knee. “Didn’t even have to touch you yet.”

You exhale shakily, your voice soft. “I want you to.”

He stills for a beat—just one. Then his expression shifts. The playfulness doesn’t vanish, but something darker, more focused, settles into his eyes.

“Yeah?” he murmurs. “You lettin’ me take over now, baby?”

You nod, already breathless. “Please.”

That’s all it takes.

He leans in and kisses you again—harder this time, deeper, like permission unlocked something in him. His hands are on your hips, your waist, your ribs, sliding up until they’re cupping your breasts through your bra. He palms you there, slow and firm, like he’s been missing the weight of you in his hands.

“You’ve got no idea what that does to me,” he mutters into your mouth. “You, sittin’ all pretty, readin’ about me fuckin’ you just like this…”

His fingers reach around to undo the clasp of your bra, taking his time, letting the tension pull tight as elastic. When it finally falls away, he breathes you in like he’s starving again.

Then, without a word, he lowers himself to his knees in front of you, lips brushing your stomach, hands gripping your thighs.

“Gonna take my fuckin’ time with you,” he says, voice a promise against your skin.

He drags his hands up the backs of your thighs, thumbs brushing the crease where they meet your hips as he settles between them. You’re already trembling under his touch, legs slightly parted on instinct, eyes locked on him as he looks up at you from the floor like you’re something sacred.

“Lie back for me, love,” he says, voice rough and low.

You shift back onto the bed, elbows catching you for a second before you sink into the pillows, legs still dangling over the edge. His hands follow you the whole way—never losing contact—until he’s got your thighs open just the way he wants them.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and looks up again.

“This what you pictured when you were readin’?” he asks, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Me down here, beggin’ for a taste?”

You nod, breath shallow. “Yes.”

That’s all he needs.

He pulls your underwear down slow, eyes following every inch of skin he reveals like he’s memorizing it, storing it away. Once they’re off, he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, then your thigh, then higher—trailing heat until your whole body’s drawn tight with anticipation.

Then his mouth is on you.

His tongue flicks over you gently at first, teasing, testing. Then he flattens it, licking a slow stripe up your center that makes your hips jerk and a soft cry spill from your lips. His hands slide under your thighs, keeping you open, anchored, at his mercy.

He groans when he tastes you fully, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Fuckin’ missed this,” he mutters, voice muffled against you. “Missed how sweet you are.”

He settles in deeper, his mouth working you in slow, steady movements—tongue swirling, lips sucking just enough to make your toes curl. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t let up. Just builds it slowly, deliberately, like he’s got nowhere else to be but here, worshiping you.

Your hand slides into his hair, gripping when his tongue flicks just right, hips lifting into him as the tension coils hard in your belly.

“You’re gonna come for me, yeah?” he murmurs against you, breath hot. “Right on my fuckin’ tongue. Let me have it.”

You’re close—so close it almost hurts. The pressure’s built tight in your belly, your thighs shaking around his shoulders, his name falling from your lips in broken pieces. He doesn’t let up. If anything, he gets hungrier, tongue working you with that slow, steady rhythm that undoes you completely.

Your back arches off the bed. Fingers tangle in his hair.

“Harry—fuck—Harry, I’m gonna—”

He groans against you like that’s exactly what he wants, like the sound of your voice wrecked and desperate is the only thing keeping him alive. And then you’re falling apart. The orgasm hits hard, flooding through you in waves, and he holds you right there, mouth never leaving you, like he wants every last bit of it.

You whimper as you come down, your body twitching from the aftershocks, chest heaving. He finally lifts his head, lips slick, eyes dark and blown.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Knew you’d be sweet for me.”

You’re still catching your breath when you reach for him, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Take your clothes off,” you whisper. “I need you to fuck me.”

That gets his attention.

He laughs softly, rising to his feet. “That desperate, hm?”

“Yes,” you say, no shame in your voice. “I need you.”

He leans over you, bracing his hands on either side of your head, his mouth ghosting just over yours. You can feel him, hard against your thigh, still fully clothed, and it’s maddening.

“Could keep you like this a while,” he says, teasing. “All needy and wrecked and beggin’ for it. Could make you wait.”

You whimper, hips shifting beneath him. “Don’t be cruel.”

He grins, dipping down to kiss you slow, tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owns it. Then he pulls back just enough to whisper, voice low and hot—

“Then tell me how you want it.”

You open your mouth to answer, but he’s already moving.

“Don’t need you to tell me,” he murmurs, straightening up with that look in his eyes—confident, dark, completely in control. “I know exactly what you need.”

You watch from the bed, breath shallow, as he reaches for the hem of his shirt and peels it off in one fluid motion. His chest is golden from the sun, stomach tight, the familiar trail of hair disappearing into his waistband making your mouth go dry.

Your thighs press together without thinking.

Then he unbuttons his trousers. Slow. Deliberate. He holds your gaze the entire time, like he knows what he’s doing to you—like he wants you to see exactly what you’ve been missing. He pushes them down along with his briefs, and the second they fall, his cock springs free—thick, flushed, heavy against his stomach.

Your breath catches.

Precum glistens at the tip, already leaking, and he wraps a hand around the base with a low sigh of relief, stroking once.

“Been hard since the bloody airport,” he mutters. “Soon as I saw you. Didn’t even make it through baggage claim without thinkin’ about bendin’ you over the nearest flat surface.”

You moan, hips shifting against the sheets.

He steps between your legs again, stroking himself lazily now, eyes raking over your body like he’s trying to decide exactly where to start.

“You ready for me, love?” he asks, voice thick, teasing. “You want this cock inside you?”

You nod, desperate. “Yes. Please, Harry.”

He leans over you, pressing the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Gonna fuck you slow,” he says, kissing your jaw, your neck, the space just beneath your ear. “Wanna feel every fuckin’ inch of you.”

Then he pushes in.

He pushes just the tip inside, then stops.

Your hands clutch at the sheets. “Harry—”

“Shh,” he murmurs against your skin, brushing his nose along your neck. “Not yet.”

He pulls out slowly, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing your entrance, your clit, everything but what you need.

“Wanna know somethin’ first,” he says, voice thick with amusement, but his hips stay steady, cruelly patient. “You never told me what your favorite part was.”

You blink, dazed. “What?”

“In those stories,” he murmurs, sucking gently at your throat. “The ones you read at night. About me. What’s your favorite part?”

You shake your head, breath catching as he presses in again—just barely—then pulls back.

“C’mon, love,” he says, his voice laced with a dark kind of sweetness. “I wanna hear you say it.”

You whimper. “I like when you talk.”

He stills, grinning against your jaw. “Yeah? When I’m filthy with you?”

You nod quickly, lips parting, breath uneven. “And when you—” You falter, heat blooming across your chest. “When you go down on her and don’t stop. When you say it’s yours.”

That breaks him.

“Jesus,” he groans, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He shifts his hips again, just enough for the head of his cock to push inside once more.

“Say it now,” he breathes. “Say you’re mine.”

Your fingers curl around his biceps, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m yours, Harry. I’m yours.”

His mouth crashes into yours again, and this time, he doesn’t hold back.

His mouth finds yours again, hot and hungry, and he sinks into you all at once—slow but deep—his cock stretching you open inch by inch until you’re full of him, breath caught in your throat. The moan you let out is pure instinct, helpless and raw, and it makes him groan right back, low in his chest like it physically knocks the air out of him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, jaw tight, buried all the way to the hilt. “You feel—Jesus, baby—you feel so fuckin’ good.”

Your fingers grip his shoulders, your legs hooking around his waist, trying to draw him in deeper even though he’s already as close as he can get. He stays there for a second, not moving, just letting you feel it—letting himself feel it.

Then he pulls back slow, almost to the tip, before thrusting in again, harder this time. Your head tips back, mouth falling open with a gasp.

“There she is,” he growls, one hand sliding up your body to wrap around your throat—not tight, just enough to hold you there, eyes on him. “That the part you like, yeah? When I fuck you like I ownyou?”

You nod, whimpering. “Yes—Harry—”

“God, I missed this pussy,” he says, hips snapping into you again. “Dreamt about it. Woke up hard on the fuckin’ tour bus thinkin’ about you spread out like this.”

He’s moving now, really moving, fucking you slow and deep but with purpose, every thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your vision blur. Your body meets him with every roll of his hips, greedy, desperate, like it’s been waiting for him just as long as your heart has.

You moan again and his lips find your ear.

“That what you wanted, baby?” he pants. “Wanted my cock stretchin’ you out just like this? Bet none of those fanfics made you feel like this.”

“N-no,” you choke out, nails digging into his back. “Nothing like this.”

“Yeah?” His pace quickens slightly, his voice going rougher. “Tell me whose it is.”

“Yours,” you breathe, eyes wide and glassy. “Yours, Harry.”

“Say it again.”

“Yours—fuck—yours.”

He leans down and kisses you hard, messy, full of tongue and teeth and heat, his hips relentless now. He’s grunting with every thrust, sweat beading at his temples, his whole body working to bring you right to the edge again.

“I can feel you squeezin’ me,” he groans. “You’re close, aren’t you? Gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes—don’t stop—don’t—”

He slips a hand between your bodies, thumb circling your clit in tight, wet strokes while he keeps fucking into you deep and fast.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, voice cracked and wild. “Come on. Let me feel it.”

And that’s all it takes.

You shatter around him with a cry, your whole body pulsing, shaking, coming hard on his cock. He fucks you through it, eyes locked on your face like he wants to remember everything.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—”

He pulls out at the last second, hand stroking himself twice before he spills all over your stomach with a groan so guttural it makes your toes curl. Thick, hot, and messy. He leans over you, breathing hard, eyes dark and wrecked, thumb brushing your cheek.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, slower now, sweeter. 

You’re still trying to catch your breath when he leans back on his heels, eyes dragging over your body—sweat-slicked, legs still trembling, his release glistening on your stomach. There’s a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it’s not just cocky. It’s hungry. Like he’s already thinking about what comes next.

“Can’t believe I spent weeks in hotel beds with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he mutters, one hand sliding up your thigh again. “When this was waitin’ for me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but then he’s dipping down again, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up your stomach. You jolt, a whimper escaping your lips as his tongue drags through his own mess.

“Harry—”

He hums, like it’s nothing. Like the taste of you—of both of you—doesn’t drive him mad.

His tongue swirls over your skin, not in a rush this time, just savoring. Teasing. His hands slide back up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before he lowers his mouth again and sucks one nipple between his lips.

You gasp, arching into him.

“You still sensitive?” he asks, voice muffled against your skin. “That why you’re shakin’ like that?”

You nod, legs twitching around him. “Y-Yeah.”

He grins against your breast, mouth moving to the other. “Good.”

He slides a hand between your legs again, fingers pressing right where you’re still dripping, still open from him.

“‘Cause I’m not finished with you yet.”

He looks up at you, eyes dark and wild, fingers circling your clit again in slow, deliberate strokes.

“You’re gonna come again, baby. Just like in those stories you read. Over and over ‘til you can’t even say my name.”

[puppysuh]

so… we all know how i feel about meanie!haechan, but what about nerd!haechan who’s never seen or touched a pussy in his life but is surprisingly really freaky?

if you’re wondering why i’m so obsessed with him, just watch a couple of clips of him from the university festival performance. those glasses… ouh get him in me NOW!

you approach him because you feel bad for him. he’s always alone, nose in a book or fingers tapping rapidly at his laptop, and whilst your girlfriends like to make fun of him for being such a loser, you’re surprisingly quite intrigued by him.

when you approach him the first time, you begin to see what your friends mean. he’s shy, his glasses falling down his nose as he avoids eye contact with you like the plague. he’s right to be cautious; what are you, the campus sweetheart, doing talking to him, the guy who’s rumoured to only shower once a week and lock himself in his room to jerk off to cheap porn?

you should be laughing in his face, ridiculing him for being such a freak of nature but no, instead you stand in front of him, voice sweet like honey whilst you twirl your hair and await his responses with bated breath. and when he finally looks up at you, into those beautiful eyes he spent so long avoiding, he’s completely gone, and he decides that he must have you.

nerd!haechan would overthink your interaction for the next week. seriously, why were you talking to him? did you like him? did you want to get to know him better? or worse… did you just want sex? that’s what most people are after nowadays anyways, so he begins to train himself up for the next time he talks to you.

instead of avoiding your group like a disease, he begins following you discreetly, taking note of everything you like. that coffee shop just opposite your dorm? he’s memorised your order. your seat in the library? he scares off anyone who tries to sit there by sitting directly opposite it, only moving when he sees you come through the door. and he’s stalked your social media too; all of your highlights are screenshotted and placed into a special album in his phone, reserved solely for you.

he also has another album, a hidden one, full of… other photos.

at first glance, it looks normal. a picture of you at the beach holding an ice cream, or another of you posing in a party dress. all standard highlight posts, posts nobody would suspect nerd!haechan would jerk off to almost every night, glasses fogged up as he memorises every curve of your body, toes curling as he focuses on the way your tongue flicks out to lick the top of the ice cream, a dribble of white cream running down your chin.

he doesn’t know how he manages to face you at school, but he does anyways, and when you finally ask him for some ‘tutoring’, he happily accepts, pushing his glasses up on his nose and trying to divert his eyes away from the cleavage displayed by your dangerously low cut top.

he’s surprised how quickly you jump on him the moment you get through the door of his apartment. you probably think you’ve caught him off guard, slamming your lips into his and grinding your hips forward against his crotch. you think you’re doing charity work, fucking the college loser so nobody else has to.

you couldn’t have been more wrong.

you see, along with his extensive jerking sessions to your instagram posts, haechan has been doing some studying, and not the academic kind. he knows how to make you feel good despite never having a chance to, and when he lifts you up against the door and presses your back flat against it, you’re nothing short of shocked.

“you thought i didn’t know?” his voice is quiet, and whilst his tone carries little to no conviction, it travels straight to your core. “i’m your little passion project, right? fucking the loser so you can feel less bad about yourself.”

before you can open your mouth to answer, he’s pushing his hips upwards into your clothed core, and any protests are replaced by a soft whine. “haechan, that’s not—”

“shut. up.” he thrusts forwards again, and the back of your head meets wood, arms wrapping around his neck as shocks of pleasure roll up your spine. “i’m not some fucking charity case.”

it’s safe to say he’s rendered you speechless. you look down at him, and where before you saw an unkempt loser, now you see someone hungry with lust, and you like it. “kiss me,” you breathe, and he complies, his mouth crashing into yours as he carries you across his living room.

you’d always wondered if he would keep his glasses on during sex, and that night, you got your answer. they slide down the bridge of his nose as his rams his cock into your cunt at a dizzying rhythm, one hand clasping your wrists together above your head, the other rubbing at your clit furiously.

“say you were wrong,” he grunts, sounding almost pained as he repeatedly bumps the tip of his cock into that spot that makes you squirm. “say i’m good, better than anyone you’ve ever had.”

“you’re s-so good!” you can barely speak— barely even breathe, not with the way his hand moves from your clit and to your throat, forcing your chin upwards to look at him. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry, haechan.”

and for the first time since you met him, he smiles a genuine smile, one that almost seems deranged, obsessive. “that’s right,” he says, “the best you’ll ever have.”

a/n : i’m so obsessed with the idea of him being borderline evil its insane. please feed me more haechan delusions guys i think i might love him 💔💔

edit : I MADE A PART 2 check it out if you love me (or nerds)

[heartz-for-de]

Married life with Bakugo? Like coming home from a bad day of heroing to his super amazing wife and stuffs!!

Husband! Katsuki x reader headcanons!

RANDOM HEADCANONS

warnings: MDNI! A FEW SPICY HEAD CANONS!!

—he cried when you walked down the isle, one of the very few times he’s cried in his life.

— he can’t stand not knowing where you are so you get like five “wya” texts every day. He just doesn’t like the idea of you being somewhere and getting hurt and him not knowing how to reach you.

—slaps your ass every time he walks by you, no matter what.

— If you’re also a pro hero? Oh he’s so damn proud to call you his wife—but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t worry. He knows you can hold your own, but he’s still deep down a little worried even if he won’t admit it.

—as it’s known he loves cooking, in fact he finds it therapeutic. But considering his job, he doesn’t always have the energy to cook every night, so coming home to a nice warm meal? Oh he might just eat you instead.

—definitely gotten bigger with age. Wider and taller, the ultimate dilf. This def feeds into a size kink.

— protective by his nature, but not controlling. He doesn’t care what you wear, but god forbid some asshole hit in you when you’re out. Highschool was a diff story tho, def matured a bit.

— cusses like a sailorrr. Could be the most mundane sentence ever and he just pulls “dick eater” out of his ass and sometimes it genuinely makes you laugh.

— is hard of hearing because of his quirk, so he tends to speak super loudly at times, and makes you repeat yourself 8000 times a day.

—lots of public events, so expect to match at every single one. He’s very big on subtly letting people know who you belong too. (Not that they don’t know, you quite literally have his last name)

—hickeys. Hickeys. Hickeys. Ever since high school, they’ve been a staple. Literally any time of the day, any where. His lips are on you like a fucking leech.

— his mother adores you, and finds it so funny to embarrass him in front of you, even after all the years you two have been together.

“Remember when I caught you two making out? Katsuki didn’t talk to me for a week—“

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?!” Lots and lots of bickering between the two always, but you learn to love it.

—hands are on you constantly, but not in a “couple waiting in line at an amusement park” way. More like a territorial way.

—speaking of hickeys and hand placement. He’s super territorial. Like if you go out? Oops some of his cologne got on your shirt, sorry.

—eye contact is huge for him, in more ways than one. You’re upset? Okay look him in the eyes and tell him what’s wrong. Yall are fucking? Oh you better hold eye contact or he’s just gonna stop everything he’s doing like the petty bitch he is.

— loves cuddling, but has terribly night mares. He’s offered sleeping in different beds, but you’d said you’d rather die before you did that.

—can’t stand when you talk bad about yourself, like will physically smoosh his hand over your mouth to get you to shut up.

— Loves giving and receiving head. Don’t get him wrong, eating you out is one of his favorite pastimes. Sometimes when he comes home from work all he wants is to bury his head in your thighs. It’s just something about seeing you on your knees all pretty and obedient for him that really gets him going.

—such a tease. He loves degrading you, but throws in some praise too. Just such a talker, loves flapping his gums all the time.

-a grunter, occasionally a raspy moan. Does not yell, or moan loudly. He finds it embarrassing. One time he whimpered and he made you promise to never bring it up.

[whateveriwant]

The 141 being freaky in bed

18+ only. GN!Reader.

I’ll be honest, most of the time I headcanon the guys as pretty vanilla in the bedroom, but I do think they have a few instances where they’ll embrace their nasty freak tendencies.

Ghost

This man is such a freak in his day to day life that, comparatively, I don’t think he’s very freaky in the bedroom

That being said, one thing he does really enjoy is degradation. Things like making you hump his boot while he yawns boredly or leaning against the headboard as you ride him, crossing his arms behind his head, tutting as he mocks, “Y’ call that puttin’ your back into it?” (But he never lets you embarrass yourself for too long before he’s flipping you onto your back to show you how to really fuck)

In a similar vein, he loves to talk to your genitals like they’re their own person, e.g. “Is this needy cunt/cock desperate for me? She’s/He’s drippin’ like she/he is. Tsk, poor thing.” Sometimes he pretends like you’re not even in the room with him – that it’s just him and your holes he can’t wait to stuff

He’s also a big fan of spit play. Whether it’s spitting on your groin as he stares you deep in the eyes or spitting in your mouth while he pries your jaw open, letting out a string of cigarette-flavored drool. He uses it almost like a stake of ownership, not unlike when someone licks their food to stop others from stealing a bite

Above all else though, he likes having control. There’s the usual things like deciding the pace, the position, and so on when you fuck, but then there’s other things he also takes upon himself. Things like carrying you to/from the bed, stripping/dressing you like a doll, bathing you, shaving you. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry.

Freak-o-meter rating: 3.8/10

Gaz

Don’t let his boy-next-door looks fool you. This man is more than capable of getting down and freaky when he wants to

For example, he’s a deviant for public sex. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the backseat of the car in a packed parking lot, in the bathroom at your family get-together, or even in the stuffy janitor’s closet at base when there’s a meeting happening right next door. For him, the riskier the sex, the better

He also loves to mark you up. Whether it’s a small love bite on your chest or a hand shaped bruise on your ass, he lives for seeing his marks on your skin. But one thing to note – those marks are for his eyes only. Don’t be going around showing them off to everyone. And also, don’t worry about them ever fading. He’ll make sure to apply new ones before the old ones can disappear

Now, some might consider this cheesy, but he really enjoys roleplaying in the bedroom. It can be as subtle as a single word huffed in your ear or it can be as extensive as a stage production – complete with costumes, props, and plot. By far, one of his favorite scenarios to play is the injured soldier being “tended to” by his slutty nurse

Building off that last point, not only is my man a bit of an actor, but he’s also a director because he loves to film you two having sex (Martin Scorsese, eat your heart out). His POV is his preferred angle to film from because it puts him right back in the moment when he watches it again, but really, any angle where he can watch you come apart on his cock is grade-A wank material for him

Freak-o-meter rating: 5.1/10

Price

I think of him almost like a sleeper cell freak. Most of the time he goes about his business very mild and vanilla, but then something will set him off and then all of a sudden he’s going full blown freak

While he is first and foremost a man of obtaining consent, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a little free use when you permit. Especially if he’s had a long day at work or if he’s just finished a tough mission, having you ready and willing to take him whenever he wants is precisely what he needs to wind down

Say it with me, folks: creampies, creampies, creampies. To him, there’s nothing better in this world than stuffing a nice tight hole full of cum. He loves to dump multiple loads in you and then have you hold it, before pushing it all out in one thick glob. Bonus points if he shoves it back in with his fingers so you can do it over and over again

One nasty habit he has is taking your cum-stained underwear with him whenever he’s away for work. So when he misses you or needs a reminder of home, he holds it up to his nose (or cock) and remembers what he’s got waiting for him. (By the time he gives them back to you, those drawers are so stiff they can stand on their own)

As you’ve probably already guessed, this man has a big scent kink. When you come home after the gym or after doing a double at work, he loves to bury his face in your chest, pits, crotch, etc. and just inhale. That natural tang of your sweat is an aphrodisiac like no other to him. It very much gives Napoleon telling Josephine not to bathe before he returns from war

Freak-o-meter rating: 6.8/10

Soap

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. This man is a capital-F Freeeeeak!

Foot fetish, ‘nuff said. He likes to admire your feet, pamper them, massage them, kiss them, put his cock between them and fuck them, etc etc. Once, when he was really down bad, he had you don a pair of strappy heels and stomp on him (best night of his life if you ask him)

As long as he can remember, he’s liked to play with his food, and the bedroom is no exception to that practice. Whether it’s feeding you sensual staples like strawberries and champagne or drizzling his cock in chocolate syrup and having you suck it off, he’s not one to shy away from mixing food with sex

However, one kink he does get a little nervous about sharing is his interest in pet play – him being the pet, that is. It’s not that he has any real shame in it, but more so he never knows how the other person will react when he brings it up. If that is something that interests you though, he’ll be absolutely thrilled. There’s nothing he’d like more than to be led around on a leash by you. (And might I say, he looks great on his knees)

But by far, without a doubt the number one thing that gets his rocks off is group sex. There’s just something about getting to share in multiple people’s pleasure simultaneously that excites him beyond comparison. So whether it’s cucking, partner swapping, an orgy, etc. he’s down for it. He’s truly the inspiration for the phrase “guys literally only want one thing and it’s fucking disgusting”

Freak-o-meter rating: 9.99999/10

[fairestwriting]

I was wondering if I can request a Savannaclaw with a reader who is feels very cold one day like they are just sitting there shivering because they think they are ok (sorry I’m bad at explaining stuff and I’m awkward :])

dw you explained this really well!! i hope you like it <3 post sponsored by It’s been slightly chilly where i live and ahhhhh hhh so freezing …..

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Leona was raised in the savannah, so yes, he doesn’t really get along with the cold. As soon as autumn starts, he’s grumbling about how awful the weather is that day. How glad he is that Savanaclaw stays at reasonable temperatures all year long, really, he doesn’t get how anyone could even enjoy this kind of weather—

”What’s so good about this damn snow, people look like stupid kids getting excited over it…” He’s ranting absentmindedly as you walk together when he glances at you, and sees how you’ve been shivering through every step. Leona’s look twists from mildly annoyed to actually kind of disturbed.

”Herbivore, did you forget your coat or something?” …Immediately, he pretty much forgets about his own complaints. Has he ever even seen anyone shaking this hard? And you expect him to just believe you’re fine? Did you freeze your brain off during this walk? He’s not having any of that, no way.

If you just keep insisting don’t even need an extra scarf, he’ll just decide that you know what, there’s no reason for either of you to be out in this hell weather— Keeping you closer to him than usual during the walk back to Savanaclaw. Where he, of course, will deny any claims of him getting worried over a small thing, and/or that he was cold himself and just wanted an excuse to go back to his room.

𐙚 Ruggie Bucchi

Like Leona, Ruggie also dislikes cold weather, he just expresses it differently. Less straight up cursing the general existence of winter, more laughing about how he’s freezing his ass off. He doesn’t comment on it as much either, because thinking about it just makes you feel even colder.

He does see a kind of aesthetic appeal in the snow, though. “I mean, who doesn’t? Leona-san doesn’t count, he just complains because he’s cranky about being cold.” He tells you when he’s explaining why he’s invited you to come to the courtyard with him to look at the first snowflakes to fall that year— Then he turns to you and you look like you’re straight up vibrating, and he’s actually horrified.

”Wha… What do you mean you’re fine? Are you crazy?” He’s even more wide eyed when you give him your response, are you seriously this stubborn? Isn’t this a hypothermia symptom? Ruggie scrambles to get his second jacket off himself and onto you. He’s freezing even before it’s no longer on his body, but that’s not his main concern right now. You’re getting dragged out of that courtyard.

…Ruggie has picked up on a few things from classmates who are familiar with snowy winters, yeah. And it just so happens that some of the stories might’ve been a little exaggerated. He insists you keep his jacket even after he calms down, then ends up getting a cold from the whole situation. Yeah, pretty embarrassing. Still better than risking you getting hypothermia, though, he’ll always say whenever you bring this story up.

𐙚 Jack Howl

The fact that you’re dating Jack itself prevents this scenario from taking place, honestly. Because if you’re together, then he has plans of introducing you to his family. And if he has those plans, he’ll make a point of gifting you a very nice, very warm winter coat for you to wear the day on the day of your trip.

That, and he’s actually knowledgeable on the dangers of cold weather and the signs of hypothermia. And the fact that he’s kind of built for colder weather in the first place means he’s actually pretty energetic during the winter. ”It’s getting colder soon, so don’t forget to bring your jacket to class.” That’s the text you wake up to, sent at five in the morning, the exact day before the winter solstice.

You also hear it often, it might not feel too cold now, but it will later, he explains as he reminds you once again. Even if you also come from a place with colder weather— So, if he meets you for lunch and you’re shivering in place, it’s either because your clothes aren’t keeping you warm enough, which Jack is constantly trying to prevent, or you could be sick.

And it’s not going to make him straight up freak out, but he already regularly fusses over you, so he’s just going to do it more. ”If you’re shivering like that, you can’t be fine. Were you feeling unwell earlier? You know it’s not a good idea to go out in the cold, if you do…” He’s already dragging you to a warmer area where he can get you a hot drink, asking you if you felt off at all today, and giving you his jacket — all three at once, and that drink is firmly in your hands very quickly too.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[savyindeepspace]

Dangerous Game🍎♟️

Tags: Fem reader x Colonel Caleb, smut, teasing, office sex, dom Caleb, praise, aftercare, body worship

Description: sending Caleb lewd messages can only go so far. He’ll play along until your face to face, then he’s in charge.

*MDNI* 🔞

—————————————————————————————

You🌸: [image 01]

Hi baby 😘

Caleb🍎: typing…

Pips…I’m in a meeting…

You🌸: [image 02]

But I miss you 😢

Caleb🍎: typing…

Be at the Fleet Headquarters in an hour.

A smile pulled at the corners of your mouth. You knew Caleb would submit, he always does. However, he’s never asked you to come to the Fleet directly. The Colonel would normally halt any objectives for the day and rush home to you. Something about seeing him in that position of power sent a shiver of excitement through you. He had a surplus of uniforms in his closet so that he was always prepared for last minute assignments. You took in upon yourself to wear only his jacket and hat. Leaving nothing to the imagination, your nude body was framed by the dark, navy fabric. When he checked his phone under the conference table, the droning voice of his commander became muffled static. The way you angled your camera gave him a wide view. Supple skin, full breasts, your long legs and what was between them, all too far from his reach. A droplet of sweat rolled down the back of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed dryly. Caleb crossed his legs, hiding the aching bulge that fought against the confines of his pants. Sitting through the remainder of this 55 minute meeting was going to be pure hell. You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more delighted, taking your time to get ready. Using his favorite body wash, lotion and perfume, slowly gliding apple flavored gloss across your full lips; every step of your little plan was done meticulously. Caleb always worshipped the ground you walked on, giving in to your every desire, but you hoped to see a different side of him today when you arrived at his office. You wanted to see The Colonel.

•••

When you arrived at the FSF headquarters, Liam—Caleb’s adjutant, greeted you. “It’s not often you visit…must be something urgent,” he said. You feigned innocence, your voice almost too sultry, “yes, something like that.” The long, dark halls stretched for what felt like miles before you eventually reached your destination. “I’ll..uh, leave you to it,” Liam murmured before swiftly returning to his duties. You raised your closed fist to knock, but Caleb’s voice hummed through the steel door, “it’s open.” Emerging in the dimly lit room, you approached him from behind, resting your hands over his eyes, “afternoon, Colonel.” His gloved hands took hold of your wrists as he slid your makeshift blindfold away from his face. Caleb turned to look at you, amethyst eyes roaming from head to toe. He drank in the sight of you, the color of your dress, how short it was, your intoxicating scent. You even wore your hair just how he liked it—long and down your back. “You look stunning,” he hymned, kissing the back of your hand. A soft hum followed his words as you sat in his lap. He looked exhausted. His gaze was drowsy and lips were chapped, but you ran your thumb over them in admiration anyway. Caleb works too hard, you thought. His mind was always clouded with so much pain, guilt and regret; you just wanted to take it away—even for a moment. His hands rested on your hips, and you played with his soft brown hair. You enjoyed each other’s presence for a few quiet minutes before he spoke, “what’s gotten in to you, Pips?,” his arms tightened around your waist. “I–just wanted to make you feel better…you’ve been too hard on yourself–too distant from me,” you replied, sweeping his bangs away from his brow. Caleb shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, heat radiated off him and the thick layers of his uniform stuck to his skin. “That doesn’t mean you should send me stuff like that…if we get caught—,” “so what? The Fleet would be lost without you. Just focus on me right now…,” you interjected, grazing his reddened ear with your lips.

•••

Caleb’s breath hitched, a shallow gasp broke from his throat. “Fine…,” he stood, setting you on top of his desk. You watched him slowly walk to the door and turn the lock, the satisfying click echoed in the room. He approached you, his expression was stern yet something about his eyes proved he was just as willing to take the risk. The coolness of his leather gloves sent a chill down your spine as his hands splayed over your thighs. “You’ve played your little game long enough, on your knees, now.” His voice was firm, deep, warm breath heating the exposed skin of your neck. Your eyes stayed on him as you slid off his desk. The Colonel stopped you briefly, gently holding your chin, “for your knees,” he whispered, folding his uniform jacket and placing it at your feet. As you lowered to the floor, Caleb worked at his belt, then the button of his pants, his zipper. Your mouth watered in anticipation, eyes lidded with lust. “Remember, no touching until I say so,” he instructed. You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him. “What was that?,” “y-yes sir…,” “good girl.” His hand smoothed over his groin and he moaned, slightly tilting his head back. You bit your bottom lip, patiently waiting for your turn to touch him, taste him and hopefully feel him inside you. “Look at what you did, sending those pictures…making me hard during a meeting,” he reprimanded, pulling his cock free and holding it firmly at the base. He stroked himself slowly, your pupils dilated at the bead of precum leaking from the tip. “You want it don’t you?” He teased, running a thumb through the clear essence. Your eyes shimmered, begging silently for a taste.

“Open.” Your jaw fell slack, revealing your moist, pink tongue at his command. Caleb pressed his thumb against it, leaving traces of leather and salt on your tastebuds. His body shuddered when you wrapped your lips around the single digit, it popped loudly as he pulled it from your mouth. “…please,” you panted, hands running up his thighs. He gently pet your hair, “so polite…,” your sweet voice was melting his resolve, gnawing at his strength. He held the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, “go ahead.” You pursed your lips along his length, humming with every kiss. The light vibrations made Caleb’s fingers tangle in your hair, gripping gently at the roots. “Fuck—,” he cursed under his breath, your lips were so soft and warm as they feathered over his cock. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, “you wanna stroke it for me, sweet girl?,”

“mhmmm..”

“Good…now–,” he choked as you gripped him, fluidly pumping with two hands. You took him into your mouth, eyes rolling back as his inches filled your throat. He guided your head with one hand, while the other dug into his office chair, knuckles almost tearing through his skin. Caleb tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool his rapidly heating body. Your movements only grew faster, messier, plummeting him into release, “S-stop.” His eyes were squeezed tight and breaths ragged, he couldn’t let go, not yet at least.

•••

Caleb tucked his hands under your armpits, hoisting you up from the floor. He pulled your body into his and leaned down to kiss you. He moaned into your mouth, tongue ghosting your bottom lip, tasting your sweet gloss. “Mm apple? You know me so well,” he purred, fingers curling into the hem of your dress. Your hands traveled down his waist in an attempt to grope his cock. He quickly caught your wrist, “what did I say about touching?” A whine emanated from your lips, “n-not to…but—,” “no buts, turn around.” You obeyed, back facing him, heart pounding behind your ribs. The Colonel sank his palm into the small of your back, “now bend over, slowly.” As you leaned over, pressing your torso to the glass top desk, you felt Caleb’s hand slither beneath your dress. Your breath hitched when his fingers rubbed over your ruined panties. “Such a bad girl, you’re already soaking wet…tsk.” The lacy fabric descended down your legs, leaving your needy pussy on full display. “So pretty…,” he praised, his breath warming your flesh. “C-Caleb, please…,” you whimpered impatiently. Smack, a harsh spank swiped across your ass, leaving your skin flushed and stinging. “It’s Colonel, remember?,” he corrected, rubbing the warm handprint he left behind. “Haah—yes sir…” He hummed with approval, pursing kisses up the backs of your thighs. His nose nuzzled into your heat, tongue separating your folds. Caleb braced his hands on your rear and spread you open even more. He enclosed his mouth around your clit and filled you effortlessly with two fingers, “mmm I love how ready she always is for me,” he growled, languidly pumping into your core. You sank your teeth into your forearm in an attempt to muffle the noises that fell from your mouth. The sharp pinch of your canines made goosebumps bloom all over your body. Your legs trembled and nerves buzzed with every suck and drag of The Colonel’s tongue. Tears welled in your eyes and your gut twisted, a blend of pleasure and agony.

•••

Leaving your nerves, wrecked, rattling and burning from stimulation, Caleb finally pulled his mouth away. You sighed with relief, slightly collapsing against the desk. He fisted your hair in to a ponytail and lightly tugged your head back, lowering his lips to whisper in your ear, “You want me to fuck you now, baby?” You nodded frantically, pushing your ass into his waist. Smack, another spank, not to scold—but arouse. You mewled loudly, “p-please…C-Colonel.” The head of his cock slid through your folds, “I love it when you beg.” A sharp gasp caught in your throat as he pushed inside you, his fingers digging into your hips. “Fuck—you’re so tight,” he rasped, his jaw clenching from the hold your walls had on him. He deliberately rolled his hips, sending ripples through your ass. “Mmm—yes, yes…,” you keened, vision blurring from his constant, heavy thrusts. A sudden murmur of voices echoed in the hallway, prompting Caleb to cover your mouth. The only thing you could hear was your shallows breaths and the footsteps that eventually descended into the distance. “If you can’t be quiet, bite my hand okay?,” his voice was gentle and low. You nodded, kissing his palm. The thrill of possibly getting caught made arousal run down your thighs. His weight pressed firmly against your back, lips dotting kisses down your neck and shoulder. Caleb pulled his cock out to the tip before shoving himself to the base. You yelped, sinking your teeth into his gloved hand, making him hiss through gritted teeth. “I want you to cum for me, can you do that, beautiful?,” he soothed, his husky voice pouring over your eardrums like warm, rolling fog. “M-mhmmmmm…,” your body was begging for release, insides ripping apart the closer you approached orgasm. The Colonel rubbed messy circles on your clit, mumbling praises in your ear as you fell apart. “Mhmm, I know baby. I know you feel so full right now. Taking. Every. Inch like a good girl. You deserve to cum all over my cock.” Your jaw tightened, almost puncturing a hole through Caleb’s glove. His thrusts slammed into you and with one final shove, you finally let go. You moaned into his palm, your voice raw yet angelic. A mess of arousal trickled down his abdomen, dripping on the floor from where your bodies connected.

•••

You fluttered around his length, chest heaving against the desk. Every pulse of your walls sent lightening through Caleb’s frame and that alone was enough to make him falter. His warm essence mixed with yours as he spilled himself inside you. He grunted, the sound was primal, guttural. His rigid muscles softened and he held his weight to avoid crushing you beneath it. The sensation of his warm lips pressing on your dewy skin elicited a soft moan. “So good for me..,” kiss “so perfect…” kiss “thank you baby.” Your heart swelled from his sweet words, you turned over to face him, cupping his rosy cheek. He kissed you, slowly, reverently, the worship returning in his touch. Caleb knelt before you, pursing his lips up your legs as he put your panties back in place. He straightened his uniform and pulled your dress down before combing the tangles from your hair with his fingers. “I’ll walk you to the exit, Liam can take you back to my place.” “Okay..” Your fingers laced together as you walked to the flight deck, Caleb pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, “see you when I get home, Pips.”

You nod and begin to turn away when the grip on your wrist tightened, “but just so you know…I’m not done with you yet.” You bit your lip, looking into his violet eyes, “promise?”

“Promise.”

*~*~*~*~

End.

Writer’s Note: thank you so much for reading!:) Please do not steal or repost. More LADS Fics are pinned on my profile.

[shaunapenguin]

Natalie Scatorccio taking your virginity HCS

(Masterlist)

- When you told her you were ready to have sex, Nat was desperate to make it perfect for you

- She remembered her first time sucked, and she refused to let that be your experience too

- Makes sure her mom is out of the trailer doing god knows what before inviting you round

- Wishes she had a better room but you don’t mind

- Buys a single rose for you and hopes you don’t find her romantic gesture corny

- If her friends knew the effort she was going to, she knew she’d never stop being made fun of

- Wears the best set of underwear she has, which is red and lacy

- Starts making out with you and slowly undressing you

- She undresses herself too, not wanting there to be an imbalance

- When you’re finally down to your underwear, you feel a bit timid

- Natalie, who has never been so focused in her life, notices of course and is quick to compliment you

- She feels so honored and lucky to be the one to take your virginity 

- Wants to take her time with you

- Kisses are laid across your torso and down to just above your waist

- Rubs lazy circles on your clit over your panties for a few seconds and then removes her hand

- Can’t help but grin mischievously at your reaction

- This was your first time being touched like this by someone, so your reactions are much stronger and desperate

- Is the great type of girlfriend that keeps checking in to make sure you're okay

- Amazing at communication and thinks it's important when it comes to something like this

- Waits for permission before unhooking your bra and pulling down your underwear

- Spends like 10 minutes giving love to your breasts

- She pays a lot of attention to the noises you make when she does something specific, gauging to see what you like and don't like

- Nat starts with your clit, moving her thumb in slow circles, and then an up-down motion, wanting to get you as wet as possible before she fingered you

- Uses 1 finger at first, trying to watch your face but eventually can't resist watching your hole take her 

- Swears to god this is one of the best moments of her life

- After a while, she picks up the pace and adds another finger

- Praises you and says things like: “That’s it, you’re doing so good for me,”

- Is relieved that her mom isn’t home as your moans grow louder

- Nat gets off on making other people get off, so she helplessly grinds against nothing, aching for some kind of satisfaction

- When you’re close to coming, she leans down and sucks on your clit

- You come as soon as her lips make contact with it, the feeling so intense that Nat has to hold your hips down from so much moving with her free hand

- Her tongue journeys further down, lapping up your cum

- Eventually you push her head away, feeling too sensitive and tired

- Nat is so turned on and you don’t want to be someone who doesn’t return the favor, but you’re too exhausted to do much

- A light bulb goes off in your head and you encourage her to grind against your thigh

- Nat does so, her grunts and wetness against your thigh making you feel like you could go a second round

- When she comes, which is quite quickly, she collapses against you, breathing right next to your ear

- She kisses your cheek and jaw, not caring about any sweat accumulated there

- “Was it good?”

- “It was the best. In fact…”

- You take hold of her hand and drag it back to where she last touched you

- “Can we do it again?”

[nghtwngs]

how about a bob x reader fic where reader is the receptionist for the new avengers?

scott and zelda

description. sweet bob reynolds has been avoiding you and your daily lobby chats for days now. were your book recommendations that terrible? and then you realize the mistake you’ve made that has had poor bob unable to face you these last few days…

pairing. robert “bob” reynolds x receptionist!reader

genre. fluff, idiots friends to lovers, canon compliant

word count. 1.7k

warnings. set during the post-thunderbolts* timeskip, suggestive themes, allusions to smut, reader on the verge of crashing out at work

author’s notes. named after the newly released bibi (aka my wife) song, which you can listen to while reading! and if you read the lyrics, you’ll understand why i chose it. i managed to keep the reader gender neutral too :) also this was so fun to write so thank u for requesting nonnie!!!

“Hello, you have reached the Avengers’ Watchtower,” you begin in your nicest customer service tone. “How may I assist you?” After a few beats. “I’m sorry. Unfortunately, Congressman Barnes is not available at this number. If you would like to discuss… to send your inquiries to him, you may reach him at his office’s number or email, both of which I can provide for you.” You suppress a long sigh, fingertips typing away at your keyboard. “Which contact info would you like?”

After placing the phone back into its receiver, you finally allow yourself to face plant into the desk when you hear your name.

“Congressman Barnes,” you greet him in a professional voice that makes him grimace, “what a coincidence. I was just on the phone with a woman who was wondering how much she could donate to your next campaign in exchange for spending the night with her…. among other things.” You’re really hoping your face relays the trauma you had just experienced to him.

You think it does because a flicker of disgust appears on Bucky’s face as he asks, “What did you say?”

“Oh, I directed her to your office’s number. She was happy to take it.”

“Jesus,” he mumbles. “I think my job sucks sometimes, and then I remember the things you’re put through down here.”

“Gotta love it, yeah.” You press your lips together, fiddling with your Pilot G2 pen while you work up the courage to ask him, “Have you, um, seen Bob lately perchance?”

He nods and answers, “Yeah, like, whenever I’m here. Which is also everyday. Because he lives here.”

There’s a pointed look on his face that you’d rather not unpack right now. You’re just curious, is all. Bob usually comes down to the lobby to visit you whenever you’re working, but after you recommended him that book four mornings ago, he’s been radio silent. Maybe it was a terrible read, and he’s just been trying to figure out how to tell you he hated it. In a nice way.

“Well, it feels like he doesn’t.” You nearly pout at the man. “I haven’t seen him since Monday.”

“Again, he lives here. You could call him, I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll answer if it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just means he’ll answer. Call him.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Then don’t. It’s not my problem, kid.”

“You do know I’m thirty, right?”

“Well, I’m a hundred and nine, kid,” he retorts, heading for the elevator.

“You been hitting on any of the nursing home ladies that like to come around then, Bucky?” You snicker at him and wave, watching him roll his eyes as the doors shut.

The next few hours in the Watchtower’s lobby are just as boring as the last few, with surprisingly few people coming in and out. Although a couple of people do come in to ask if there’s a restroom.

“It’s down the hallway on your left,” you tell the old lady kindly, pointing your finger in that direction. You’re technically not supposed to let random people use the toilet here, for Ms. de Fontaine’s worry that ‘vagrants’ will linger, but that’s better than them pissing in the streets. When the lady disappears, you make a mental note to tell Bucky he’s just missed his shot with this hot, elderly woman. You can’t help but snicker at your own humor.

That was the only time you laughed for the past three hours, you realize. Normally, you’d be giggling or snorting at some silly joke Bob makes. But of course, he’s not here and hasn’t been since the beginning of the week. You had forgotten how boring working at reception was because he had always come to cure it.

Sure, the new Avengers, like Bucky, would chat with you for a minute or so. Or if you were Alexei, ten to fifteen minutes. Yelena has warmed up a little while Ava remains curt still. John is still as well but also a major asshole, according to Bob, so you generally don’t try small talk with him. Bob was the only one who ever stayed around, trying to cure his own boredom. And eventually, you became good friends.

The job had been a surprisingly chill gig, meaning they really only needed one person in the lobby to handle simple tasks like answering the phone or giving directions. Sometimes, you even got to schedule a meeting or two, which used to be the highlight of your days when you first started out.

You groan to yourself, propping up your hand to rest your chin on. Despite your very tiny developing work(?) (Does it count as a work crush if you technically don’t work with him?) crush on Bob, you just missed his company. He had been so quiet at first, and then you found out you shared a mutual interest in books. Did you really just admit your crush? You couldn’t even say the words out loud to your other friends, much less yourself. You huff out a sad little breath of air, eyes looking around for any stimulus when you remember you left the book you were rereading in your bag. Sat at your feet, you open the bag to grab the novel.

It’s the book you recommended to Bob days earlier, and the only reason you can think of as to why he’s been avoiding you lately. Did you really have that bad of a taste in books? He liked your other recommendation… Oh, but maybe he actually hated it and was trying to spare your feelings. And now, since you gave him another atrocious book to read, he realized he could no longer be friends with someone who only reads awful books.

If, right now, you were at home in your cozy bed, you’d be screaming into your pillow.

Seeing as the lobby is pretty much empty, you crack open your novel to where you left off. This book is very dear to you, considering this is your third time rereading it (this year) and that it’s only May. So it meant a lot when you recommended it to Bob. But maybe you just love shitty books—this one had four and a half stars on StoryGraph though!

‘Won’t you place a bookmark inside of me?’ is the first line you read on the page, and the wheels on your chair loudly screech when you suddenly rise. Laughing nervously when you receive a few looks from around the room, you sit back down with the book you just aggressively shut. Now, you think you’ll call Bucky to fling you into space from the Watchtower’s roof.

In your excitement at recommending Bob a new novel to add to his reading list, you totally forgot about the book-related innuendos and rather graphic sex scenes that were scattered throughout the book. Oh, God, he must think you’re some pervert! No wonder he’s been avoiding you. Or maybe he thought you were trying to hit on him, and now he can’t figure out a way to gently let you down.

Reluctantly, you open the book back up to see just how bad the damage was.

‘Would you wet your finger for me? Would you pinch me?’

‘Would you fold me freely? Would you keep me overdue?’

You close the novel before you see anything else that would make you somehow feel more embarrassed than you already do now. But before you even get the chance to stew in your embarrassment, you hear the voice you’ve been longing to hear for days.

“Is everything okay?” Bob asks with some concern from the other side of your desk.

You sit up stick straight, blinking at him like an idiot. “Bob, hey—hi.”

“Hi.”

It’s not for another five full seconds that you realize you didn’t answer his question at all before blubbering, “Yeah! I’m… I’m alright. Are you? Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

Bob smiles awkwardly, nodding. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry about that, by the way. I read that book you—“

“God, I am so, so sorry I recommended it to you. I totally forgot about the…”

At your words, a confused frown forms on his face. “About what?”

“The sexual stuff…” you finish quietly.

The recognition takes over his features now. “Oh, that.”

“I’m really sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m a… pervert or something… I really do think the story is good.”

“It is,” he agrees, much to your surprise. “I liked it, but I’ll admit I was surprised by the… other stuff. Suppose I never really had you pegged as the type to read such… dirty books. And then it got me thinking…” He pauses, quieting his voice a little more. “Do you like being folded freely too?”

His question throws you off, not because of the filthiness of it, but how innocent he makes it sound. Like he’s asking you about the weather. But the weather is never really about the weather, is it?

Bob continues like he didn’t just flip your entire world on its axis, “I went and bought the book right after I left you that day. And I haven’t been down here to see you since then because I didn’t know if I could be normal around you when I couldn’t stop thinking about whether or not you liked getting fucked the same way that character in the book does.”

“Does it matter to you?” you ask once you’ve managed to find your voice somewhere in the mush that’s currently your brain.

He shakes his head at you. “No, but it would be very helpful to know.”

You shoot up from your chair for the second time that shift, making such quick haste around the desk that even he’s surprised. You’re then making some poor excuse to the security guard Lenny about showing Bob around the new downstairs renovations, an excuse that would easily fall apart if thought about for longer than two moments. But you’re already strutting towards a random, unused office space where you sometimes take your breaks, dress shoes clicking against the tiled floors, and expecting him to follow.

Bob does, of course, silently thanking Bucky for pushing him in the right direction this morning.