#how much time was spent on doing stuff like. positioning the camera or phone. did they get a real camera for that.

[dailypokemoncrochet]

Ask inspired by your post about all the hidden details and interactive parts on your crochets... do you think it would be possible to record video clips of some of these details? Rotating the crochets and moving any of the dynamic elements like wheels and such? I think it could be fun to see them in motion even if we can't physically hold them! Your eiscue is one of my fav crochets of all time due to the attention you put in to the head. ^^

Good ask! It's on my list of things I will possibly do but not a priority.

I am averse to taking videos of my crochets because I hate how for me the bare minimum video would be something like the Duskull one, which even though the video itself is 15 seconds long, I spent much longer taking the video itself, removing the audio, rendering it, uploading it. That's a lot of dumb work I don't like to do, and it would take even longer if I did that for even just my fun crochets because of how I'd be showing off the really cool details.

I do think it'd be fun for y'all to see, but using Eiscue as a specific example, it would take more time and editing than I care to do for a 30 second max video. Eiscue's ice cube head comes off yeah, but it's not cleanly and prettily, takes a bit of smushing because of the snug fit, and then I got to fish the little hair back up out through the stitches to show up top. I don't really want to take a video showing me struggling with all that, and I don't really want to edit those parts of video out because that's kind of the point of the video to show those details. Idk it just wouldn't be as fun to do for a little clip as it would be in real life if I were the one having to film and edit it.

[jazminrhode1]

Love your writing! Can I request something for Matt based on the redecorating Matt’s room prank? Like reader helps with the prank? If not, no problem, love your account

Thanks For Watching Sturniolo Triplets x Reader One Shot

Summary: You help the boys prank Matt’s room for a video.

Notes: Swearing (minimal)

“Matt?” you call out as you walk down the hall toward his room. He wasn’t supposed to be there. You had come over to help Nick and Chris with a room prank. His room was empty, the coast was clear, except for their fucking washing machine.

You make your way upstairs to Nick’s room where he and Chris were waiting for you. “Finally,” Chris said when you walked in. “Y/n’s here,” Nick said to the camera, “it’s time to prank Matt’s room.”

“Most of the stuff’s in my car,” you said. You were way more excited than you let on. You had spent weeks getting customised items to completely re-do his bedroom. He was gone for another fake meeting with Laura but, you only had a small window to pull it off.

As you started opening the boxes that you had brought up to Matt’s room, Nick and Chris were acting like two kids at Christmas. They didn’t know just how much stuff you ended up getting and they didn’t know half of it would be custom.

The plan was to cover the room with pictures of Nick and Chris but, you went a little overboard. You had customised bedsheets, pillow cases and a blanket with their faces on it. You also got t-shirts printed with pictures that you found on their joint instagram. There was a huge canvas you hand made with a family picture from when they were little and a stack of photographs to stick on the wall if you found the time.

Nick made the bed, Chris cleared the closet and you started sticking pictures on the wall. 

“What’s wrapped in the sheet?” Chris asked when he came back from hiding Matt’s clothes in his room.

That was what you were most excited about and worried that you might not pull off. Chris got excited when he saw the thrill in your eyes. “Close your eyes,” you told them as you unwrapped the surprise.

When they opened their eyes they were face-to-face with two life sized cardboard cutouts of themselves. Nick screamed and Chris fell on the floor laughing. “You are fucking kidding,” he said.

“Matt is going to have a heart attack,” Nick said as he took a snap and sent it to Madi.

“I’m keeping mine,” Chris said, looking it up and down.

“Come on, Matt’s going to be back soon,” you said as you finished sticking the pictures on the walls.

Nick had used a few to replace the ones in Matt’s picture frames. The only one he left was the one that Matt kept of you and him on his desk.

“This room is something straight out of a nightmare,” you said as you looked around. “This is fucking great,” Chris exclaimed in excitement.

“Are we done?” Nick asked as he closed the last picture frame. “I think we are,” Chris said as he sat on the bed.

The room was a complete disaster. Everything had gone to plan.

Pictures of Nick and Chris’ faces were on the bedding, on the pillows, on the blanket, on the walls, on his t-shirts in his closet, and in his picture frames. There was not an inch of his room not covered in pictures of his brothers. The thought of this was a lot funnier than the final product.

You heard the front door close just as Nick picked up the camera. Chris got in position with his phone, he could barely contain his excitement. You could hear Matt calling out for Nick and Chris, you swore he started heading upstairs. After a few minutes, his shoes cast a shadow beneath the door and you saw the handle turn.

He jumped when he opened the door. You weren’t sure if it was because you were all in there or because of the monstrosity you had created.

“What the-?” Matt said in shock quickly followed by, “Hey y/n.” He stepped into the room and pulled you into a hug. As he scanned the room, the pictures on the wall, the life-size cut-outs of his brother, he kept his arm draped around your shoulders. 

“Did you help with this?” he asked you. “Sorry,” you replied.

“The pillows,” he noticed, pointing. “Oh my god you’re on the sheets,” he exclaimed.

“Do you love it?” Chris asked, mockingly.

“I can’t tell is this is awesome or a nightmare,” he replied as his eyes darted around the room.

Nick started laughing. “Look in your closet,” he instructed.

Matt’s face dropped, “No…” he said as he slowly slid the doors open.

When he saw all his clothes were gone and replaced with t-shirts that had his brother's faces on them, he said, “You guys are not real.”

“What do you think?” Nick asked, shoving a camera in Matt’s face. “Is this better than the Liam Neeson prank?” Chris asked.

Matt was still taking it all in when he said, “Fuck no! The other prank was funny. How am I supposed to sleep here? I’m gonna have nightmares.”

Chris burst out laughing. This was the exact reaction that he was hoping for. “Blame y/n,” he said, “she got all this stuff.”

You took a few steps back from Matt when he turned his head to you, “it was Nick’s idea” you said. Nick didn’t care. This was the content he was looking for.

“Is anyone going to help me take this shit down?” Matt asked as he pulled a picture off the wall. 

“Nope,” Chris replied as he picked up his cardboard cut-out. “They’ll fall off eventually,” Nick said. They both started walking toward the door but, Matt rushed over and held it shut with one arm.

“Let us out,” Chris demanded. Matt was not going to budge. “Let me out,” Chris threatened. “Or what?” Matt replied.

Chris took his cardboard cut out and started swatting at Matt. Matt started swinging back, grabbing Chris’s cardboard head and ripping it off his body.

With the pair of them fighting in the background, Nick said to the camera, “Thanks for watching, we’ll see you all next time,” before he ended the vlog.

It wasn't often that you got to do stuff like with the boys but, man was it fun.

[spicyclover]

Moral of the Story

Summary: The story of your breakup.

Hope you’ll enjoy it. Let me know in the comment section.

Thank you! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Do you remember when we painted your house like my grandparents did?

I spent two and a half years with a man I loved so much. For several months, you offered me to move in with you and one day, I took my courage with both hands, and I said: "Ok, I’m coming."

I'm foolish...

We had a long-distance relationship, and I visited you two weeks before giving my notice to my landlord. We made love, we said words of love, and the next day, I received an email of ten lines. With spelling mistakes on every line. Which you told me that you no longer wanted to live with me but that you no longer wanted to continue this relationship with me.

The next day, you emailed me again. What a literary man for someone who is dyslexic. You said you were eager to see me again and evoke memories together while laughing. I do have a good sense of humour...

"Do you remember when you told me you wanted kids with me? And three weeks later, you left me by email. Wasn't it funny?"

You left me a good month in sadness before I received, in utter nothingness, a call from you. My heart capsized, and I had a glimmer of hope in my eyes. I felt my tears weren’t in vain, and you realized we were right. Your eyes opened one morning, and the empty side of the bed seemed unbearable to you. My absence at your side seemed impossible, so you had to contact me. What a disappointment when you asked me to come and pick up the unfortunate stuff that I had the misfortune of leaving behind.

My voice broke, and I hung up. I wasn’t able to get out of my house that day. I stayed stuck in my duvet to listen and re-listen to videos of us. Your memory makes me cry. I can't accept this new reality. The man I loved no longer loves me.

It’s tough for me to stay positive in this period. Nothing amuses me, nothing makes me laugh, nothing exciting for me. I'm empty, empty of love, empty of joy, empty of you.

"I miss him a lot," I told my best friend on the phone. "I miss our privacy. Enormously. It’s physical as well as psychological. I miss sex a lot. I miss hugs a lot. I miss kissing a lot. I miss falling asleep next to him at night." My voice breaks, and I hold my tears. "Waking up to his caresses and kisses. It’s really hard..."

My stomach hurts. It burns my skin. It hurts my heart. I'm afraid that everything I've accomplished for myself will disappear with you. Never in my life have I imagined being dependent on someone, yet every time I take the time to think, you are the first person that comes to mind. I feel trapped in your imprint, the mark you made on my life and my heart. I get up every morning, hoping to see you walk through the door, even after a month.

It made me realize that no one on this planet loves me for who I am.

At the beginning of this ordeal, I saw that you had already found comfort in the arms of another girl. You were parading her in front of the cameras like our breakup didn’t even happen, like I never happened. It put the knife in the gaping wound of my heart.

Were we just a playdate?

Is this the moral of my story?

"Young people fall in love. With the wrong people, sometimes."

Were you just a mistake?

Well Esteban, this letter is for you. Written in my tears and sadness. I'm done crying over you. It's been six months and I'm ready to live again. I hope you'll treat her better, because it's funny how a memory turns into a bad dream...

Blindsided.

With hates,

Y/n.

[sageafk]

Bingo: virus, marriage, mechanical keyboard

enjoy some blatant fem dnf pre-Florida 

---

It’s entirely too late, or maybe it’s too early—there’s a haze in the sky that's evident of pre-dawn, but she knows neither of them have slept yet. It’s been difficult to manage time passing, rather than meals and sleeping periods being the markers for days, they’re whenever Claire leaves the call. Ever since Grace’s visa was declined, Claire hasn’t left her alone. The discord logo lights up her monitors with a number nearing the triple digits, steadily increasing. 

It’s been harder than ever, recently. Moving in with your best friend is supposed to be easy, regardless of the thousands of miles stretched between them. But then there were applications and denials and Covid and now Grace just wants to cry. 

It was at the tip of her fingers. Claire was just one touch away. Now, ripped apart, she feels like a shell of who she was. 

Her desk is littered with papers, things she had printed out from her mom’s shoddy printer in the back room. There are a lot of bolded words that talk about do’s and don’t’s of things she had thought she’d followed but apparently not. The most recent denial letter sits on her second monitor, coating her face in a red shine that she’d never want to share in the company of Claire. 

“I just don’t get it,” falls from her lips. She’s not sure when the last time her face changed. So far from the happy girl that Claire knows her as. Grace just doesn’t know what to do. She wants to give up. 

She wants to give up.

“I thought I did everything right. I don’t understand where I went wrong.”

“Sometimes they do that, G,” Claire mumbles, her mouth obscured by her hand. Grace wants to give up but how could she when she knows every single mannerism, every moment of the other even when she doesn’t have her camera on? “They’re, like, I don’t know, picky? They want to be careful of who they let into the country.”

“It’s dumb.” Grace feels her eyes dampen and she rolls them so hard they hurt. She’s spent too long crying over this in the last couple of days, and she knows that if she keeps going over it the more she’s going to hate herself. She brushes her tears away with the back of her hand: she wouldn’t be surprised if her skin is bruised. “What am I going to do? It’s not like I’m going to blow everything up.”

Claire laughs softly, chokes on a cough before settling down again. Claire never gets sick and yet here she is, borderline bedridden and alone in another country without her friend or her family to help her deal with it. This year’s been harsh, everything piling up on top of each other, and the nail that is Grace’s stability keeps getting hit on the head as thing after another impacts her life, and her and Claire’s relationship. 

The ugly monster of selfishness crawls underneath her skin. “How are you feeling today?” She asks softly, like raising her voice will cause either one of them to go down some sort of spiral again. 

“As good as someone with Covid can.” Claire blows her nose and groans afterward, then Grace hears it heavily slap against the desk, no doubt into a pile of pre-used tissues that have accumulated over the duration of their call. “The clinic said this was the new strand, Delta, I think? I’m so special I get the new strand.”

“That’s so dumb,” Grace laughs, fiddling with a hole in her sweatpants. “You don’t even leave your house and you get all the good stuff.”

“It’s just the joys of Door Dash, G.” Claire shuffles around, probably adjusting her position so her bones don’t ache as much. She’d said it wasn’t as bad as she was expecting it to be, but she complains about her muscles aching and feeling so heavy wherever she is. Grace can’t remember the last time she ate, and when she had she’d talked about her nausea, her lack of appetite, the pain it caused her head. Now, she fluctuates between her cushioned, reclined gaming chair and her bed to stay on the phone with Grace. She knows that if her visa didn’t decline, Claire would have slept through the entirety of her sickness. She’s a good friend. A really, really, good friend. 

“Maybe it’s not so bad that you… couldn’t come,” Claire says delicately, like if she says ‘decline’ the floodgates would open again. To be fair, they probably would. Grace isn’t normally emotional, prefers to bottle everything up and never talk about it, but this is something that can’t be stored. She tears her heart out into little pieces over a red mark on pre-signed papers. “‘Cause I’m sick. I’d be all snotty and then you’d want to move out straight away.”

Move out implies that she’d be moving in. She knows this, of course she does. There’s a room in Claire's house with a blue-made bed that has a welcome pack prepared and placed on the foot. Grace wonders how many cobwebs have formed on it, whether the blanket Claire had crocheted still smells like her perfume or if it’s been too long. In their calls, when she shows Grace, the room looks cold, unlived in. She supposes that’s because it is, but there’s no ‘almost’ about that room. Is it even hers?

Grace hums, not wanting to commit to an answer. She’s not sure what she would say that isn’t horribly telling. She just wants everything to fall into place, she wants them to settle beside each other and only be brought apart to be put back together. 

Claire huffs and her chair squeaks as she sits herself up. Grace slumps back in hers as she hears the stupid clacking noise of Claire’s horrible mechanical keyboard while she types something. It’s white with RGB lights that were programmed to flash as she clicked them, entirely too advanced for the Walmart-branded base they were on. More often than not they black out and the lights don’t turn on at all, sometimes it disconnects from her PC even though they’re plugged in. They make so much noise, Grace supposes it’s what you get when you buy a mechanical keyboard for $20 from a supermarket, but it’s so impossibly Claire Grace can’t really complain. In the last 4 days, it’s been the only source of comfort, the repetitive non-smooth clacking as she types a thousand words a minute at some idiot on Discord. 

The clicks peter out for a second, before picking up again, faster than before, repetitive with many spaces in-between the words. She’s never seen them, but Grace imagines her fingers as she types. Does she paint her nails? Does she wear rings? If she does—what about her left hand? Is there space there for a ring that only Grace could give her?

“Check your email,” she says suddenly, and her chair squeaks again as she lowers herself back. She’s panting slightly, and there’s a short pang of bad going through Grace’s spine at the fact that Claire exhausted herself for her. She clears her throat and leans forward, clicking out of the nasty email that hasn’t left her screen in days, and navigates to the main page. There are hundreds of unread emails from the past few days, many subscription services or promotions from websites, but the top one is from Claire with a smiley face as the subject line and every anxiety melts from her. 

She opens it and furrows her brows. 

“This means a lot to you, yeah?” Claire asks, and it’s heard over a tapping on the desk. “Like, a lot. Me too.”

“Yeah,” Grace breathes, because really, what else is she supposed to do? “What does—”

“Do you want to get married?”

Grace bursts out laughing, the bubble exploding out of her throat and erupting before she even gets a chance to think about being polite and hiding it. Claire just sits in silence, not responding. 

“Dear, god! Thank you, Claire. I needed that laugh, oh my god.”

“I’m being serious, G,” Claire mumbles, and the tapping stops. It’s still in the call for a beat, not enough for it to really mean anything. That doesn’t stop Grace from overthinking. “We could get married. They keep denying your visa but if we get married you can get your green card and you can live here. You can stay here.”

“We aren’t together, Claire. Don’t we need to be dating before we get married?” Grace hums, but tries not to let her emotions bleed into her voice. This isn’t a topic she’d expect she’d be having with Claire. Maybe about other people but not about each other. 

“It doesn’t have to be real.” It’s quiet. “It can just be for convenience. So you can get here. We can divorce in a year or something so it’s not suspicious if you want.”

If you want. What if Grace doesn’t want to?

“You’re serious?” Grace doesn’t know what’s funnier: how outlandish Claire’s proposal was, or the fact that she’s already considering it. She feels a little selfish like she’s playing house and manipulating her feelings. “You don’t even like girls, Claire.”

Claire is uncharacteristically quiet. For a long time. The silence kind of sounds like nights locked inside her room, sounds like careful eyes looking down in the locker room, sounds like staying up too late and looking up ‘Am I gay?’. It sounds a bit too familiar to something Grace has already gone through. 

“Claire?”

“I’m sick, Grace.” Claire mumbles, and Grace can picture a soju red flush on her cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

Grace notes how she didn’t say that she isn’t thinking right. She means this, it’s not something that’s just randomly come out. Has she thought about this before? Has she typed this very email many times before, with the hope that Grace will accept? Is this the way that she tells her that she’s gay? That she loves Grace the same way she loves Claire?

No. It can’t be. Don’t be an idiot. 

“Think about it, okay?” Claire sighs and it seems further away, like she’s sunken further into her chair. Grace clicks on the links that Claire had emailed her and saves them to her bookmarks bar, typing out some half-assed name for them that she hopes she won’t cringe at the lovey-dovey-ness when she’s not so in her feelings about everything. She wonders if Claire can hear the affection and fondness drip from smooth Gatreon Reds. “I… I need you here. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Grace melts. If only everything could be easy. If only this stupid virus was gone and she could fly over and hug her, buy her a new keyboard just to keep the last one for sentimentality. 

Tomorrow is another day, whenever tomorrow happens. 

Now, she indulges her. “Would you wear a dress?”

Claire giggles, covers her face with her hand for a beat. “You’re an idiot, G.” The mood lifts, and for the first time in a while, there’s something good in the air. The call isn’t filled with anxiety and dull-toned clicks. “Only if you do.”

[realcube]

moan in their ear prank

characters ♡ tsukishima, tendō, iwaizumi, kenma & suna

content warning ♡ cursing, kinda crack in iwa’s, suggested punishment, sexual references, fem!reader & nsfw themes - minors dni

kei tsukishima

♡ you meant for it to be a harmless prank but everything you do to him while he is trying to study ends up as harmful towards yourself-

♡ you just had to sneak behind his desk and chair to grab your backpack which was lying on the other side so in the process, you casually leaned in to his ear and produced the most hushed, pornographic moan that you could

♡ his eyes widened as he turned to look at you with an expression which was filled with a mix of disgust, shock and horny. which resembled the look he pulled when you asked him what a Iguanodon is 

♡ it took a moment for him to lubricate his dry throat and process what you just did, but once he thought of a suitable response, he blurted out, ‘what the fuck was that?’

♡ a sly smirk graced your features, you didn’t even spare him a glance as you dipped down to grab your backpack and pull it over your shoulders, ‘nothing.’

♡ once you finally laid eyes on him, you couldn’t help but snort at his stunned look which you rarely got to see as most of the time, it’s extremely hard to catch him off-guard, ‘anyway, i should probably get going. see ya lat--’

♡ though, you couldn’t even turn around before tsukishima grabbed your wrist be glad he was sitting down or else it would’ve been your throat- , ‘you’re not going anywhere.’ then he proceeded to pull you onto his lap

♡ you giggled at how uncharacteristically bold he was being before placing a kiss on his cheek, ‘that was hot, i’ll admit. but i really need to get going - i’m in a bit of a rush.’

♡ his seductive smirk fell into a frown and he was quick to drop his bedroom persona, ‘fine, then. go be a whore somewhere else.’ he said, abruptly pushing you off his lap and focussing his attention back on his work

♡ you gasp, luckily finding your balance after he pushed you then making your way to the door, lingering there for a moment just so you could peer over your shoulder and hum, ‘alright. but you know i’ll always be your whore, kei.’

♡ tsukishima exhaled sharply through his nose, adjusting his glasses as the corner of his lip pulled into a small smile, ‘unfortunately for me, yes.’ 

♡ a few moments passed and you must’ve been admiring his effortless beauty for a bit too long as he suddenly turned to you and snapped, ‘i thought you were in a rush? why are you just standing there?! it’s freaking me out- or are you gonna moan for me again?’ he chuckled at his own teasing but when he saw that you were giving him love-dovey eyes again, a light blush tinted his face as he waved his hand for you to go away, ‘whatever, just get lost. goodbye, i love you & all that stuff.’

satori tendō

♡ he was sitting on the couch playing a game on his phone or sumn and nothing interesting had been happening lately so you took it upon yourself to make something interesting happen

♡ you approached the couch and plopped down next to him, your mouth hovering over his ear for a few moments - your hot breath tickling his skin - before you moaned in the most erotic way possible 

♡ he physically perked up then twisted his neck to look at you with an amused smirk, ‘someone’s horny.’ he commented, his attention quickly returning to his game

♡ you were excited to see his reaction but that was so underwhelming-

♡ your bottom lip jutted out to form a pout as you poked his cheek, ‘yes! aren’t ya gonna do something about it? i always help you when you’re horny!’

♡ ‘i’d love to help you out, princess. but i’m on the 48th level of candy crush. priorities.’

♡ you blinked rapidly, your gaze flickering between the phone screen and your clown of a boyfriend, ‘you know there is like..over eight thousand levels, right?’

♡ he side-eyed you with his eyebrow raised as if to say ‘fr?’ and you simply nodded in response 

♡ the app was soon deleted, ‘fuck that.’

♡ he tossed his phone aside and sighed as he stared into the void since he thought that his entertainment for the next few hours had been lost 

♡ but being the caring girlfriend you are, you were quick to swoop in and tilt his chin up to meet your longing gaze, ‘no, fuck me, satori.’

♡ and he did so gladly

hajime iwaizumi

♡ you did it to him when you saw him just lookin scrumptious asf while he making was pasta for dinner

♡ you slipped your arms around his waist and nuzzled your face into the back of his neck like you usually do when he cooks

♡ but this time, you hopped onto your tip-toes, lightly thrusted against his back and moaned quietly in his ear

♡ to your surprise, instead of getting flustered or mad, he just laughed

♡ though, it wasn’t one of his cute, toothy-grin chortles; but rather an intimidating string of low chuckles - as if he was mocking you 

♡ which he was

♡ you raised a brow, peering over his shoulder to see if he was perhaps amused by something else but unfortunately for you, he was ready to meet your gaze with a deadly glare 

♡ so yeah..you were railed on the spot <3

♡ you may be wondering what happened to your pasta but dw bc he rearranged your guts while adding oregano to that shit-

♡ multi-tasking king ✨👑

♡ like you were bent over the counter, face pressed against the cold marble and you stared directly at the fire of the stove beside you which tickled your face with a warm sensation as iwaizumi filled you up with an even warmer sensation 

♡ one of his hands massaging your waist while the other was stirring the pot 

kenma kuzome

♡ your first mistake was doing it to him while he was streaming 

♡ his camera was broken but the show must go on so it was just his voice + minecraft gameplay + you but the fans don’t need to know that 

♡ since his camera was off, kenma allowed you to sit on his lap as he played but under two conditions: you will not talk or make any noises and you can’t interfere with his game

♡ a small price to pay for some kenma snuggles :3 so ofc you obeyed

♡ well, for the first hour or so, at least

♡ after a while, it got boring just watching him play so you brought out your switch and started playing for yourself but even that became boring quickly too

♡ then the idea hit you 

♡ you were straddling him hence his ear was already by your lips, so it’s not like you’d have to move from your position

♡ plus, his mouth was very close to the mic so if you were quiet enough, the viewers probably wouldn’t hear a thing 

♡ though, you didn’t do too much reasoning, you kinda just acted on urge when you leaned in, pressed your lips together and hummed a faint moan

♡ his eyes widened and he visibly froze - if he had cat ears, they’d jolt upwards 

♡ his gaze immediately landed on the chat to ensure that nobody was going to mention it but his sudden silence probably made it more obvious that something happened

♡ the chat wasn’t flooded with inquiries but there were a few questions as to why he paused and if he was alright; so fortunately for your ass, it appeared as though nobody had heard a thing

♡ kenma hesitantly continued mining, explaining through gritted teeth, ‘oh, sorry, guys. my cat-’ he paused to pull his head back to shoot you a deadly glare accompanied by a snarl, ‘won’t shut the fuck up. shoo, kitty, we can cuddle later.’

♡ he waved his hand and you buggered off before you got caught cackling at the fact he called you ‘kitty’

♡ his chat genuinely believed him and he got a few donations solely bc they found out he’s a cat person

♡ so yeah, if anything you did him a favour but that didn’t stop him from fucking you into next week as soon as the stream ended 

rintarō suna

♡ any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fu

♡ you’re just sitting on his lap, cuddling - as y’all do - when the idea occurs to you 

♡ but a mistake you made was that you carried out this prank with no intention to actually do the dirty- you just wanted to see his reaction 

♡ he thought you were just craning your neck out to place a kiss on his cheek but when he hears your melodious moan ring through his head, he turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised 

♡ ‘that’s no way to ask for my dick. try again, but nicely this time .’ he snickered, lightly patting your head, clearly amused by your little pout

♡ honestly, he has such a soft spot for you - like you just existing near him makes him feel all warm inside 💕

♡ furrowing your brows, you whined, ‘i don’t want your cock, anyway. it was just a joke to see ho--’

♡ ‘you’re so horny for me, it’s kinda embarrassing.’

♡ his cocky smirk was simply met by your blank stare

♡ there was a long while of silence between the two of you; which you spent wondering why you were even with him while he was entranced by the thought of your pretty face with his dick half-way down your throat <33

♡ until eventually he broke by whipping off his shirt, lassoed it around your neck and pulled you in so your lips crashed against his, ‘you sure?’

[solarwonux]

89.  “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.”

93.  “Fuck…did we use protection?”

twitch streamer!wonwoo x f!reader

w.c: 3.9k (honestly I think I forgot what drabbles were clearly lol)

warnings: some angst, smut, mutual masturbation, some slight panty stuffing, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, pregnancy scare, talks about plan b

note: excuse me everyone I literally love gamer and twitch streamer Wonwoo, but not everyone does. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one if you want more twitch!streamer wonwoo let me I will be happy to oblige, I have MANY ideas. Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts. 

p.s send me a prompt for either svt or bts or both. I will also happily oblige to that lol

Masterlist || Drabble game 

Watching Wonwoo play Zelda was not what you had expected when he had texted earlier asking you to come over. “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you all night.” He whispered against your lips in a half kiss when you walked in through his front door.

That had been over an hour and three completed levels ago. It was an empty promise long forgotten as he kept himself immersed in the game, talking enthusiastically about his day and random things his brain would conjure up on the spot. It was like you didn’t exist, and for the most part to his viewers, you didn’t. It wasn’t like you were his girlfriend or anything. Even if you were, you valued your privacy more than anything in the world. You preferred to work on your own things in the background away from his camera whenever you were over. This was something the two of you had mutually agreed to. 

Casual hangs and casual sex.

Lately, your relationship had become the product of most of your stress. You never knew where you stood with Wonwoo. Sometimes he would literally invite you over to keep him company while he streamed only to kick you out the second he finished. “I’m too tired, you should go.” He would say pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I’ll see you later.” 

Of course, those moments were overshadowed by the soft touches he left imprinted on your skin. By the sweetness of the words he shared with you and only you whenever he wasn’t working. It made you want more. More of him, more of his attention, and more of whatever was going on between the two of you. But that was something you refused to bring up afraid that the only one harboring feelings for the other was you. 

Heartbreak was not in your plans for life, at least not for a while. 

You sighed, throwing your phone down onto the couch. Your patience was wearing thin. Maybe it had to do with the fact you were already having a bad day, and Wonwoo’s indifference towards you wasn’t helping. When you had gotten his text earlier, you couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. The two of you hadn’t seen each other in a few days with work schedules being all over the place and not aligning. It was something to look forward to, not necessarily because of the sex--which was always amazing. But you really just wanted to talk to him. Lay down with his arms wrapped around you while you complained about work and how frustrating your coworkers were being.

By the looks of it, you weren’t going to get any of that, not even what he had promised when you had first walked in. You were tired, your clothes were starting to annoy and you wanted to cry. If it wasn’t for the fact that his front door was in line with his camera, you would’ve left already.

Wonwoo could sense something was wrong with you. Every time you sighed it felt like you were punching him in the gut. He really meant what he had said when you walked in earlier. He also meant the quiet I love you he mumbled underneath his breath when you walked past him and into the living room. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen in love with you, just that months ago he had woken up and you were the only thing he could think of. Every time he held you in his arms the three little words bubbled up in the back of his throat, wishing he could bring himself to finally say it, but his fear held him back. Afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.

“Alright, you know what I think that’s enough for tonight.” Wonwoo smiled into the camera, trying to keep up with the chat as they begged him not to go yet. “I have to go, my girlfriend is over and I want to spend time with her. Anyway, same time next week Monday guys.” Wonwoo nodded, stopping the stream. Once he was positive that he had turned everything off he felt his shoulders relax and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the panic surging through his veins was unbearable. He turned around in his chair meeting your equally shocked face.

He royally fucked up. He just confessed to his audience without meaning to confess. He had told his audience that you were his girlfriend and he hadn’t even asked you yet. The surprise and speech he had worked on all week, the reason he took a break from streaming until tonight, was for nothing. He had gotten ahead of himself and he didn’t know what to do now. Or how to fix it.

“G-Girlfriend? Wait you have a fucking girlfriend?” You stood up from his couch, blinded by anger. “What the fuck Wonwoo, when were you going to tell me? Before or after you fucked me?” You shouted, your heart was beating fast as you turned around to gather up your stuff.

Unbelievable. Here you were distracted, thinking about how cute he looked while he blamed his failure on his character. The pout that had formed on his lips as he pushed his glasses up his nose and blew out a raspberry, moving aside the strands of his newly dyed blonde hair. The frustration you had felt earlier, forgotten, replaced with admiration. Only for it to come back after what he had said, this time fiery red and ready to burn everything it touched.

“Stop, no wait, I don’t have a girlfriend. At least not yet.” He spoke fast, his words blending with one another as he quickly made his way to you. He grabbed hold of your laptop and held it against his chest.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, did you just call me down to ignore me and then fuck me one last time before you called it quits!” You said in disbelief reaching over for your laptop.

Wonwoo turned around facing away from you. “No that’s not...that’s not what...fuck, calm down please and just let me talk.” He pleaded as he sat down on his couch, your laptop still clutched tightly in his arms. It was your prized possession, it held the first three drafts of the novel you were working on. He knew you well enough to know that you hadn’t backed anything up no matter how many times he told you to do so. So, he was positive that as long as he held onto it like his life depended on it (because it did) you wouldn’t leave without it.

You crossed your arms in front of you ”I am calm, but I don’t know if I want to listen to what you have to say.”

Wonwoo cringed, he was more nervous than what he had intended to be. He had an entire speech planned. Wrote it down, even got Jihoon to proofread it. He had performed it in front of his bathroom mirror every morning and night. He thought he had it in the bag, pumped up his chest a few times before opening his front door to you earlier. Yet, the second he saw you, he forgot everything he had planned to say. This is mainly why he had spent such a long time streaming. Hoping that the distraction would somehow help him remember.

It didn’t.

“Wonwoo, I swear if you don’t start talking in the next five seconds I’m leaving and suing you for holding my laptop hostage.”

Wonwoo sighed and slapped his forehead lightly before turning to look at you, “okay, I don’t think that’s allowed bu-”

“It is if I say that you stole it trying to steal my work, I don’t know I’ll find a way.” You shrugged, earning a glare from Wonwoo. You knew he hated whenever someone interrupted him while he was in the middle of saying something. It was something you would do to him out of spite, but in your humble opinion this time he really did deserve it. Though, it didn’t make you feel as good as you had hoped, “fine sorry, you can continue.” You sighed and sat down on his coffee table.

Wonwoo put your laptop down and leaned over his elbows taking your hands in his. “I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend. I know we agreed to just keep this casual but I can’t help the way my heart literally feels like it’s going to fall out of my ass whenever I’m with you. So yeah, I don’t have a girlfriend yet, because I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend yet. But there’s no one else, only you, and I’m so-”

Wonwoo was cut off when he felt your body land on his, knocking the air out of his lungs. You hugged him, straddling his hips and burying your face into his chest, giggling. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you felt awful for assuming the worst and jumping to conclusions.

“Ask me ask me ask me ask me.” You bounced on his lap like a child. He groaned doubling over in pain.

He placed his hands on your hips to keep you from moving, “No now I know you’re actually trying to kill me.” He smirked and left a sweet kiss against your lips. A low chuckle running past his lips as he took in your pouting face, “fine, my love, my baby will you please be my girlfriend?” He cocked his head, his hands playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Yes, but only if you give me my laptop back and keep the promise you made me earlier.” You smiled innocently, playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

Wonwoo smirked, his hands made their way underneath your shirt. “No to the laptop, you work too much and I’m determined to back up everything on a hard drive later.” He rubbed his thumbs over the skin of your hips, slowly inching closer to the button of your jeans, “not sure I remember the promise I made earlier though, can you remind me?”

You kissed him slowly, tugging on his shirt, “you said you would finish a level before going down on me all night, and it’s four and a half levels later and I’m still waiting.” You whispered against his lips, before pulling away and bringing his shirt over his head, taking it off, throwing it behind him, aiming for the laundry basket, missing it completely, making you sigh. 

“Well you didn’t give me enough time to answer, but that can be arranged.” He pecked your lips, pushing your shirt up and over your head, throwing it behind him. “You’d have to step into my office though.” 

“Wonwoo, baby, don’t ever call your room your office.” You rolled your eyes and got up from his lap. 

He chuckled, shaking his head and stood up, “oh no that’s not what I meant, room comes later. Tonight we start in my office.” He says cheekily, pointing his thumb towards his gaming setup. Your eyes grew wide as saucers, only making him laugh harder while he pushed you towards his gaming chair. 

“Wait, you’re like not going to turn the camera on are you?” You said as he pushed you down to sit in which you obeyed. The colorful lights from his gaming setup kept you distracted as Wonwoo got down on his knees in front of you. 

“Nope, I’ve just always wanted to eat you out while you sat on my gaming chair. But maybe one day in the future if you want. You can take over my stream and play animal crossing while I secretly eat you out on camera.” He smirked, the evil glint behind his soft eyes sent shivers down your spine. The little exibitionist in him coming out. You’d be lying if you didn’t find the thought of it exciting. 

“One day.” You breathed, lifting your hips, helping him as he pulled down your pants. 

Wonwoo sent you a wink pushing your thighs apart with his hands, “We can also play overwatch together. That cute little vibrator you keep hidden in your bedside drawer, stuffed inside your pussy.” He placed his index finger over the wet patch that had formed over your panties, pushing in slightly. “And everytime you die I up the speed, see how long you can last before you have me begging to turn off the stream so you can cum.” Wonwoo kept pushing his finger in you, your panties sticking onto you like second skin. 

You threw your head back, digging your nails into the arms of his leather chair. “F-Fuck how long h-have you thought about this?” You lifted your hips as he added another finger. 

“Right now, or maybe a few times when you’re not around.” He leaned down kissing your mound lightly, “but seeing you like this, sprawled out, wet and waiting for my mouth is reinforcing those fantasies.” He worked his fingers diligently, pushing the thin material of your panties inside of you. He couldn’t wait to stuff you full with his cock later. 

You let out a whimper as his mouth traveled down to your clothed entrance. He removed his fingers licking up a stride, before taking one of your lips into his mouth and biting down on it gently. “W-Wonwoo please I want to feel your mouth.” 

“You are, aren’t you?.” He looked, staring at you through the rim of his round glasses before repeating his actions again making you whimper. “Take your bra off, play with yourself for me.” He left a chaste kiss in your inner thigh and sat back on his heels. He palmed himself over his black tracksuit pants as he watched you slowly unclasp your bra, letting the straps slide down your arms. You were teasing him, he knew this but he didn’t care. Seeing you get undressed for him was one of his favorite past times, especially because you always went extra slow for him. 

You threw your bra, not caring where it landed. You rolled your palms over your nipples, soft sighs running past your lips as you kept your eyes trained on Wonwoo. “Want to feel your hot tongue fucking me Woo.” You spread your legs even further pinching your nipples. You moved your hand down your body, your index finger playing with the seam of your panties. “Is this one of your fantasies? Me touching myself, sitting here?” You said, tilting your head to the side, moving your hand into your panties and running your index and middle fingers over your clit slowly.

“Yes.” He hissed, pushing his hand into his boxers grabbing onto his cock. “God, you make me so hard.” 

“Let me see please.” You arched your back, your fingers getting faster. Wonwoo nodded, wasting no time to free himself, his hand wrapped tightly around his length. His index finger connects with the small bead of precum that had formed, showing you how sticky and ready he was for you. 

“Want to taste?” You nodded letting out soft moans as you lifted your hips, into the palm of your hand, sticking your tongue out for him. “Fuck.” He cursed getting up on his knees, bringing his index finger up to your mouth. You closed your lips around it, swirling your tongue over the tip, savoring the salty substance. 

You pulled away with a pop, taking your fingers out of your panties and bringing them up to his lips. He took them in, moaning around them. “Do I taste good?” You said taking out your fingers from his mouth, moving them over his lips, wetting them further. 

“I’m going to have to take a closer look.” He said lowly, pushing your panties down in a haste. He spread your legs, licking up your slit, teasing your hole with his tongue. Being in between your legs was his second most favorite pastime. He savored every moment of it. Sometimes he would prolong your orgasm, keeping you on edge, so that when you came, your sweet substance would coat his lips, spilling down his chin and neck. It was the most beautiful site, one that only he had the privilege in witnessing. 

“Mmm, your tongue feels so good Wonwoo.” You pinched your nipple while tugging on the roots of his blonde hair, pushing his mouth closer. 

He moaned, slurping up your juices like you were his last meal. He wrapped his mouth around your clit, pulling it between his teeth before letting it go. “I want to be here forever but I don’t think I can last any longer without being inside of you.” He pushed two of his fingers inside of you. The feeling of your wet walls wrapped around his thick calloused fingers made his cock twitch. 

“B-But I-I want to cum.” You pouted, arching your back away from his chair, pushing your hips further into his hand. “Please, I’m so close already.” You pant, the knot in the pit of your stomach threatening to break. 

“Oh honey, you will. I’ll have you coming undone more than three times tonight.” He stated with determination and brought his mouth down again, closing his lips around your clit. He sucked harshly moaning sinfully. He fucked you faster with his fingers curling them upwards, reaching the soft mushy skin inside of you. 

“W-Wonwoo f-fuck don’t stop I-I’m so close.” 

Wonwoo let go of your swollen bud, slowing down his fingers as you clenched around them. “Look at me, I want to watch me while you cum.” You agreed with a pleasure filled sigh, watching as he pushed back his glasses. The sight almost had you coming undone. 

He put his mouth on you again, increasing the pace of his fingers. Babbles coming out of your mouth as you pulled on his hair, motivating him to go faster. The squelching sounds coming from your wet, hot pussy sounded like music to his ears. He bit down on your clit lightly, sending you over the edge, your cum coating his fingers, while you moaned his name in a sweet sinful prayer. His eyes burning holes into yours, the sight was award winning, his cock begging to be milked out. 

Wonwoo continued, riding out your orgasm. Until you felt the oversensitivity overcome your body “W-Woo, s-stop please.” You pushed his head carefully with the palm of your hand. 

He kissed the inside of both of your thighs before sitting up on his knees, taking your face into his hands. “You always look so pretty when you cum.” He pecked your lips repeatedly, before wrapping your arms around you hugging you tightly. “I love you so much.” He kissed your temple. 

“Why do you always get so mushy every time you make me cum?” You laughed gently, running your fingers down his back, making him shiver.

“You bring out in me, I can’t help it, stop complaining. I’m giving you time to recover before I bend you over my desk.” 

“Not complaining. I love it.” You kissed his cheek. “And I love you.” You whispered in his ear, taking his earlobe, pulling it between your teeth.. He groaned, swallowing hard, his getting tighter around you.

“My desk, then my couch, then my bed, then the shower, and then my bed again.” 

The sun had started to rise. It was five in the morning and your body was suddenly overcome with sleep, when Wonwoo pulled out of you one last time. He had kept true to his promise, literally fucked you the entire night, christening his apartment, except his kitchen. “If we have sex in the kitchen, the only thing I’ll be thinking about while I’m cooking is your mouth around my dick.” He said as he pushed you into the wide window of his living room, making you laugh. 

“Do you have to work today?” He placed a delicate kiss against your collar bone, laying his head on top of your chest. 

“It’s Saturday, why would I have work on Saturday?” You smiled sleepily, running your fingers through his hair. He sighed happily, pulling his sheets over the two of you and cuddling into you further. 

“You’re always working, I just wanted to ask.” He shrugged, raising his body enough to leave a chaste kiss against your lips. “Take a break today and I promise that by the time you wake up again I’ll have all of your files backed up into the harddrive I bought you.” 

You shook your head, placing both of your palms against his cheeks, squishing them. “Do you know how sexy you sound when you talk about computers.” 

“Nope, but you once told me to divide you in half when I was explaining finances to you. Now that I think about it, that statement can go both ways.” He smiled laying down on his back, bringing you along with him. Your eyes growing wide when you felt it running down your thighs. You sat up in panic, removing the sheets of your body to see if your silent hypothesis was correct.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, confused.

“Wonwoo, fuck...did we use protection?” 

Wonwoo pushed the covers away with his feet, sitting up quickly. He looked between your legs, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, “You’re on the pill still right?” 

“We changed my formula, I had to stop taking it for a few days.” You threw yourself down on his bed covering your eyes with your hands. The tears pooling against your eyes. You felt the bed dip next to you. Wonwoo took your hands in his, revealing your tearful eyes to him making him sigh. 

“Baby, don’t worry.” He kissed your cheeks repeatedly before sitting up again, “I’ll run down to the convenience store, get a plan b while you go take a bath. I’ll join you when I get back.” 

“W-What’s happens if I take the plan b and still miraculously end up pregnant, it’s only ninety five percent effective.” 

“Then I’ll be with you every step of the way. I meant what I said earlier, I love you so much and I plan to marry you and have kids with you one day. Don’t worry.” 

Your heart felt full. The butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach. Wonwoo and you had shared many intimate dreams and desires before, but this one felt different. This was a dream the two of you shared and it made you feel at ease. “Okay, okay I will, just hurry up please.” 

Wonwoo scoffed, getting up from his bed, slipping on his sweatpants and sweatshirt. “Baby please don’t underestimate me. I’ll be back before you know it.” He leaned down giving you one last kiss before jogging over to his front door. “I love you.” He shouted, opening the door. 

You laughed sitting up on your elbows shaking your head, “I love you, now hurry I can feel your child cooking in me.” 

“Impossible, it takes roughly twenty four hours for my sperm to fertilize one of your eggs, and it’s literally been thirty minutes. Therefore you wou--”

“Wonwoo shut up just hurry.” 

“Okay I love you.” He said while closing his front door. You laughed shaking your head falling back on his bed. Your entire body was aching and though you were a little scared, given obvious circumstances. You had never felt so much warmth and happiness in your life. 

[marvelouspeterparker]

just little old me

pairing: harry styles x reader

summary: after releasing his second album, and the music video to his hit “watermelon sugar”, the response from his fans is overwhelmingly positive. and while you’re not surprised, harry on the other hand is very grateful, but just a little confused. but you’re more than happy to help clear some things up for him.

warnings: smut (hints of sub! and dom!harry––we love a switch) + unprotected sex but y’all know not to do that! be safe <3

word count: 3k

notes: this is my first ever harry fic! (also based on the summary u can see how long ago i started this sfjkdhgs) i’m so scared to post this i feel like all the harry writers are so talented––

[i’ve been reading harry fics for so long and these are just some of the blogs that you could say pushed my love for harry and inspired me to write a fic of my own: @majorharry​ @harryforvogue​​ @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​​ @sunflowervolvimp3​​ @haroldloverboy​​​ @songbirdstyles​ if you haven’t read their stuff yet, you should! i reread them all the time!]

You and Harry had been friends for the longest time, since before he was the Harry Styles. You’d watched him grow up in the spotlight while you supported and loved him from the sidelines. He’d bring you everywhere with him when he could, or rather when you allowed him to––you didn’t like the idea of him spending his money on you, but he always waved you off, saying nothing was too much if it was for you.

You were so proud of what he’d achieved and what he’d become but he was still the same Harry you grew up with and you couldn’t be more grateful to have him in your life all this time.

While he rarely spent his time on social media, you spent a majority of your time checking your phone and refreshing your feeds––you just liked to be informed and up to date. Harry didn’t interact that frequently with his fans online, instead preferring the connection when you meet face to face. However, although he wouldn’t respond to people, he would often let you show him what people were saying––after all, he was human too and sometimes he would get a little curious.

You and Harry had been sitting on his couch for an hour now, him messaging Jeff to deal with work related things while you scrolled through twitter, looking at the fans reactions to Harry’s latest music video. It made you smile seeing how happy he made people, you’d seen several people had said that this was “exactly what we needed during this time” and honestly, you couldn’t agree more.

You scrolled down some more and genuinely laughed out loud at the next tweet you read. “I’d sell both my legs and arms just to be the watermelon slice between Harry’s teeth.”

You caught Harry’s attention and he looked over at you, raising a brow, a small smile on his lips. “What’s up?”

You settled down from your laughing fit and showed him the tweet and both his eyebrows raised.

He laughed sheepishly, “You know I really don’t get the ‘hype’”, he put the last word in air quotes. He was always trying to keep up with the latest “slang” as he would put it. He shrugged, a small smirk on his face “I’m just little old me.”

Though his face showed humor, after all the these years, you could tell from the look in his eyes that there was some truth behind his words.

You looked at him incredulously before rolling your eyes and putting your phone aside, unable to stop yourself from going off. “It’s because you’re so genuinely kindhearted, talented and incredibly attractive.” You said as a matter off factly, looking him right in the eye, before looking down at your hands and leaning further back into the couch. “And you have this aura about you––Literally anyone would get down on their knees for you if you asked––actually, no, you wouldn’t even have to ask. You could just look at them and they’d do it, no questions asked. They’d know what to do.”

You had no idea where the courage for you to say all that came from, but you have to admit something about seeing him biting into those watermelons and looking right in the camera three minutes straight while he sang about eating someone out put you on edge. You had been there for him through all his relationships and you loved having him as a friend...but being that close to Harry and not falling in love with him was practically impossible and you weren’t blind. I mean come on.

After a few moments had passed and he still hadn’t said anything, you looked up at him. He was sitting there, a serious look on his face as he stared you down, completely silent. He put his phone down on the table and leaned back, spreading his legs.

You quickly glanced down at his lap then back up to meet his eyes. “What––What are you doing?”

He looked you up and down. “Well according to you,” he tilted his head cheekily, “all I need to do is look at you, and you’ll know what to do.”

Your breath hitched, your brain malfunctioning.“I––You?” You shook your head, knowing that Harry wouldn’t be doing or saying anything if he didn’t mean it. You decided you’d ask questions later. After all, it’d been a while since you got with anybody and you were more than a little horny. You snapped out of your daze and made your way over to him, sliding down onto your knees right in front of him.

You pushed down the thought of how there were literally millions of other people who would kill to be in your position right now and focused on the task at hand. You looked up at him, silently asking for some direction but he shook his head slightly, “This is all you, love. You call the shots.”

You nodded to yourself, taking a deep breath as you calmed yourself down. “Can you take these off for me?” You asked, pulling on his shirt and his sweats.

He quickly got up and stripped himself of his shirt and his bottoms, but you stopped his hands before he could reach for his briefs. You cleared your throat, looking up at him, “I––I can do it.”

He smiled at you before dropping his hands at his sides, letting you do your thing.

You slowly brought the material down, letting his member spring free, trying not to stare too much because wow. You left a trail of soft kisses down his thighs as you pushed the underwear down his legs and you could feel him taking sharp breaths as you did so. He quickly stepped out of them and waited for you to tell him his next move. 

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocently sinful and he swore he felt himself swell up a little more. Your voice was small yet firm when you spoke up. “Can you sit down for me, please?”

He eagerly took a seat and placed his hands on his thighs, his ringed fingers spread out, anxiously tapping against his legs. You grabbed his member and he let out a shaky breath, eyes flitting between your hands on him and your face––both views entrancing him. 

“Is this okay, H?” You asked softly and he almost choked on his breath.

He nodded, “Y––Yeah, f’course it is lovie, shit.” 

You hummed, smiling as you leaned forward and swirled your tongue around his tip. You left open mouthed kisses along his shaft and licked along his cock, from the base to the top before spitting on it, spreading it with you hand and getting it nice and wet. His fingers were digging into his thighs and you couldn’t help but notice. 

You took your hand off of him and ignored the whine that escaped him as you did so. You took his hands in yours and placed them on your head, “You can.” You smiled gently and he nodded, his fingers grasping your strands firmly but not harsh enough to hurt you. 

You put your mouth back on him, stroking him as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head, relishing in the small whimpers and moans of your name he let out. You were completely focused on him, tuning into what made him react the loudest and doing it over and over again just to hear those pretty sounds again. 

His fingers gripped your hair harder, his hips unwillingly bucking into you softly as he got closer. “M’gonna cum, love. Don’t––” He was mumbling, biting his lips as he looked down at you. When you sucked on his tip, looking him in the eyes, he cursed softly and let his head rest on the cushion, deciding it was too much to feel you and look at you if he wanted to last. “Don’t wanna cum just yet.” 

You hummed and pulled off of him, your hand still stroking him. “No?” You pouted playfully. He could hear it in your voice and it only made him twitch in your hand. 

“N––No.” He swallowed thickly and looked down at you, his eyes blown with lust. He reached down and pulled you up to stand between his legs. “Wanna make you feel good too.” You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face. “Not fair for me to be the only one getting what I want, is it?” He tilted his head, licking his lips as he looked up at you, his hands rubbing up and down the backs of your thighs teasingly. 

When you didn’t respond, his hands squeezed you. “Asked you a question, lovie.” 

You gasped lightly. “N––No it’s––not fair...” 

He smirked, reaching for your shorts. “Let’s take these off, yeah?” You nodded and let out a small yeah, and only then did his fingers slip into the waistband and pull the material down your legs. You placed your hands on his shoulders while he helped you step out of your bottoms. He looked up at you, a glint in his eyes as he reached for your panties, again, only pulling them down after you gave your verbal consent. He kept his eyes trained on yours the whole time he slipped them down, and if anything that made you feel more vulnerable––more open. 

When you stepped out of them, he trailed his hands up your thighs and along your hips before raising your shirt a bit. “Can you take this off for me?” You nodded and pulled the shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes as his hands splayed across your abdomen, his cold rings contrasting with the warm pressure of his fingertips. 

His hands slid up, and he smiled when you let out a breathless please when he asked for permission to touch your newly exposed skin. His eyes finally trailed down past your eyes, widening with arousal when they settled on your soft skin, your pebbled nipples, straining for attention. He rubbed his thumbs over the numbs ever so lightly, looking back up at you when you sighed and arched your back, leaning further into his touch, almost as if he wanted to commit it to memory. 

“Look at you, pet.” You whined softly at the nickname and the feeling of his hands on your skin. “So beautiful.” He grasped your breasts and now it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. 

He let his hands slide back down to your waist and you pouted, making him furrow his brows playfully. “Hey, none of that now.” He brought a hand up to hold your jaw. “Just realized we haven’t even had a proper kiss yet and you had me down your throat.” You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment but his thumb caressed your cheek soothingly, sliding over to run over your lips gently. “C’mere.”

You stepped into his embrace and pressed your lips against his, your hands coming to hold the side of his face and play with his hair, making him moan into you. His hand stayed at your jaw, the other sliding down your body to grab your ass firmly. Your lips slotted together perfectly as you pulled away and reconnected them softly every few seconds, thoroughly enjoying each other. He licked into your mouth and quickly took control of the kiss, not that you had any complaints, sucking on your tongue and pulling you in closer. He bit your lip and pulled away, smiling when you subconsciously tried to get more of his lips. 

His eyes trailed down to between your legs and they stayed there for a moment, distracted. “Gonna let me have a taste?” He licked his lips teasingly, looking back up at you. “I just wanna taste it.” He referenced his song, a small smile on his lips. 

You rolled your eyes, a smile on your face as well. “Harry.”

“What?” He shrugged innocently. “M’just being honest.” 

“You actually want to? You don’t have––”

“Been dying to, pet. You don’t know how long I’ve been aching to get my mouth on you.” He got down on his knees and the sight of him looking up at you from that position made your whole body shiver. 

He placed his hands on your thighs. “What do you say? Gonna let me have my dessert?” 

You nodded, letting out a small okay. When you tried to sit down where he had just been seated, he shook his head and stopped you, taking one hand and lifting your leg to place it on his shoulder. Your eyes widened, your mouth dropping open as he placed your hands in his hair to steady you. 

He had the audacity to ask, “You good?” 

You nodded, dazed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Good.” He smiled and with that he leaned forward and licked through your folds, immediately kissing your clit, holding you as your head tipped back in surprise.

“Shit, Harry––” Your fingers gripped his curls, pulling him into you as he moaned. Of course he was enjoying himself as he pleased you. His tongue was moving with purpose as he lapped up your wetness, spreading it around your clit. He really knew how to use his mouth.

You moaned loudly when he sucked on your clit, and even louder when he used the tip of his tongue to trace on it, realizing what he was spelling out–– H A R R Y. He grinned when he realized you caught on and his fingers were digging into you as he held you up, letting you desperately grind onto his face. 

You looked down to make sure he was still okay with all of this, shocked to see him looking up at you, watching your reactions, clearly pleased. You cursed softly. “Feels really good, Harry. Fuck––” 

He hummed blissfully, properly burying himself in you, his eyes stuck on your body as he brought you to the edge rather quickly. “Gonna cum in my mouth, baby?” 

You whined, nodding your head as you held onto him for dear life. “M’so close.”

“Cum for me, pet. I want it.” He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, holding you upright as your body shivered and convulsed in his hands and on his tongue. He didn’t let up, fully making love to your clit with his tongue as he kissed your lower lips passionately, getting his light stubble wet. He was making a proper mess but neither of you cared. 

When your legs stopped trembling, he pressed a kiss to your clit, then to the thigh over his shoulder before placing your leg back on the ground. He looked up at you, a smug grin on his face as you looked at him, breathless. He stood up, his hands finding their place on your hips and he licked the rest of your juices that were still on his lips, his chin still slick with your arousal. 

“Care to clean me up, love?” He leaned closer. “Is your mess after all.” 

You smirked before leaning in and licking up your wetness from his chin and up his lips before bringing him in for a messy, passionate kiss. Without disconnecting your lips your turned him around and pushed him onto the couch, taking your seat on his lap, his arms wrapping around you instinctively. 

You wrapped your hand around his base, smiling down at him when he pulled away to whine. You lifted yourself up a bit and swiped him through the mess he made between your thighs. “Can I ride you, H?” You asked him, teasingly sweet. 

He threw his head back, “Christ, y’can do whatever you want to me, love.”

You kissed his neck and slid him into you, and his fingers dug into you as he let out a long moan. 

“God, you feel even better than I’d imagined.”

You tilted your head, starting to bounce and grind on him, “You’ve thought about this?” 

“Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” You were about to push further when he slid a hand down to rub at your clit, making you gasp and grind down on him harder.

“Oh fuck, H.”

He grinned, thrusting into you. “That feel good?”

You nodded. “So good.” 

His hand was holding your hip as he bucked his hips into you. How he found your spot so quickly, you have no idea. You tilted your head back and he grabbed your neck gently, making your eyes widen as you looked down at him, noticing the dark look in his eyes as he watched you come undone on his cock.

When he noticed you getting close, he pulled you in to rest on him and your wrapped your arms around his shoulders, whimpering into his neck as he started to fuck you harder, his hips finding a smooth rhythm easily. 

You kissed his skin, marking it up as you sat there and took everything he was giving you. He was still sensitive from before, but he didn’t want to finish before you did, again. “Come on, pet. Give it to me. Just one more so I can fill you up.”

You groaned, your lips grazing his skin as your legs started to tremble, your walls clenching around him, coaxing him to tip over the edge with you. Your body shook as you whimpered, your body tensing.

“That’s it, just like that.” He grunted, thrusting a few more times before he released inside of you, the both of you moaning together.  

He wrapped his arms around you tight, holding you close as he thrusted slowly, making sure to empty himself out inside of you. You both sighed softly and you sat up. He looked up at you, pure adoration and awe in his eyes, his arms still holding you. You placed your hands on his shoulders. 

“Hi.” You smiled sheepishly.

He smiled back, kissing you softly before pulling back to look at you again, his head resting against the couch. “Hi.” 

You looked down, deciding to focus on his tattoos, suddenly nervous. “I’ve uh––sort of wanted to do that for a while.”

He unwound his arms to caress your back with his hands. “Mm me too.” He smiled when you looked up at him. 

“I really like you, H.” 

“Well I guess it’s a good thing that I like you too, then.” He squeezed you playfully. “Would you like to go out on a date this week?”

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him again. “I’d love to.” 

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 3 (Rowaelin)

~Aelin~

There was something decidedly pleasant about sneaking out of prison.

It was the thrill, she supposed.

She'd always been a bit of an adrenaline junky, and there was nothing that matched up to the excitement of breaking out of a maximum security prison with no one being the wiser.

Aelin ran through the tunnel, her steps sure and soundless, a smile blooming on her face. What she was doing shouldn't give her such joy, but along with being a thrill seeker, she'd always been just a little bit vindictive.

Or maybe a lot.

The map of the tunnels was still crystal clear after all this time, and she had it memorized down to the number of steps it took to get to the right turn.

It was a three hour run. Two underground, then one through the city out into the suburbs.

While the first two hours were definitely not fun, it was the last hour that was tricky.

Avoiding cameras, not drawing any unwanted attention, dressing so no one could see her face without looking too much like the criminal she was.

It was also more exhausting.

It was an hour of sprinting across rooftops, sprinting through town, then sprinting some more.

It was a little funny to her that the journey to where she needed to go was more difficult than actually breaking into the building.

She had a set of scrubs stored in a nearby lockbox, along with a wig and a few prosthetics to make her look more like Ansel, one of the nurses working the night shift.

The security guard, Shelly, was prone to reading romance novels during her shift and never questioned why she occasionally thought she saw two of the same person wandering around.

It was no different tonight.

Once she had everything in place, Aelin strode confidently through the halls, grabbing charts and nodding like she knew what the hell she was looking at.

No one stopped her, no one questioned her.

When she got to the room and chart she wanted, she slipped inside soundlessly and crept up to the bed.

Despite the ever-present urge to hurry things along, she stuck to her plan and kept the dose the same.

The person on the bed never woke up, never noticed her slip an extra drug into the IV bag hanging on the wall.

Silent, efficient, traceless.

Just like she'd been taught.

Leaving was even easier than entering.

She waited until real-Ansel had been out of the guard's sight for a while, then walked out the back door of the facility like she hadn't just committed a felony.

One of the few crimes she actually deserved to be in prison for, ironically.

Then she ran back, hiding in the traffic camera's blind spots and ditching the wig along the way.

It was a little stupid and drawn out to do it this way, not to mention unbelievably cruel, but Aelin had always had a flair for the dramatic.

Plus, like she said: exciting.

~Rowan~

Doubt is a strange emotion.

It starts small, so small you hardly even realize it's there.

And then, over time, it grows and grows like a fungus, eventually becoming something that you think about all the time. Something that kills you.

Rowan didn't believe in doubt.

His problem had never been with not believing in himself, it'd always been with the opposite affliction: over-conviction.

He believed things so fully, so deeply, it was hard to see it any other way.

It was what made him such a good lawyer. As the top public prosecutor in the city, he had a reputation for being impossible to win against.

He convinced himself of the defendant's guilt so completely, the jury had almost no option but to believe him.

He hadn't always been that way, he didn't think. Argumentative and stubborn, sure. His mother could attest to that. But never so unflinchingly self-assured. So alright with deceiving himself if need be.

If he had to guess, he'd say it'd started two months after the day of Aelin's trial.

He hadn't been lying to her four days ago; every word had been the truth. He'd worked his ass off all those years ago, trying to find something that would help him either clear her name or at least fucking sleep at night.

He'd given himself a timeline, deciding that if he couldn't find a single lead in two months, there probably wasn't one. Two months, and then he'd let it go.

He didn't regret stopping his hunt--he'd seen what an obsession could do to someone.

And when that day had come, he'd thought he was ready. He'd exhausted himself working both her case and the ones he was assigned, burning the candle at both ends and sleeping in the office more nights than his own bed.

There'd been nothing to be found. The evidence, the testimonies, the medical examiner's reports... they'd all pointed to Aelin.

So eventually he'd forced himself to stop looking.

But the sight of her swinging between the two court police officers, fighting for just one more second with him with a desperation he'd never seen from her... he hadn't known how he could just forget something like that.

The image followed him, haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw hers. Lined with tears and disbelief and so much hurt he felt like invisible hands were wrapped around his neck.

So he'd hardened himself against it.

He'd repeated the pieces of evidence against her, told himself she was guilty until the words were easy to say, forced himself to visualize the crime scenes of her victims whenever he thought of her.

Piece by piece, he'd swapped out the months of positive memories they had with stone cold facts.

And it had worked.

After a month, he could sleep again. After a year, he hardly thought of her and when he did, it was with disgust.

Yet now, over eight years later, he found himself with just the slightest amount of doubt again.

It was the same nagging, incessant feeling he hadn't been able to shake eight years ago. Back for round two, apparently.

At first, he'd played it off as nerves from their conversation. She'd worked him up so much he'd admitted how much he'd once loved her and said things he shouldn't have.

His body was reacting to the sadness in her eyes, the surprise that had bloomed when he'd told her he'd fought for her. It was emotion, nothing based in logic, that made him want to start looking again.

At least that's what he told himself.

But four days later, he found himself on the couch--he really did need to give up and just buy a new bed--staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep and not being able to.

Because... well because what if she was telling the truth?

Why else would she have told him that story?

What had he missed during all those late nights spent hunched over her folder?

The questions grew and grew, until that once-little shard of doubt started to slowly drive him mad.

The uncertainty, no matter how small it had begun, had grown to be almost irritatingly large and unavoidable.

He couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. The breadcrumbs that apparently only he could find.

What did that mean?

And why couldn't he just let it go?

"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing his blanket off and storming to the closet.

Like a love-struck idiot, he'd kept a box full of the stuff she'd left at his apartment during their relationship. The stuff that wasn't evidence, at least.

If it was something only he could find like she'd said, it was probably something only he had access to.

He dropped the box on his kitchen table and opened the lid.

Then cursed when the first thing he saw was a pair of red lace underwear. That was the last thing he needed to be thinking about and remembering.

Especially when he'd barely been able to resist the temptation to kiss her in that interrogation room.

Something about the way she'd looked at him after he'd told her he'd fought for her all those years ago had rattled the grip he had on his control hard.

She'd seemed so... sad. So hopeless. It had brought out the urge to comfort her in whatever way he could.

Hearing about her childhood and how she'd been raised by Arobynn Hamel hadn't made it any better. Truthfully, it'd broken something inside of him.

She'd always been so positive around him--a ray of light he'd felt was put on this earth just for him.

And all the while, she'd been forced to live with and work for one of the most notorious crime syndicate members of all time.

He'd always known she hadn't had a good childhood, but there was a difference between foster care hell and an actual house of horrors. Rowan couldn't even imagine the things she'd seen. Been forced to see, to do.

She made it out, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath.

But had she?

If what she'd told him was true, she'd killed those people because she'd been forced to.

It hadn't been her choice.

But there was something else about her, something he couldn't stop thinking about.

The secret she'd eluded to, the one that apparently only he had the key to solving.

A secret she'd promised would explain everything.

He tossed the underwear on the table, vowing to ignore them.

Then threw them in the trash a minute later when that became impossible.

You're such an asshole, he told himself, shaking his head. It's been eight years.

Even if that part of their relationship was most definitely memorable.

"Jesus," he laughed, running a hand over his face. Why was he even thinking about that?

Maybe it was the look in her eyes four days ago, or maybe it was simply that Aelin had been an important part of his life. He'd never forget the connection they'd had. Maybe it would always be a part of him.

But that was ridiculous, because he'd been connected to plenty of women since. Plenty of gorgeous brunettes and redheads.

For some reason, he hadn't been able to date a blonde, but that didn't mean anything.

He was over her.

Obviously.

Forcing his thoughts away from Aelin, he grabbed the next thing in the box.

Her address book. Maybe she'd left a note in there?

He flipped it open, scrolling through blank page after blank page. Her cousin's address and phone number were there--both of which he confirmed with police records--but other than that, it was blank.

The next thing he found made the ache in his chest expand to a soul-sucking hole.

It was a travel brochure for Aruba.

The edges were frayed from how much she'd flipped through it, and notes in her handwriting were scribbled throughout the pages.

He remembered this, all right.

He'd woken up one morning, a morning that seemed like a lifetime ago, to find her laying on top of him, leafing through the travel pamphlet with a huge grin on her face.

"We're going to Aruba," she'd whispered in lieu of a greeting, leaning down to press her lips to his.

"Why?" he'd asked back between kisses.

"Because it's the perfect place to hide from your real life," had been her laughed response.

She'd planned a trip for them at Christmas. Their very first trip together.

Every time they saw each other, she'd shown him a new page or told him about a new activity she wanted to do.

In general, she was a happy, excited person, but he'd never seen her so thrilled over anything like she was that trip.

He'd hidden it better, trying to play it cool, but he'd been excited, too.

He'd pictured her on the beach, running in the sand and smiling and laughing and drinking from a coconut. He'd imagined sneaking to the beach one night and making love to her in the ocean.

He'd imagined getting down on one knee and asking her to be his travel partner for life.

She'd been arrested two weeks before they were supposed to leave.

He tossed the little magazine back into the box, shaking his head to clear it of the memories and long-lost dreams.

The only thing left in the worn box was books.

Aelin had volunteered at a publishing house, trying to get hired as a fiction editor, and she'd always had a book in her ridiculously heavy pocket book.

She'd given him a few of her favorites, claiming that if he ever wanted to know the "real her," he had to read them.

A statement that made a lot more sense now than it used to.

He grabbed the one on top and leafed through it, going through the pages and scanning.

When that didn't yield anything, he flipped to the back of the book and looked at the inscription she'd written him.

March 1

Rowan,

I know you're not a fan of fiction, let alone romantic, feminist fiction, but I hope you'll read this and fall in love with Elizabeth's character like I did.

Aelin

He turned the book over and looked at the front again, then flipped through it again, then went through the whole process again.

Why did he feel like something about this didn't add up? And why was this, of all things, what she'd left as a breadcrumb?

He didn't figure it out until he reread the inscription for the fifth time and realized the date she'd written.

March 1st.

It was wrong; she'd given him this book on his birthday in February. He remembered because he'd laughed about her giving a grown man a romance novel for his birthday.

Why had she put March 1st? And why did that date stand out in his mind?

Stomach dropping, he finally figured out why that date was so important. It was the date of the first murder.

Maddison Kliff, a state senator who controversially wanted to fund renewable energy in the upcoming year, had been murdered the morning of March 1st eight years ago.

Breadcrumb.

He grabbed the next book from the stack, Wuthering Heights, and flipped to the end.

Almost the exact same inscription, except the date was April 13th, and the inspiring character was Linton Heathcliff.

April 13th was the day another victim died.

Rowan's heart started pounding, so hard he thought he was going to either pass out or go into cardiac arrest.

What was the connection between these dates, characters, and victims? Rowan could feel it in his gut that this was what she'd been talking about. It had to be.

He flipped through the books again, looking for something else, but there was nothing there. Nothing was underlined or highlighted, and the books were all in brand-new condition, no pages were bookmarked.

"What are you trying to tell me, Aelin?" he whispered, rubbing at his temples.

He made a list of all the dates and characters, stared at it until he thought he'd go blind, and tried to think like her.

Except her mind was a complex puzzle he'd never quite solved, so that didn't give him anything besides a headache.

He looked in the box again, hoping to magically find another note or something that explained everything in simple, idiot-proof terms.

But all that was there was that damn Aruba magazine.

It's the perfect place to hide from your real life.

The words came rushing back to him, so suddenly and violently it was like his subconscious had been shouting it for a while.

Was that it?

Maybe the connection wasn't only between the dates and characters, but it also had something to do with Aruba.

Maybe that was where this secret, whatever it was, was hiding.

Knowing he was probably grasping at straws, Rowan grabbed his phone and called the one person who'd help him.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I need a favor, Gavriel."

He heard a heavy sigh. "Like a we've been friends for twenty years favor or like an I'm the Chief of Police favor?"

"The latter," Rowan answered.

"Dammit, Rowan, you're going to get me fired one day." That was what he said every time. There was a long pause, then, "What do you need?"

"Flight manifests from Rifthold to Aruba from ten different days eight years ago."

Gavriel caught on quickly. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a former flame of yours, would it? One currently serving time for ten murders from eight years ago?"

"Of course not," he lied, knowing he was busted.

Another sigh. "You need to let this go, kid."

Rowan ran a hand over his face, knowing that wasn't possible. Not when, for the first time since he'd been assigned this God forbidden case, he had a lead.

"Can you help me or not?"

"I will, as long as you promise to drop it once whatever you're chasing ends up to be yet another dead end."

Knowing he didn't have another choice, Rowan agreed.

Gavriel told him he'd send them over, then said softly, "I know you loved her, Rowan, but it's time to move on."

It's not that easy, he thought, thinking once again of Aelin sitting in that tiny cell, skin pale and hair too long.

"Thanks for your help," he said instead, hanging up before the lecture could continue.

A few minutes later, he was printing out the passenger lists from all the Rifthold to Aruba flights on each of the ten dates.

Starting with August 1st, he went through, passenger by passenger, and looked for an Elizabeth.

There'd been three direct flights to Aruba that day, so by the time he found it, his eyes were so tired he almost missed it entirely.

But there was a name that stuck out, one that was straight out of his copy of Pride and Prejudice.

Seat 14C had been occupied by Elizabeth Darcy, and she'd flown directly from Rifthold to Aruba on August 1st.

Rowan's jaw damn near hit the floor.

His hands shook as he highlighted the name, writing the victim's name next to it to keep it straight in his head.

His mind whirled with possible explanations, but he didn't let himself think about anything except the next date.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he went through the passenger list for April 13th.

And sure enough, Linton Heathcliff was on one of the flights. In the same damn seat.

"Holy fuck," he whispered, grabbing the next sheet of paper.

He went date by date, flight by flight, and by the time he'd located every character, he was sure of what he'd found. What she'd left for him.

It wasn't a breadcrumb, it was the whole goddamn loaf.

Rowan barely made it to the kitchen sink before his stomach emptied as an explanation of what had really happened eight years ago started to form in his mind.

He didn't have all the pieces, but the ones he did have made him literally sick to think about.

Her insistence on being innocent, her begging him to look again, telling him only he could find the clues... it all made sense.

The doubt he'd been struggling with for eight long years suddenly disappeared, replaced by a certainty so swift and thorough and all encompassing, it almost took his breath away.

She hadn't been lying.

She hadn't killed those ten people.

She couldn't have, because...

"They're still alive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dun dun duuuuun

part 4 out next Friday (sorry for the slow updates I'm in summer school)

@audreycressworth @whimsicallyreading @onceupona-chaos @lil-unoriginal-weirdo-273sole @surielandiareendgame @captain-swan-is-endgame @poisonous00 @vasudharaghavan @sailorsassley @endlessdaydream @swankii-art-teacher @beanco8 @stokingthemidnightflame @mis-lil-red @ladyfireheart-and-buzzard @sheharahu @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @jorjy-jo @court-of-dreams-and-ashes @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @loudphantomdragon @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[13uswntimagines]

Leave the Cooking to Me (Sam x Rose x Reader)

Request: Sam x rose x reader. Where R was a part time chef so she’s always cooking their meals and the team is jealous of the good food

Author’s Note: Special Thanks to @literaryhedgehog. We had way too much fun doing this one and spent way too much time looking up random food things. Gotta say that we are both a sucker for writing for Sam. 

Sam and Rose were lucky and they would tell that to anyone who would listen to them. You weren’t just the sweetest human being they had ever met, or the most thoughtful. You were all of those things, and you knew how to cook. Not just recreationally either. You were the full fledged winner of Top Chef season 19, and the Sous chef at one of the hottest restaurants in Washington D.C.

“How can you make such good food dressed like that?” Sam asked, leaning over the island and resting her chin on her hand. 

“What do you mean?” You raised your eyebrows at the woman, continuing to run your knife along the onion without looking at it. 

“Don’t all of your skills come from your chefs coat?” Rose asked, sliding up beside you, her hand trailing under the back of your shirt. You shivered at the cold hand touching your skin. 

“I’m not Iron Man. I can function without an outfit,” you said, rolling your eyes, as you grabbed an egg. You happened to like wearing an oversized pajama shirt and short-shorts while cooking. You never felt bad about spilling anything on them, since you didn’t exactly wear them in public. “Sam, since your hands aren’t literal icicles-” Rose stuck her tongue out at you playfully “- can you hold this and warm it up to room temperature while Rose helps me hold the pastry?” 

“Ohhh what kind of pastry? Why is that filling purple?” Rose squealed. You knew how much she loved when you baked for them (especially considering those croissants you made them for special occasions). She pulled the bowl closer to her, and scrunched her nose when she saw the contents. 

You may have had a good track record, but that color was crazy. 

“It’s Spanakopita, but we’re going to experiment just a little bit. If you don’t like it you have to eat it anyway,” You shrugged, rolling out the dough onto a cutting board, and positioning Rose’s hands right where you wanted them. 

“If you make it, we’re going to like it.” Sam snorted, and Rose raised her eyebrow at her. 

You bit you lip, wilting just slightly. “I just got inspired, cause the beats are going to look so good in the risotto for the Arancini,”

“If it’s anything like that curry you made last time you got inspired, I think we’ll be ok,” Sam said, kissing your neck with a grin while you worked. You squeaked a little and jumped, hip-checking her to keep her away from accidentally touching the food. 

“It’s just a shame Valentine’s day already happened,” Rose said, looking at the three bowls of filling in their various places on the counter or in the fridge, “Pink, red, and purple dishes would have made great themed appetizers for your restaurant!” 

You snorted and shook your head. “I wish, we could do anything this interesting.” The arancini, maybe. The other two would probably be avoided like the plague for fear of any garlic or other lingering spices. “People are too bougie to enjoy the simple things like strangely colored foods.” 

“Good thing we’re not!” Sam smiled broadly, stealing a piece of orange-colored pork from the bowl to your right. 

“Yeah, we get all the sass and none of the class,” Rose giggled, barely avoiding your slap at her hand as she also stole a piece of pork. 

Just then you heard singing from the couch. “We are family,” Sam stuffed the piece of pork in her mouth and jumped up to grab her phone from where it was wedged between the cushions. “I’ve got all my sisters and me.”

“Tha’s Kwsten,” She spoke through her mouthful then swallowed. Do you mind if I go take this?” 

“Go for it, we’re about to stick this stuff in the oven anyway,” You nodded, giggling when she tripped over a chair on her way to grab the phone. “Make sure you swallow before you answer,” 

“Took you long enough. What were you doing, trying to find your pants?” Kristie’s voice rang through your apartment the second Sam answered the call. You smiled when your girlfriend’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. 

“No, Y/n is cooking. She’s so good with her hands Kris, it’s not fair,”  Sam said shaking her head. 

Kristie snorted, wiggling her eyebrows at the woman. “I’m sure she is,” 

“Stop trying to turn everything I say into a euphemism.” Sam groaned, sending a glare at Rose who was cackling like a madwoman. 

“But you make it sooo easy,” Kristie teased, “I mean what was it you said last time, ‘she kneads aggressively?’”

“Bread, Kris. She was making bread. And you’re supposed to do-I mean knead it aggressively, that’s how gluten develops.” 

“Stop trying to explain it babe,” Rose sang, her voice bubbling with suppressed laughter.  

“You’re just making it worse,” You nodded along. 

“You know, I’m not this mean to you when Emily and Lindsey pull this shit with you. I was even sympathetic with the Sketchers thing,” Sam pouted. 

“We agreed to never mention that again,” Rose said menacingly, but Sam was distracted as you handed her a plate with the Spanakopita.

Sam’s pout melted off her face at the sight of the plate. “Ooo goodies. Thanks babe,” 

You kissed her cheek and waved to her sister on the phone before heading back to the kitchen to finish the next set. 

“What is that?” 

“Just course one of the amazing appetizers lunch my wonderful girlfriend is making for me.” Sam bit in and rolled her eyes at the taste, holding up the other half of the Spanakopita so she could see the gorgeous and delicious purple filling. 

“For both of you Sammy. Don’t leave Rosie out, that’s mean,” You called out, your tongue poking between your teeth as you stirred the pot on the stove. 

In the background of Kristie’s call, Sam could see other teammates gathering around the phone to see her food. She stood and walked back to the kitchen, turning the facetime camera around so they could see the two trays out of the oven and then you stirring at the stove. You waved your spoon but stayed focused. The rice was just at the point when it was most likely to burn and you needed to make sure the texture didn’t go from delicious to goopy. Risotto wasn’t for the faint of heart. 

“Look at how fluffy this Bao is!” Sam said, slowly tearing one of the dumplings in half in front of the camera. Sisterly torture went both ways- her sister may turn half of what Sam said into sex jokes, but Sam could rub the delicious food in Kristie’s face. 

“Why is it so orange?” Emily asked, piping in from behind the older Mewis sister. 

“Some awesome Indonesian spices that Y/n thought would be good,” Sam said, taking a huge bite out of the bun. 

“Tamarind and Turmeric in the mix,” you called out from behind her.

“It’s not fair that your girlfriend is a literal chef who enjoys cooking in the weekend,” Emily whined, followed shortly by a “shut up Sonnett” from Lindsey and a thump. 

“Experimenting apparently,” Rose said, mischievously. 

“Not helping dear. Anyway, what were you calling about Kris?” Sam said pointedly. 

“We just wanted to know what you eta for camp was?” Kristie asked. 

“Um, the flight leaves tomorrow at what time was it again Rose? 8 am?”

“Try 4:30 am Sam,” You rolled your eyes. It was going to suck, but you were going to make sure to pack some tasty overnight oats so no one was grumpy on the plane. 

“Ugh. That’s bullshit. Anyway, takeoff at god-awful early in the morning, and then we’ll see you when we land!” Sam said. She hung up the phone and moved back towards the counter. 

“Don’t worry babe, I’ll schedule the flight next time,” You leaned up to kiss her cheek. “Now how bout you help me roll some balls?” 

*****

“I don’t know what we did wrong this time?” Kelley said, poking the overly pale cinnamon rolls that had just come out of the oven. Then she turned the roll over to see a crisp black scorch on the base. “It looks like we took them out just in time though?”

“They’re pale on the top and burnt in the bottom,” Rose whined, tapping the middle of one of the rolls experimentally. 

“Kind of line you Rose,” Sam laughed, patting her shorter girlfriend on the back. 

“Haha, at least they’re not hockey pucks like the last batch,” Rose grumbled. 

How they had let their teammates talk them into this, she didn’t know. What she did know was that cooking with you was way more fun than doing it with this bunch. At least with you everything turned out tasty in the end. And if she accidentally messed something up you always knew how to fix it. 

“Stop that,” Kelley swatted Alex’s hand away from the bowl of icing. “That’s unsanitary. Let us drizzle it on the rolls first and then you can clean the bowl.” 

“But then what are we gonna do with this caramel you insisted I stir?” Emily asked, looking up from the pot in front of her. 

“It’s for the next batch. You put it in the bottom before you bake,” Sam answered, beginning to roll out the next set of cinnamon rolls. 

“And technically, we didn’t insist you do anything Sonnet. We mentioned our idea to make caramel for the cinnamon rolls and you jumped up and said “I volunteer as tribute”” Rose grumbled. “You didn’t even let us suggest a recipe.”

“Which considering the success of the other recipes you picked, might have been a good idea,” Emily said, frowning slightly at the bubbling mixture in front of her. She was stirring but the bubbles weren’t going away like they did with pasta. Maybe because it was thicker? She stirred faster to compensate.  

“Hey guys, what are you-... oh shit,” You raced over to the stove, nearly barreling into Emily as you grabbed the practically overflowing pot of molten sugar and moved it off the heat, praying you had gotten to it before it was too late. You really didn’t want to have to explain to the trainers why you and Emily had third-degree burns if the pot exploded. 

You spun towards the group of older players, glaring at them. “Who let the child do the most dangerous job?” 

“Dangerous?!?” Kelley and Rose sputtered. Sam just blinked at you

You shook your head and pinched the space between your eyes. “If it crystallizes and you don’t take it off the heat it can explode. You don’t stir sugar,”  

“Oh. Well. At least there’s still icing?” Sam grabbed one of the better rolls and gave it a hearty helping of icing before handing it to you.

“What did you use, because Alex is vegan and she’s been eating it?” You narrowed your eyes at the offered plate, glancing sideways at a set of very pale rolls and a set that were very burnt and flat. 

“Flaxseed and applesauce instead of eggs and oat milk instead of milk. And margarine instead of butter.” Kelley said, automatically. She and her fiance had been making vegan substitutes for a while now, and while they might not have been traditional cinnamon roll ingredients, she knew the measurements by heart, so that’s what they had used. 

You bit your lip and squinted your eyes as you reached out and swiped a bit of frosting from on top of the bun and put it into your mouth. 

You gulped when the salty substance hit your tongue, trying and failing to conceal your wince after the flavor. Your girlfriends were a lot of things, but apparently good cooks wasn’t on that list. “Hey, what container was the powdered sugar that you used for this in?”

“Um, this one?” Kelley said, sliding you a container. 

Your eyes widened at the blue-lidded container. You had been experimenting for a new dish at the restaurant and had gotten a hold of some micro powder salt flour for it. You thought it would give the new cracker-jack-themed desert a better taste, and help to balance out all the sugar from the Caramel ice cream. 

“That’s not sugar,” you said weakly. 

Alex dipped her finger into the bowl and tasted it, gagging. “It’s salty!”

Sam frowned down at the plate in her hand. She hadn’t wanted to do this, to begin with, but the team had insisted. Assured her they knew what they were doing and that you would love the surprise. Instead, Emily had almost burnt down your kitchen and everything was a mess. 

“Is none of it alright,” Rose asked softly from behind you, her lip jutting out. 

You scanned the kitchen, looking from the still ominously bubbling ooze on the stove, to the cinnamon rolls so undercooked you could catch salmonella from them to the icing, then finally to a glass on the counter. You grabbed it and took a large swig of vanilla oat milk. 

“Your milk tastes great!” you said enthusiastically, as the others started laughing. 

Sam and Rose just wilted further. You sighed, wrapping your arm around your taller girlfriend and holding your hand out to Rose. “It’s the thought that counts guys. And I love the thought,” 

“That’s what your parents tell you when you give them shitty presents so you don’t feel bad,” Rose grumbled, and Sam nodded. 

You sighed, unable to keep your lips from tipping up in a smile. It was just. It was so bad it was funny. “Maybe next time start with something a little easier? I’d love some scrambled eggs and toast!”

 Sam sighed. “You hate eggs,” 

You laughed again. “But I love you, even if you two can’t cook,” 

You leaned up to kiss under Sam’s chin and over to Rose’s cheek. You loved them and would remind them that their skills were on the field. They should leave the kitchen stuff to you. 

[fictionalsownme]

drivers license (hawks x you)

summary: you and hawks broke it off a month ago, but your heart aches for him every single day. In one last attempt to get over him, you invite him over to come get the last of his stuff. 2k word count. enjoy!

warnings: lots of angst, ending is bittersweet/open ended. no pronouns used for reader, mostly for practice so editing is light ^^". swearing, arguing, mutually responsible break up. starts with a bit of a text wall about your broken heart :,I

You saw him everywhere. In the empty couch cushions. In the bare shoe rack. In the dusty balcony railing. In your cold hands. In the cold sheets.

You mourned him like the deceased. Seeing his smile on the news was like seeing a ghost. But you knew he lived, every single day. He woke up every morning. He went to work. He went home. He was out there somewhere, even now, living his life alone. Just as you were. It was an obvious truth, but one you couldn’t fucking bear.

Sometimes you wondered if he thought of the last year like you did. If he stayed awake, freezing to the bone, burning in the darkness of the room you used to share.

Sometimes you’d convince yourself, of course. Of course he does. He told me he loved me. A month is nothing compared to the year we spent together. When you found these thoughts getting too loud, the urge to reach out almost too much, reality would fucking crush you. A new video with a fan would pop up online, or he’d do an interview on TV, or go to some stupid televised event. And there he’d be. Glowing.

You knew he was always stone in public, but if he loved you as much as he’d always told you, the pain would show, wouldn’t it? He’d be falling apart at the seams, like you were. His eyes would be swollen, his throat would be sore, he’d frown just once. But he was as he always was. Smug, beautiful, perfect.

You’d think this would help you move on. It didn’t. Seeing him fine made you question everything. It was obvious he didn’t love you anymore, but did he ever at all?

The past month had been agony whenever you were alone with your thoughts. You just wanted to forget him, to forget all this pain. If he didn’t love you anymore, you were determined to find some reprieve of your own. To move on.

The first step seemed to be getting the last of his things out and away. One of his hero jackets, his sweatpants, his reusable water bottle, all of it. Everything you’d clung to when things got too tough. You’d have to see him one last time, but you were determined to find closure. To say goodbye. To his things, and to him.

——

You agonized over the text forever. At one point it was a lengthy paragraph, at another, just a single word. After what felt like hours, you settled on something simple and polite, sending it before you could question the words again.

You left some things here. Come get them?

You clutched your phone to your chest while you waited for his response, curled up on the couch. With your gaze up at the ceiling, you lost track of time. You cringed when you felt your phone vibrate.

sure thing kid be there after shift

You dragged your hands down your face and took a shaky breath. You were terrified. That despite how many times you dried your eyes, he’d know you’d been crying. That despite how many times you washed his clothes, he’d know you’d been clutching them in your sleep. That he’d know just how broken he had left you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to get up, so you waited for him there on the couch. The sun was starting to set when you heard a knock at your balcony door. You lifted your head from it’s position over the back of the arm rest and met his eyes.

He stood on the other side of the glass, his hands in his pockets. His feathers twitched when your eyes met, but his face was blank… stoic.

You swallowed hard, throat feeling raw and dry. “It’s open!” Your voice cracked as it left your sore throat. You screwed up your lips at the sound. Hawks shuffled with his feet for a moment before sliding the door open.

He stepped in, seeming for once uncomfortable. He was in his hero uniform, looking exactly as you thought he would. You could almost feel his warmth from there.

“Um.” You sat up, giving an awkward sniff. “Your stuff, it’s-- It’s over here.” You pulled yourself up from the couch.

“Tttthanks…”

You couldn’t stop yourself from a dry laugh as you scooped the plastic bag of his things from by the front door. “It’s not like you to be so awkward, Hawks.” You extended it to him. “Something throwing you off?”

Smiling with him in your sights felt so familiar and sore. One of his classic smirks broke out on his lips, but it was paired with a heavy sigh. “C’mon, kid, don’t do me like that.”

“Like what?”

He sighed again. Then a soft, “Don’t be mean.”

Your smile dropped, heart sinking as you looked away. All at once the air changed, and everything was serious. Everything was raw.

He’d failed to take the bag from you, so it rubbed against the skin of your arm as you hugged yourself. You stayed quiet.

“You’re really ready for me to take everything?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t look him in the eyes. He’d know the truth if you did. Not even a little. Despite your best efforts, your breath grew shaky. You knew he noticed.

“Yeah. Don’t blame you, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a motion that made your heart pang. “Alright, kid. Whatever you want.” Your gaze moved on it’s own when you saw movement near the bookshelf by your TV.

A feather. Untucking itself from between two paperbacks. You audibly gasped as it flew towards you, stopping in front of your nose. Hawks plucked it from the air and twirled it in his fingers.

“Have…” Raspy and trembling. You tried again. “Have you been listening to me?”

“No. Just listening for louder stuff. Screams, glass breaking. Stuff like that.”

“Why?” You knew you sounded hurt, heartbroken, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“You gave back your necklace. And I couldn’t be here myself… so…”

You looked at him. From his creased brow, to the fidgeting with the feather in his fingers. He stared down at it. His feet shuffled. He swallowed.

“S… Stop it.” You managed. You took a step away.

“What?”

“You, you don’t get to do that, Keigo.” The use of his name made him flinch, but he didn’t look at you. He looked like a scorned kid.

“I was only listening for sounds for danger. Most of the time I’m not close enough to your place to hear quiet sounds if I wanted.”

“No. Not that. Why… Why are you upset? That’s not fair.”

He rolled his eyes before meeting your gaze. “Jesus, kid. You dumped me after a year and I’m not allowed to need a minute to adjust?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. You took another step away. “No! You- you didn’t love me.”

“What? Do you seriously fucking think that? You left me!” You hated when he yelled at you, even now.

“You, you—,” you sniffed as tears started rolling their way down your cheeks. Hawks was fierce, stern. His eyes glowed in the orange light of the setting sun. Completely beautiful. “You gave up on us! You didn’t want me anymore! You said so- you said the night everything happened!”

“What the fuck! When—”

“ And then! And then! We broke and you left and you were fine! I see you all the time, Keigo! Online, on TV, on the news, and you’re always so fine! You smile and you laugh and I’m stuck here and I’m always crying and so alone—!”

“Hold the fuck on!” You broke down into sobs, giving him a chance to speak as you rubbed endlessly at your eyes. “You seriously think just because I don’t break down in front of cameras that I’m not fucking destroyed over you!”

“You’re not—!”

“And the night I left, I left to cool off and you told me not to come back! That’s on you, kid! Don’t start shifting blame just because you can’t stand’ you shut the door on me!”

You opened your mouth to speak again, but he kept going.

“And seriously, kid! A year wasn’t long enough for you to get that I’m a fucking machine in front of the cameras? All I do in public is puke up the words they fed me, do the things they taught me! You know that!”

“Of course I do!” You hiccupped a sob. “But I was all alone, and- and, all I saw was you, and even as I fell completely apart, you were smiling! Do you have a-any idea what that’s like?! What else can I assume, when I feel so completely like nothing, and you’re so beautiful, but that you meant all those horrible fucking things you said to me! And that maybe you never loved me at all!”

He was quiet, but his chest was rising and falling with adrenaline. He seemed to not know what to say, so you waited. You wiped your eyes until they were surely red.

“Do you really think I never loved you, kid? That I don’t now?”

You gave a wry laugh. “Clearly you don’t remember the things you said to me.”

“I… No, I don’t. But you know what I do remember? I remember realizing I’d fucked up. I remember seeing your face, seeing I’d hurt you. And I remember kissing you and apologizing. And I remember telling you I needed a second and going for a flight. I remember being midair, reading the text that you sent me. Kid, you left me.”

He was crying now. He let the tears fall unacknowledged. Like maybe if he ignored them, they weren’t really there to betray his feelings,

“I-I know I got a lot of issues kid, but you know it too. And you know I was working on them, getting better. I’ve fucked up so many times, but you told me you’d always be there to help. Fuck, babe, we were supposed to be there for each other!”

You sobbed. You wanted to run away, to storm off. Maybe if this wasn’t happening at your place, you would’ve.

“I’m sorry, Keigo. I am. But you gave up on us too! You know I run away sometimes, but you let me! Not once did you even ask me to stay. Why… why didn’t you?”

He blinked at you, cheeks still wet with neglected tears. “I don’t know.” He shrugged, seeming so worn down. You believed him. He didn't know.

You sniffed and forced your hands away from your eyes. The plastic bag slid down from the bend of your elbow and you began to fiddle with the material of the handles. Though your lip refused to stop quivering. “So what happens now?”

You could feel his eyes on you.

“... Let’s try again.”

You met his gaze with a start. “Keigo, I—”

“Just hear me out, dove.” You did, watching his expression go equal parts loving and full of pain. “It’s obvious we’re still sore, but… I didn’t want to break up. It sounds like you didn’t either. Let’s take some time, take a break, feel better. And once we’re ready, come with me to dinner. It doesn’t have to be anything beyond dinner if you want, but… let’s just take it one step at a time, you know?”

When he took a step closer this time, you didn’t take one back.

You gut twisted. You missed him so much, but the things he’d said, and these past few weeks, they still hurt to think about. Keigo still hurt to think about. It sounded like he felt the same way.

While you thought, Keigo had snuck up on you. He threaded his fingers through yours and you flinched at the warmth of his hands. While you sucked in a shaky breath, his other hand sat the bag on the floor. He moved slow, like he was scared you’d run away.

“Keigo.” Your tears started up fresh. Your forehead pressed gently against his chest. The fur of his jacket tickled your cheek.

“I know, baby. I know.”

You swallowed hard as he wrapped his arms around you, your fingers pulling on his hero shirt.

“You don’t have to decide now. We’ve been through a fuckin’ lot. I know you’re still feeling a little raw. Take your time. I will, too. And then… just some dinner. See if we can make this mess make sense.” He laughed a little at that, but you knew he was still crying fresh tears.

You laughed too. Maybe, with some time, you could manage some dinner.

[bentforkent]

polaroid

spencer reid x gender neutral!reader

no content warnings (except sweet fluff and banter, as per usual)

word count: 1581

in which spencer is your cute roommate 

“spencer reid, i swear to god, if you don’t take out this trash like i asked you to two days ago, i might scream.”

“you’re screaming anyways, to be fair.”

you let out a frustrated groan, shaking your head at him and stalking to your room.

spencer was a great roommate, usually. he’d listed his guest room for rent years ago, and you, desperate for a space to call your own, had jumped. his apartment was nice, dark walls covered in organized clutter spencer had accumulated over the years. when you came to tour the space, you peered up at his walls. there were newspaper clippings, receipts, nightclub wristbands, polaroid photos, all organized into a neat grid.

“okay, i’ll take the room,” you said, deciding that a man who was this meticulous and sentimental couldn’t possibly murder you in your sleep.  you would’ve rented the room either way, honestly, the price of the place was too good to pass up. you figured that’s probably because not many people wanted to live with a random man, but you had chalked spencer up to be pretty much harmless. “under one condition,” you stated.

spencer was taken aback by this, not really believing you were in the position to put stipulations onto your agreement. “what’s your condition?” he inquired, choosing his words carefully so as not to promise you anything.

“i get to put some of my stuff up on the walls too.”

this he could get behind. at least you weren’t asking to completely overhaul his interior design. in fact, you embraced it, and wanted to be involved. he liked that. his last roommate had been somewhat of a recluse, and as much as spencer was okay with not being bothered, the roommate’s presence made his apartment feel significantly less like home.

but when you moved in, you never left him alone. spencer’s introverted nature means he should’ve been completely bothered by this. but you’re so warm, such a presence, that he embraced it. every time you begged him to watch a movie with you, go get dinner with you, or to just sit at the kitchen table with you while he did his paperwork, his heart stirred. he enjoyed living with you, and you him. except when he forgets to take out the trash.

“y/n,” he whines, following you. spencer, in all of his softness, can’t handle when you’re upset with him. “i’m sorry i didn’t take out the trash,” he says, pushing your door open and flopping onto your bed next to you.

you look up from your phone to glance at him.

“i would love to get takeout tonight, but we can’t because there’s nowhere to throw the containers away,” you say dryly, turning back to your phone, and carding one hand through his hair. he makes a noise of dissent and sticks out his bottom lip. you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger.  

“well i could go take it out now, but you’re playing with my hair,” he says. you scratch at his scalp gently, then remove your hand.

“go, then. i’ll order food. thai?”

when he comes back, you’re sitting on the rug of the living room, flicking through your dvd collection.

“wanna watch a movie?” you ask. “i’m picking.”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “i can’t remember the last time i picked, y/n.”

“yeah, you like boring movies.” you look up at him, and he gives you a pleading look. “fine. you can pick.”

he ends up picking some foreign movie you have to rent online. he promises profusely that he’ll translate in your ear the whole time, and that’s enough to sell you. when your food arrives, you place his meal on a plate like he likes it, and opt to eat yours out of the styrofoam box. you curl up against his side, and he wraps his arm around you.

“thanks for taking out the trash, finally,” you murmur. he shushes you. god forbid you interrupt his movie.

he begins to whisper translations to you, and you’re immediately tense. you’re overwhelmed. his arm is around you, his lips brushing against your ear, his hand in your hair. and spencer’s just your roommate, you know this. but that doesn’t mean he’s not attractive. anyone with eyes could see that. you just had to keep that to yourself, because you lived together and it would be weird if he ever found out you had a tiny crush on him.

okay, a big crush on him.

you discovered your feelings for spencer a few months ago when the two of you had spent the night at a hotel for the weekend, simply because spencer was off of work and you wanted to lounge by the pool with him. both of you needed to relax, and a mini-vacation had been perfect. there was only one bed in the room, because you booked the smallest (and cheapest) room possible, but neither of you were phased. you’d spent the night in each other’s beds multiple times before, usually after a particularly long, deep conversation or a movie night.

“do you think god exists?” you asked, lying in bed with him.

“oh my god, go to sleep, y/n,” spencer groaned. you pouted, turning away from him and hiking the blanket up to your chin.

a beat passes.

“do you want to go explore?” you asked. there was always something exciting about finding a weird room in a hotel you’d never been to before.

spencer let out a heavy sigh and sat up, flicking the lamp on. “no, y/n.” you knew he was irritated with you. it was 3 am, but you just couldn’t sleep. his dark circles were pronounced, his shoulders tense. “how can i help you right now?” he asked.

“you don’t want to help me, you just want to go to sleep,” you said petulantly, back still turned to him.

“if i help you, i can fall asleep, because you won’t be bothering me with all your questions,” he replied, voice low and gravelly.

“no, turn the lights off.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“leave me alone, i’m trying to sleep, spencer.”

spencer was too tired to argue with you, so he turned off the light and laid back down, desperate for sleep. it took all of two minutes for you to open your mouth again.

“spencer?”

he didn’t answer, but you knew he was awake from the pattern of his breathing.

“spencer,” you said again, dragging out the word in a sing-songy tone and flipping to face him.

he opened his heavy eyes and gazed at you. “shut up and go to sleep,” he said, and punctuated his sentence with a firm kiss to your lips. you were stunned into silence by the action. satisfied, spencer turned away from you and promptly fell asleep. you didn’t say another word until morning, and even then, neither one of you brought it up, falling back into your normal relationship with ease.

as you’re watching spencer’s russian movie, he can tell you’re on edge. he intentionally brushes his lips against your earlobe just to watch you squirm. didn’t you know he’s a profiler? he’s had you figured out for years. he knows all your tells. he knows that you’re head-over-heels for him. he likes this, because he feels the same way. spencer takes pleasure in bothering you simply because it gives him power that he doesn’t generally have with you. you’re so headstrong, so sure of yourself. but when his breath is fanning over your neck, he’s in control.

you pull away from his grasp suddenly, accidentally flinging a bit of pad thai across the couch. he chuckles, and you narrow your eyes at him at the sound. “you’re doing this on purpose!”

“doing what on purpose?” he says coyly.

“getting me all hot and bothered!”

“is that what’s happening?” he asks, a teasing tone to his voice. he sets his plate down on the coffee table, but you hold your takeout container to your chest as if it creates a barrier between you and him. your eyes are wide, and again, you’re surprised into silence.

“when are you gonna admit it, y/n?” he asks. if this were a normal conversation between the two of you, you would ask him “admit what,” but you knew what he was talking about.

“you’re mean,” you say simply, placing your meal down and crawling over to him. “you win. kiss me now.”

he cups your face gently and pulls you into a deep kiss. there’s no hesitation before you’re kissing him back, moving closer to straddle his waist. he moans softly into your mouth, and you take his parted lips as an invitation to deepen the kiss. your hands find their way into his hair, tugging softly. for all of his cockiness earlier, you’re in control now. he’s putty in your hands. his hands reach the hem of your shirt, and he pulls away to ask you for permission.

“wait!” you exclaim. you clamber out of his lap, grabbing his polaroid camera off of the shelf where he keeps it. he gives you a questioning look, but you shake your head. “smile, spence,” you sing. he grins. he looks happy. his lips are swollen, you note, but you think only you would notice. his eyes are honey colored, illuminated by the forgotten tv playing across from him. you snap the picture, and pin it to the wall.  

(author’s note: if you’re reading this and you liked it, read my series to the moon and to saturn!)

[rkived]

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 03 | JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader 

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) time jumps, mention of divorce, blood mention ((but like nothing serious)), forced kisses, just sad stuff like this is sad guys lol

↳ WORD COUNT: 8.6k

↳ EXCERPT: ‘‘Jungkook doesn’t want to think this is the end, maybe it’s that stupid voice inside his head that always holds on to things that he knows he should let go of. But he can’t just let go of this and move on. He doesn’t remember what life was like before you and he sure as hell does not want to know what it’ll be like without you.’’

↳ A/N: getting this chapter out has been ((a pain in the ass)) tough !! & cp was supposed to end with this chapter but that was not realistic at all lmao but i do hope u like this n i’ll try to get pt4 quickly as possible <3 thx

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 

‘‘Okay everyone, let’s switch to the upward facing dog!’’

You really don’t want to be here. There’s a lot of stuff running through your head right now that are more important than focusing on yoga positions. You wish you were thinking about grocery shopping or paying that month’s bills. 

Instead, you’re still stuck on the downward facing dog as your mind tells you you’re an idiot, a homewrecker and most importantly, a terrible friend. 

‘‘Y/N, upward facing dog!’’ The instructor, Namjoon, reminds you with a gentle smile as he notices you haven’t switched positions like the rest of the class. You nod and smoothly place your body as he had taught in the classes before.

The only reason why you came to your Saturday morning yoga class was because even with all that happened last night, you wanted to feel a sense of normality. Like you’re capable of going on about your life like nothing had happened.

That’s selfish and stupid because as much as you tried, every single moment since you woke up revolved around last night.

From the moment you opened your eyes, noticing Sunhi wasn’t sleeping next to you, snuggled into your chest like you had last remembered her to be before she fell asleep and you following soon after. 

And as your heart beat faster at the thought of finding her in her dad’s arms instead, watching Saturday morning cartoons on the T.V in your living room; you instead found the place neat and tidy. The messy pillows on your couch where placed like they hadn’t even been moved to begin with, like no one besides you had been in the apartment the night before. 

Somehow he managed to do all of this without you even noticing. You wondered at what time he woke up, cleaned up, took Sunhi without making any fuss and left, all before your 7 AM alarm could wake you up.

He even made you breakfast too. Some eggs, bacon and toast. 

‘‘Y/N, your legs are touching the mat.’’ Namjoon notes as he stands in front of you, ‘‘Let’s focus, okay?’’

You nod once again, though this time a little more embarrassed. If only you could explain to your instructor why you’re so distracted. 

No messages either. No text explaining why he had to leave so early. No sticky note placed on your fridge door about how he made you breakfast. No slight shake to your sleeping body to let you know that he’d be taking Sunhi. Nothing. 

Would’ve you liked that, though? 

You could say yes because he’s your friend and it’s only fair since you took care of his daughter the night before. 

But it’s not right, because friends don’t kiss each other, let alone the way you had let him kiss you and touch you while his daughter slept in your room and his wife waited for both of them at home.

There was a war going on inside you between your brain and your heart. 

Your heart, being a weak ass bitch, was telling you about how exciting everything was. How nice it felt to have Jungkook tell you that he wanted to be with you, that he no longer felt happy with his wife, how perfectly his lips encaptured your own and how you could still feel them on you. 

But your brain, obviously being the logical one between the two, reminded you about how wrong it was. You had never wanted to be placed in a position of being ‘‘the other woman’’. That even though you might not like Jiwoo and had spent years hoping your friend would someday wake up and realize this too, this didn’t feel right. 

‘‘Alright, let’s drink some water now.’’ Namjoon announces, clasping his hands together and showing off that dimple that most ─if not all─ of the students went heart eyes over. 

You take the time to check your phone instead, you don’t need the water because you didn’t do shit anyway. There’s no text from Minji, who you’re scared will somehow, by the grace of everything that’s holy, find out about what you did. No text from Jungkook either and you’re wondering why he hasn’t bothered to send one. 

Instead, there’s a text from Taehyung and you mutter a curse. 

[8:34 AM] Taehyung: hey y/n! i’m sure you’re in your yoga class rn but i wanted to see if maybe you’d be up for lunch at my place? i’ll try and cook something nice :) 

Ah, of course that throughout all of this you forgot about Taehyung. 

The sweet guy who had stuck around only for you to pay him back by kissing your best friend, the one Taehyung had to pretend wasn’t bothered by his interruption that night a few weeks ago. 

God, you do have a way to fuck things up for yourself. 

You don’t know how long you stood there thinking what to reply to him, but it definitely was for a few minutes because you only came back to reality once you heard your name being called once by the instructor.

‘‘Y/N,’’ Namjoon repeats and you look over at him with a puzzled look, ‘‘we’re starting again, if you’d like to join us.’’ There’s that smile again. Bless his patience, you wonder if he’s actually this calm because of yoga or he’s just really good at pretending. 

You look back down at your phone, the screen displaying a text that’s still waiting to be replied to. 

‘‘I uhm─I gotta go, sorry.’’ You quickly reply, making Namjoon look at you with wide eyes, but he makes no effort to stop you either. 

And as quickly as you can, you collect your belongings before you’re heading out the door without saying goodbye. 

Either you quit yoga altogether or just apologize to Namjoon like a grownup next Saturday. Whatever it is, you’re not thinking about what decision to make about your little extracurricular right now. 

There’s only so much you can handle at a time.

Jungkook is lucky that Jiwoo works Saturday mornings because with her away, he’s able to enter his house without having to sneak in. 

He opens the door wide, making way for him and a slightly awake Sunhi in his arms. He drops the keys on the counter without caring about the noise it makes. He doesn’t even have to pretend like he’s walking on glass, his boots are allowed to hit the wooden floor without a care in the world. 

The place doesn’t look much different from what he had left it like the day before. There’s only a dirty glass on the sink, a product of Jiwoo’s daily breakfast smoothies and since she’s always in a rush she never has time to clean it up. 

‘‘Are you still sleepy, pumpkin?’’ he quietly asks his daughter and she nods, he doesn’t blame her since he’s the one who woke her up at 6 AM. ‘‘Alright, I’ll take you to your bed,” he says, a kiss on her head following shortly after. 

He wonders if Jiwoo enjoyed herself last night. No daughter and no husband, sounds like an ideal night for her. It’s not like she was worried about their whereabouts either, considering she hadn’t even bothered to text him wondering why they hadn’t come home. 

If Jungkook’s supposed to feel guilty, he isn’t. 

He’s heard stories before about how there’s a voice in your head constantly reminding you about what you did and how wrong it is. That he’ll be unable to sleep knowing he cheated on his wife while she lies next to him. That he won’t be able to look at her again without feeling remorse all over him.

And when Jiwoo returns home at noon, there’s none of that at all. He offers her a nod of acknowledgement once she enters the living room to find him sitting with his laptop, watching through old videos that he took years back. 

She puts her index finger up, telling him to give her a minute. She’s on a phone call with a friend of hers that Jungkook can only conclude is Hyeri, who he probably met at some point but can’t remember what her face looked like. 

‘‘I know! Like, why do you have to be such a bitch about it? We get that you’re sucking the boss’s dick in private, so you might as well─’’

Jiwoo’s voice is too distracting and so, Jungkook places his earphones in to hear what this video’s audio is about. Once he does, he hits play and the audio is loud enough to drown out Jiwoo’s whining. 

‘‘Guess who came to see you, Pumpkin?’’ 

Jungkook gasps as he remembers this was part of a series of videos he was supposed to show Sunhi once she was old enough to understand them. He recorded a few until he was drowning in work to even grab his camera again. It saddens him that he wasn’t able to continue.

He decides he’ll show them to her later because right now Sunhi is too busy playing with her dolls inside her room to even pay attention to him.

‘‘It’s auntie Y/N! And she came bearing gifts,’’ Jungkook smiles, switching the focus on you ‘‘is that a Fisher Price Taco Tuesday toy set that I see?’’ he wonders in a fake curious tone as you look at him with narrowed eyes ‘‘I wonder how she knew you wanted that, Sunhi. It’s not like your dad had it on his Amazon wishlist or anything.’’

‘‘Very funny.’’ You mumble, handing him the toys so you could go ahead and grab a tiny three-month-old Sunhi from the bed ‘‘Aren’t you the cutest little bean in this entire world? Aren’t you?’’ you coo at the little girl, who looks at you with wide eyes and you’re forced to blink a couple of times because she looks just like him. 

‘‘Of course she is, she’s my spitting image!’’ Jungkook confirms your thought as he grabs Sunhi’s cheek gently with his fingers and squeezes, making the baby giggle.

You side-eye him and then focus your attention back on the baby in your hands, ‘‘No, you’re not, Sunhi. Your daddy is not cute at all.’’ 

‘‘You’re gonna make me put this camera down and have a discussion about this.’’ 

Jungkook chuckles at the footage, noticing how he made you smile because of his comment. The video isn’t long, it’s mostly you cooing to a then tiny Sunhi, giggling at the way you would nuzzle your nose into her belly as Jungkook laughed behind the camera. 

‘‘Jungkook, look at her!’’ You practically squeal as Sunhi grabs your thumb with her little hand ‘‘Oh my gosh, I think I’m gonna cry.’’ 

He laughs as he does a close-up of his daughter holding on to your finger, until he hears the little sniffle you let out and the camera is now focused on you silently wiping a tear away. 

‘‘Wait, you’re actually crying?’’ Jungkook asks in disbelief and you turn to look at him to find the lens focused on you ‘‘Sunhi, you’re Auntie Y/N loves you so much that she’s crying! How cute.’’ 

‘‘You’re so dumb, seriously.’’ you mumble with a frown, going back to gawking at the baby still holding on to your thumb. 

Jungkook sighs, ‘‘I’m gonna have to bleep that out, y’know?’’

You laugh and shrug your shoulders, caressing Sunhi’s stomach. Jungkook whispers ‘cute’, so soft that you’re unable to hear it.

Once it ends, Jungkook is able to see his smiling face as it reflects on the black screen and it’s only then he realized he’d been grinning the whole time. Now his ears are filled with Jiwoo talking over the phone and his smile goes back to a straight line. 

Jungkook closes the video and clicks on the next one, hoping that it’s one that involves you as well. He’s unable to press play because Jiwoo is suddenly standing in front of him, arms crossed and she’s no longer talking on her phone. 

‘‘Yes?’’ He asks, removing an earbud to show her she has his full attention.

‘‘So, where were you last night?’’ 

Jungkook’s slightly surprised that she cares. He tends to forget there’s still some humanity left in her after all, ‘‘At Y/N’s.’’ he answers with a shrug, eyes going back to stare at the screen of his laptop. 

Jiwoo scoffs and he’s forced to look at her again, eyebrow slightly raised. He hopes she doesn’t start because it’s too early and it’s a Saturday. But Jiwoo doesn’t like taking breaks like he does.

‘‘I thought you said that she wasn’t going to be able to take care of Sunhi on Fridays.’’ There’s bitterness in her tone, ‘‘so, what were you doing there?’’ 

Jungkook understands where Jiwoo’s curiosity comes from, but it’s strange. She’s never been the type to ask where he’s been, what he’s doing with Sunhi while she’s not around ─which is practically all the time─ and doesn’t care for your business either. 

‘‘I just stopped by.’’ Jungkook mutters, stroking the nape of his neck in an attempt to not seem suspicious, ‘‘We hung out and Sunhi fell asleep, she didn’t wanna come back home.’’ 

And that’s true, Jiwoo narrows her eyes at him as if she’s debating whether or not to believe him and the excuse of their sleeping daughter. She doesn’t know Sunhi that well to conclude if it’s possible or not. 

‘‘And what, did you all three sleep together in the same bed? Playing family, maybe?’’ 

Jungkook looks at her in disbelief. This is a first. 

‘‘What?’’ Is all he’s able to muster because he’s genuinely shocked at her accusation. 

Jiwoo rolls her eyes, ‘‘Oh, please. Like I’m going to buy that hanging out bullshit.’’ Jungkook looks like a deer stuck in headlights and she chuckles, ‘‘Is what I give to you not enough?’’ 

‘‘I─what are you on about?’’ 

He figures this is her picking a fight because he wasn’t around yesterday to attend her needs like he usually does every Friday night. But Jungkook’s mind is quick to remind him of what he did and it’d be really ironic if he denies Jiwoo’s accusations, that for the first time are actually true. 

‘‘I carried around that girl for nine months, ruined my body because of her, all for you to pick someone else over me?’’ Jiwoo’s voice is raised a little higher and Jungkook can’t help but look over at Sunhi’s bedroom door and hope his daughter is not listening to anything coming from the living room. ‘‘I knew I should’ve never trusted her, I always knew your friendship with her was fucking weird.’’

Jungkook doesn’t want to raise his voice either. It’s not going to get them anywhere. But he can’t stand the way she’s speaking about his daughter and you, she’s never crossed those boundaries before. 

‘‘Are you insane? How can you talk about your daughter like she’s nothing?’’ Jungkook spats out, ‘‘I’ve always been thankful for what you did, I know the shit you went through to bring her into this world.’’ 

But Jiwoo doesn’t care about how loud she’s being, ‘‘You’re so thankful you pay me back by fucking your best friend? While I’m alone over here waiting for you to come back?’’

Jungkook has to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a second, before he loses it. 

He clears his throat, ‘‘Jiwoo, I have always chosen you. Always. I did back when I was a sophomore, I did it when I asked you to marry me, and I did it when I chose you to be the mother of my children. So, I don’t know what─’’

‘‘I don’t give a flying fuck if you chose me! I was supposed to be all of that either way, Jungkook.’’ She interjects.

Was she, though? Of course, she was his girlfriend then. It would make sense that she’d be the one to end up marrying him, having his kids and living the happy life everyone guaranteed he’d live alongside her. 

But he hasn’t been thinking about the choices he ended up taking back then. Instead, he’s been wondering about the ‘what if’s and Jiwoo isn’t in any of them. 

Jungkook’s been daydreaming for months now about how different his life would’ve turned out if he had never asked the pretty girl in his class all those years back and instead had focused his attention somewhere else. Or someone else.. 

‘‘Are you going to answer me?’’ Jiwoo’s stern voice brings him back to the reality he hates, ‘‘Were you going to pick me or was I a second choice?’’ She slowly asks, giving him an opportunity to digest every single word she spoke. 

‘‘You weren’t a second choice,’’ he mumbles and his gaze has faltered and instead focused back on the screen of his laptop. Clicking on a video randomly, trying to distract himself from the situation at hand. Hoping that whatever he says is enough for Jiwoo to leave him alone. 

It doesn’t help that the video automatically plays and it’s you on the first frame, a big smile as you hold Sunhi towards the camera, making her wiggle in your arms. 

What if. 

‘‘Show me that you love me, then.’’

The video still plays as Jungkook looks back at Jiwoo standing right in front of him, her arms are still crossed, but the look on her face is different. Her brows are no longer furrowed and Jungkook might be wrong, but he thinks her eyes look glossy. 

He doesn’t act quickly enough and she takes the laptop from him, closing it before she can even notice what is it that has garnered his attention. Jiwoo straddles his lap and he jumps slightly at the action, placing her arms around his neck as she looks at him with innocent eyes. 

If he didn’t know her, he would’ve believed them. 

‘‘Jiwoo, let’s not─’’ 

‘‘I missed you yesterday,’’ she interjects in a whisper ‘‘show me that you love me right now.’’ 

Her lips latch onto his neck, biting and sucking on the skin as he tries to wriggle himself out of her hold, but her hands push at his chest so he can stay still. 

‘‘C’mon,’’ she mumbles ‘‘show me.’’ She’s pleading by then.

He feels nothing. There’s no electricity in Jiwoo’s kisses. No tingles on his back, no goosebumps on his skin, no fireworks going off. If anything, everytime her lips meet his skin it feels bitter, like they don’t belong there at all. 

‘‘Daddy, come please!’’ The muffled voice of Sunhi inside her room interrupts the one-sided moment and Jungkook is silently thanking her. 

Jiwoo doesn’t make an effort to move as she keeps kissing on all the exposed skin he has to offer. Jungkook sighs in frustration as he forces her off him, making her land beside him with an astonished expression.

Her hands tighten into fists as she looks at him like he’s gone insane, ‘‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’’ She asks in disbelief.

Jungkook blinks, ‘‘Did you─?’’ He gestures with his finger over to his daughter’s room, ‘‘Sunhi is calling me.’’ 

His wife scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest again, ‘‘Of course, you always go running when it comes to her.’’ 

Contrary to his belief, there is no humanity left in Jiwoo at all. She’s just really good at pretending like she cares so she can get her way. This is the last time Jungkook falls for this trick.

Jungkook opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He repeats this action a few times, to stammer something out. Anything. But there’s nothing besides the expecting silence of his wife as she chuckles incredulously. Jungkook ignores this and turns around, a second away from opening Sunhi’s bedroom door─

‘‘You’re a waste of a husband.’’ Jiwoo sneered. 

His hand drops from the door handle and he sighs, taking a deep breath in and out.

He looks back at her, ‘‘You know what, Jiwoo? I wasn’t lying when I said you weren’t my second choice.’’ he informs and her eyebrow raises up ‘‘But you aren’t my first choice now either.’’

Jiwoo scowls and heaves in anger, ready to let hell loose on him ‘‘I knew that who─’’

‘‘It’s Sunhi,’’ he states and Jiwoo closes her mouth before she can even finish her sentence. ‘‘Ever since I knew you were pregnant with her, she’s been at the top of my list and she’ll always be there. I don’t care what you do or say to me, I really don’t. You don’t love me, Jiwoo.’’

At the accusation, her eyes soften and she’s standing up to argue that it’s not true, but Jungkook raises his hand in a motion to stop her. 

‘‘You don’t love me and I don’t love you.’’ 

Jungkook expected her to start yelling at him like she usually did, but Jiwoo’s rendered speechless on her spot as she stares at him, blinking rapidly. 

‘‘I don’t love you,’’ he repeats ‘‘and I haven’t loved you for a while now. I don’t remember the last time my heart raced up when I saw you or when I stopped enjoying kissing you. And I’m sorry, because I should’ve told you instead of pretending like I did.’’ 

Jiwoo’s motionless as she takes all of his words in. 

‘‘But I did it for her because I didn’t want her to hate me if you ever left. But that was a dumb idea because you don’t care about Sunhi. And frankly, I doubt she cares about you either. She never speaks about you, never asks about you, she’s used to you not being here even if you sort of are.’’ 

Jungkook places his hand over the doorknob once again and Jiwoo grimaces.

‘‘I should’ve never begged you to come back. I should’ve thought about what you wanted and it’s always been clear to me what that is,’’ Jungkook swallows the knot he feels in his throat ‘‘and it’s never been Sunhi or me.’’

‘‘Jungkook.’’

He thinks she’s about to tell him how sorry she is. That she’ll recognize how heartless she’s been and how she not only failed him, but failed their daughter too. Maybe beg for a final try at their relationship as she promises she’ll change this time. 

Jungkook hums and spares her one last glance.

Jiwoo has a stoic expression on her face and she speaks under her breath, but clear enough for him to hear, ‘‘Sign the papers when you get them.’’

You expect Minji to just jump at you any minute now because if looks could kill, you’d be dead already. Maybe you should’ve pretended like you weren’t home and let Minji knock on your door until she’d give up, but even you knew better than that. 

It was better to face her now than to deal with her accumulated wrath later.

‘‘When were you going to tell me?’’ She suddenly asks and it takes you by surprise because it had been way too silent since you had let her in.

Minji works like a predator, she attacks when you least expect it and right now you definitely feel like you’re about to be eaten. 

‘‘I─uh…’’ 

She sighs and you can see the disappointment in her face, ‘‘Were you going to tell me at all?’’ 

You nod instead, not trusting yourself enough to speak at the moment. 

It had been a week since the event in your living room and it makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair as you stare at your friend, who’s sitting on the couch where everything went down. 

‘‘Then why did I have to find out through Taehyung?’’ She asks in a disappointed tone. 

You figured he’d tell her. It’s not like you asked him not to do so, but you had silently prayed that the universe was on your side on this one and by some unknown reason they wouldn’t bump into each other at work and Minji, like she usually did, wouldn’t ask him about you. Because if she did, then he’d have to explain how you had broken the news that you had made out with your best friend; the one Minji despised with her soul. 

A sigh escapes your lips as you lower your head with shame.

You were supposed to tell her, but every time you took your phone and tried to dial or text her, your nerves got the best of you and ended up chickening out, promising that you’d do it the next day. Then the next day. And the next day. 

It’s not like you’re scared of Minji─well, maybe only slightly. But you know the effort she put into getting you to go out and meet someone new, someone that’s not married and not a father. She’s known Taehyung for so long, probably even told him how much of a good girl you were to convince him to take you out, only for you to end up throwing all of that in the trash like it was nothing. 

Minji’s also spent years pushing you to move on from your friendship with Jungkook. Not just because she doesn’t like him, but because she’s always felt like he’s held you back while he’s made his way in life. You’ve stuck behind him making sure that he’s okay and happy, forgetting about yourself in the process. 

‘‘I’m not angry at you,’’ she speaks softly, making you look up at her with surprise. ‘‘I just─He gave you a second chance, Y/N. Why did you say no?’’ Her words are laced with curiosity and you know that she’s asking because even Taehyung wasn’t able to give her an answer to this question. 

Your bottom lip trembles and you’re trying your hardest not to burst into tears in front of him. You can’t and you won’t. How even dare you to do that? 

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ you whisper and your eyes shift down to the wooden floor of his apartment. ‘‘I’m sorry, Taehyung.’’ You repeat, knowing it’s not enough.

Taehyung gulps and his crossed arms quickly fall to his sides as he realizes that, whatever anger he felt when you told him about what you did, was no longer there the moment he saw how genuinely apologetic you looked. 

‘‘I’m an idiot, I know.’’ You continue, rubbing your clammy hands into the material of your leggings and it does nothing to dry them. ‘‘I’m sorry, Taehyung.’’

He knows he shouldn't be so easily swayed by your apology, but he can’t help but want to cradle you in his arms. And when he does, your eyebrows raise in surprise as you gasp because you weren’t expecting this. 

You expected anger, insults thrown out about how you’re a slut and being kicked out of his apartment with him telling you to never contact him again. 

Taehyung’s still sweet even when his heart is getting broken. 

‘‘It’s okay,’’ he whispers into your hair as one of his hands runs up and down your back ‘‘we can work this out, yeah?’’ 

You bite the tip of your tongue as you take his words in, feeling your heart speeding up even faster than what it was when you spilled everything out on him. Maybe you would’ve preferred him getting angry than his current reaction.

‘‘It’s not like we were exclusive, right?’’ Taehyung chuckles, but it feels like he’s convincing himself that that was the reason as to why it happened. ‘‘Let’s forget it, seriously.’’

A shaky sigh comes out of your mouth as your arms, that hadn’t reciprocated his hug, gain the strength to separate yourself from him. He looks taken aback, but he’s waiting for you to reply in agreement because, yes, you could work this out if you try hard enough. 

But that’s not realistic. Pretending like you never kissed Jungkook is not realistic at all, because it’s sad to admit that you won’t be able to kiss Taehyung again without thinking about your best friend in the back of your head as you’re reminded that not only did you let him kiss you, but you reciprocated and not only did you reciprocate, but you liked it a little too much. 

‘‘Y/N,’’ he speaks up, snapping you from your thoughts,‘‘please, let’s just try.’’ He silently asks─no, begs. 

The barking of his dog, Yeontan, startles you as you come to stare at the little dog at the feet of his owner, who at the moment isn’t interested to see what he wants. You never told Taehyung, but the teacup pomeranian was extremely overprotective of him. 

He’s barking at you like you’re hurting his owner and maybe you aren’t physically doing any damage, but you know that you’re about to break his heart all over again.

‘‘I-I…,’’ you blink as you try to focus on the man in front of you and not the dog on the ground, ‘‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’’ 

Yeontan’s barks increase and Taehyung is at a loss for words to beg you to stay and talk things through. You can still hear the dog’s incessant barking as you make your way down the hall and that’s when the tears you were holding finally fall down. 

‘‘Taehyung’s a nice guy, Y/N. He forgave you and you just left?’’ Minji asks, disbelief in her tone. ‘‘I thought you liked him.’’

‘‘I do!’’ You finally speak up. You’re sure of it, you like Taehyung. Your friend gives you a puzzled look because she really can’t understand you right now. ‘‘I like Taehyung, I really do,’’ you mutter, ‘‘but it’s not fair to him.’’ 

Minji scrunches her face up because there’s only one reason you’re thinking that way. She’s tired of this narrative, it’s old and overdone and it should’ve ended years ago.

She lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘You love him, don’t you?’’ Another question that takes you by surprise.

‘‘No, I just─’’

Minji holds her finger up, interrupting you, ‘‘I’m talking about Jungkook.’’ 

This is the attack. Not the other questions she had asked you regarding her old family friend. Not the unannounced arrival to your apartment on an uneventful Saturday morning where you had chosen to stay in bed instead of facing the peaceful yoga instructor. Not the glaring looks she had been giving you for the last minutes.

And if you weren’t ready for any of those, this one definitely takes the prize. 

‘‘I-I of course I love him,’’ you mumble, ‘‘he’s my friend.’’

Minji smirks as her eyebrows raise, ‘‘No, I’m asking if you’re in love him.’��� 

You’re sure that the feelings that you’ve had for Jungkook have always been platonic. You do love him because he’s your friend and you’re supposed to love your friends. But you know that the love that you have for him is very different from the one you have for anyone else. It might be the history between you two. You’ve been with him through it all, cheering from the sidelines as he accomplishes one milestone after the other. 

‘‘Be honest with me,’’ Minji demands, ‘‘are you in love with Jungkook?’’ she asks once again.

Your eyes well up and your bottom lip is trembling as you look back at your intimidating best friend because your silence is deafening and you’re expecting her to throw the last blow. You think you deserve it. Minji has so much she wants to say, but you look so dejected and she figures that you might’ve just realized it. 

‘‘Hey, it’s okay.’’ She comes up to you quickly, crouching down as she looks up at the tears rolling down your reddened cheeks. ‘‘Y/N, it’s okay.’’ 

You’ve been trying to tell yourself the same thing the past few days. 

It’s okay that you kissed your best friend. It’s okay that you’ve slowly and silently started harbouring feelings for him. It’s okay that you just realized you’ve been in love with him for a while now. It’s okay that you’ve been resenting the fact that he didn’t choose you all those years ago. It’s okay that you take care of and love his daughter like she’s yours. 

But...

‘‘No, it’s not.’’ You cry, ‘‘I can’t do that, Minji, he’s not mine to have.’’ 

Your mind quickly brings you back to the harsh reality, which is that Jungkook will never be yours. He probably only kissed you because he was looking for something that was capable of exciting him again after realizing how bored of his marriage he is. He doesn’t love you like that, he’ll never love you like that.

Minji can’t disagree with what you just said, but she also feels like right now is not the time to make you feel even worse when it’s obvious you’re already there. 

‘‘I blocked his number, anyway.’’ You mumble out, wiping away your tears. 

Your friend’s eyes widened at the revelation, ‘‘What?’’. 

‘‘I freaked out after I talked to Taehyung because I felt so guilty and you know how I don’t know how to deal with shit ever, so I just─’’ You stop yourself from rambling and sigh as you feel Minji’s hand squeezing your knee as a sign of comfort, ‘‘I can’t see him again without thinking about it. I can’t take care of Sunhi knowing he’s going home to sleep with Jiwoo. I just can’t keep pretending anymore.’’ 

Minji can’t do much after that, you’ve become a sobbing mess and the tears seem unstoppable. She’s never seen you like this and it dawns on her that you’ve held all of this in for way too long. 

It’s ironic because she’s always told you that you need space from Jungkook, thinking it’d be good for you to finally realize that you’re not part of his list of priorities anymore and hadn’t been for a long time. 

But she hadn’t taken into account what the after effects of not having him in your life anymore would look like.

[12:03 PM] Jeon Jungkook: hi y/n 

{Error: Undelivered!} 

[12:04 PM] Jeon Jungkook: hey???

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[12:07 PM] Jeon Jungkook: i wanted to see if you’d like to meet up for lunch one of these days? i feel like we need to talk 

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[5:13 PM] Jeon Jungkook: does this work now??

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Jungkook groans in annoyance as he finds another one of his texts left undelivered. It feels like life is either against him or doing this for his own good. 

Nonetheless, he wants to talk to you because it’s been a few days since he last saw and heard from you. He figures you’re mad, the last words you spoke to him didn’t sound friendly at all and he wonders if maybe leaving without saying goodbye that day was the right thing to do. 

The small snores coming from beside him make him realize Sunhi is finally asleep and he can’t help but let out a sigh of disappointment as he watches her curl into a fetal like position, clutching her Dumbo plush toy and slightly drooling into his favorite pillow, making him pout because he knows he won’t be able to pry it away from her when he decides to fall asleep too. 

Sunhi being fast asleep is supposed to bring peace to Jungkook’s tiring day, though the silence is extremely uncomfortable and these days he’s come to realize how much he rather have his daughter running around and yelling in excitement than this.

Complete and utter silence.

[7:13 PM] Jeon Jungkook: (1.jpg attached) sunhi misses auntie y/n!! she’s been asking me about you a lot 

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[7:15 PM] Jeon Jungkook: i miss auntie y/n more tho…

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[7:17 PM] Jeon Jungkook: i hope ur alright :)

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‘‘Pumpkin, you can stop smiling already.’’ Jungkook chuckles as he looks up from his phone, noticing his daughter still holding the big smile he had given him when he requested to take a picture of her to send to you. ‘‘I already sent the picture to Auntie Y/N.’’ He informs and she sighs with relief, massaging her cheeks from straining them too hard.

Though his eyebrows furrow, noticing his messages have once again been left undelivered. He makes a mental note to call the phone company soon, because it’s been over a week since he last sent the first messages and those remained in the same state as well. 

‘‘Daddy, unpause!’’ Sunhi demands, making him realize that he’s in the middle of showing her his favorite Pixar movie, Cars. 

Twenty minutes had passed and for a majority of them Sunhi had only watched attentively and Jungkook looked over at her every other second just to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep. Warmness spread throughout him as he noticed his daughter looking at the screen with those big doe eyes she had inherited from him. 

Once the scene where Sally shows Lightning McQueen around Radiator Springs, Jungkook feels a tug at his sweatshirt and looks down to notice Sunhi’s little hand grabbing at the fabric, her eyes are still glued to the screen.

“Auntie Y/N likes this too?” She asks and Jungkook chuckles because his daughter can’t stop thinking about his friend even when doing anything completely unrelated to you.

Maybe that’s another thing she inherited as well.

[7:03 PM] Jeon Jungkook: so i called my phone company and asked them abt why my messages aren’t being delivered and they said that you must’ve blocked me

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[7:04 PM] Jeon Jungkook: yeah i guess you did

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Jungkook’s mind has gone blank ever since he got off the phone with the cellphone company. 

The idea that you might’ve blocked his number had not once crossed his mind during the weeks of undelivered texts and phone calls sent straight to voicemail. It was obvious, but he didn’t think you’d be capable of doing it. 

He wanted it to be a network issue or something else that he could put blame on instead of facing the realization that you had shut him out from your life. And that thought hurt, no─stung him. 

The worst part is that he knows he deserves it. It was foolish of him to think that you had enjoyed the kiss too. Dumb enough to believe that you might’ve reciprocated the way he felt. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to think this is the end, maybe it’s that stupid voice inside his head that always holds on to things that he knows he should let go of. But he can’t just let go of this and move on. 

He doesn’t remember what life was like before you and he sure as hell does not want to know what it’ll be like without you.

[1:30 AM] Jeon Jungkook: i miss you so fucking much i’m sorry if i knew that kissing you would’ve fucked everything up htne i woudl’ve never done it y/n i’m sorry 

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[1:31 AM] Jeon Jungkook: i really wanted to kiss you but it was selfish of me to do it i didnt think about what you must’ve felt im sos sorry 

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[1:32 AM] Jeon Jungkook: sunhi’s been asking me about yoj and i dont even know what to say anymore

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[2:27 AM] Jeon Jungkook: i don’t even care if you dont wanna speak to me anymore i fucked this up for sunhi she loves you so much and you’re her favorite person ever and i ruined it for her just bc i wanted to see if you felt the same way as i do

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[3:50 AM] Jeon Jungkook: i miss you y/n i really do 

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“Daddy, lemme go!” Sunhi whines trying to escape from her father’s hands as he finishes applying the sunscreen on her arms, “Daddy!”.

He gives her a stern look and the toddler huffs, sticking her bottom lip out in an act of annoyance. The playground games are waiting for her and she feels like her dad is just coming between them and her.

“Alright,” he pats his big hands on her tiny arms, “you’re good to—“ Jungkook isn’t able to finish his sentence because his daughter’s already running towards one of the slides, “Sunhi, be careful!” He reminds her, but she’s too focused on the rides than on her dad’s warning.

Jungkook sighs and relaxes into the bench. 

“She’s precious,” She comments with a small smile as her attention focuses on the little girl having the time of her life going down the slide, “I’m surprised she’s yours.” 

Jungkook looks over at the woman beside him and scoffs, but he can’t help but agree. Sunhi is too good and too pure, the best thing he’s ever done in his life. 

“Yeah, well, it’s all her.” Jungkook admits, eyes focusing back on Sunhi, “She’s really great.” 

There’s an uncomfortable silence between them and Jungkook has to clear his throat to gain her attention. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t meet up at a café,” Jungkook apologizes and nods over at his daughter, “she’s been a little misbehaved lately, you said you wanted to talk to me and I figured that if I took Sunhi to a place like that she’d just—“

She interrupts his rambling, “Hey, it’s okay. I have no problem, really.” She assures him and he nods slightly, “I haven’t been in a place like this in a long time.” 

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck and glances over at the woman who’s looking at him with an expression he can’t quite pinpoint. It makes him so nervous that he quickly shifts his gaze to the ground.

“This is so weird.” He admits with an awkward chuckle and she raises her eyebrow, “I mean—you hate me, Minji, so I don’t know what you want to talk about.” 

“I don’t hate you!” Minji laughs and Jungkook finally looks at her and she falters, “Seriously! I only dislike you and that’s saying a lot.” 

He supposes that’s a good thing, considering how aggressive Minji used to be towards him back in college. Always letting him know how much she despised his guts, how he didn’t deserve to have you as his friend and even once threw a drink at his face during a party; though you swore to him she was drunk and that she didn’t mean it.

Jungkook hadn’t seen her much since, only a few times if it was your birthday and they managed to cross paths, because the girl made sure she was never in the same room as him. The times it happened, he felt like she was throwing daggers at him through her eyes. 

“It always bothered me how putty in your hands she was for you,” Minji begins, crossing her arms over her chest as she settles back into the bench, “and how oblivious you were about it.” 

Jungkook looks back at her and there’s a small smile on her face, most likely looking over at his daughter. 

“How when we got together for study sessions, she’d be tired because she was taking care of you the night before at one of those stupid frat parties you loved dragging her to.” Minji recalls and Jungkook feels like his mouth has gone dry from the memory.

She crosses one of her legs over the other, “Or that whole Jiwoo ordeal, how you had practically put Y/N aside once you managed to date the ‘campus hottie’.” She says with air quotes and Jungkook sighs, remembering the beginning of it all.

He knows that he can’t turn back time and change it all. Even if he could, he knows he wouldn’t. If there was no Jiwoo, there’d be no Sunhi. 

An excited yell startles him as he looks over at his daughter, swinging up and down. “Look, daddy! I'm flying!” She calls and he smiles at her. 

“Jesus, that’s fucking precious.” Minji mumbles, but he hears her nonetheless and nods in agreement. “Anyway, I’m not going to act like a saint here and pretend I was vouching for you, because I never did.” 

Jungkook knows. Back then he didn’t understand why Minji was so adamant about trash talking him to you, considering how he and her barely knew each other. Actually, whatever knowledge they had of the other was through of you. 

But Jungkook’s done a lot of self reflecting for the past month and a half and he’s realized why Minji disliked him so much. Or, dislikes. Either way, it’s valid.

“I just wanted her to snap out of it,” she confesses, “and realize that there is a life beyond you. That there’s more than being your best friend and your daughter’s babysitter. That she’s capable of moving on and putting you aside, because if you did that to her then why shouldn’t she?” 

Jungkook hadn’t thought about any of that at all. He had realized he had been a shitty friend, but the idea of just how much definitely hadn’t settled on him. He wishes you knew how much he’s cared about you, but that there were too many overlapping lines for him to ever express it.

“I thought that after setting her up with Taehyung she had finally realized it,” she continues “but you know how she is, she rarely lets up and I knew she wasn’t going to let you go that easily.” 

Jungkook draws in a long breath, rubbing his now clammy hands in his jeans as he looks back towards Minji. 

“I mean, she couldn’t let her go that easily.” She jerks her head towards Sunhi, still sitting on the swings, though she’s slowed down now. “She loves that little girl so damn much.” 

Jungkook’s sure of this. He recognizes the immense love you have for Sunhi, how sincere and unconditional it is. It’s the way a mother loves her child, though he never expected it to come from you instead. He’s not surprised though, because it’s the same love you gave to him. But it’s louder, there are no boundaries that you needed to respect to show Sunhi just how much you loved her, unlike with him. 

It dawns on him that cutting him off must’ve been hard. You probably wanted to do it for way longer and only stayed because of Sunhi and Jungkook doesn’t want to think about the dilemma you must’ve went through to finally do it this time around. 

He runs his hands through his hair, letting out a shaky breath, remembering that Sunhi doesn’t have you anymore. That’s the reason as to why she’s been so misbehaved lately, crying way too often, throwing tantrums over the smallest of things. Jungkook could blame it on the fact that she’s soon turning four and maybe it’s something that comes with age, it might just be a coincidence that she’s acting this way during a time you’re no longer present in her life.

This is the thing Sunhi might not be able to forgive him for.

“Minji,” he finally speaks up and the woman beside him focuses his gaze back on him, “I miss her so much.” He mumbles, not trusting himself to speak up because he might choke back a sob.

“Only now?” 

“No!” He says this a little too harshly and Minji jumps slightly at the tone in his voice, “I’ve always missed her and I’m fucking idiot for realizing too late.” 

She hums and Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, “She’s my first thought when I wake up and when I finally manage to go to sleep. Sunhi constantly reminds me about her, asking me where she is and when can she see her and I have to force myself to lie.” 

Jungkook doesn’t realize Minji’s hand is now awkwardly placed on his back, hesitantly tapping as if to give him some comfort. It’s weird to see him like this, she had convinced herself that the guy didn’t have any feelings when it came to you.

“She blocked my number, I can’t call her and all my texts have been left undelivered. I’ve driven by her apartment building too many times with the plan to go up and talk to her, but I always back out because I’m an idiot and I know she’ll hate me if I do that and I—“

“Jungkook.” 

“I just want to know if she still cares, I don’t mind if she doesn’t feel the same way. But I want to know that Y/N still cares about Sunhi and me. Do you know? Does she? Could you please—“

Jungkook’s ramble is interrupted by the crying sounds of Sunhi, who’s now on the ground as she sobs and he quickly stands up to go straight towards her. He blinks away the tears that had formed in his eyes because there’s only room for one crying baby here.

“Pumpkin, what happened?” He asks in a soft voice, crouching down at her level and she’s pouting as she points at her bloody knee. “Did you fall down?” She nods and he sighs, picking her up as he takes her back to the bench where Minji waits with expectancy to check on the little girl.

Jungkook places Sunhi beside her and looks through his daughter’s bag for the emergency kit he carried around. He cleans the blood delicately with a gauze and alcohol, making the little girl wince and yelp out an ‘ouch!’ as she holds tightly to Minji’s thigh. 

“It’s okay, Pumpkin.” He reassures her with a smile, making his daughter nod because she trusts her dad, “It was an accident and accidents are part of growing up, right?” She nods again and Minji figures this isn’t a first for her.

Once the blood has been cleaned, Jungkook places a cute rainbow patterned bandaid on the wound in her knee. 

“There we go,” he announces and Sunhi lets out the breath she’d been holding, ‘‘all done! Are you good now?” 

“Yes,” Sunhi weakly replies, “daddy, I wanna go home.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but the look on her face tells him that she’s probably still shaken by the accident and most likely wants to take a nap to forget about it.

He looks over at Minji with an apologetic look and she gives him half a smile, “Go, it’s alright.” 

Jungkook nods and takes Sunhi in his arms, which she gladly accepts and settles her head in the crook of his neck. Minji’s ready to leave, figuring there was no point in staying any longer.

“Minji, wait!” He stops her before she goes, making her turn around and offer him a curious look, “Sunhi’s birthday is in a few weeks and,” Jungkook reaches for something inside his daughter’s bag, “she really wants Y/N to be there.” He whispers, taking out a party invitation to hand over to Minji.

She smirks, looking at the personalized invitation for his daughter’s fourth birthday, “Just Sunhi?” She asks and he lets out a breathless laugh.

“Me too.” Jungkook adds and a small smile appears on his face as he says it. “Uh—thank you for talking to me, I know it must’ve been hard.” 

Minji swats her hand in the air, “It’s alright, just wanted to make sure how you and the kid were doing. It’s all she talks about anyway.” 

A gasp escapes his lips and he holds on to his daughter tighter as she nuzzles her face farther in. 

“I’ll give her the card, but—I can’t guarantee if she’ll go.” She warns and he nods, understanding.

Though he does not like the possible outcome, he settles down with the idea that you’ll notice how even though you both haven’t spoken towards each other in almost two months, he’s still thinking about you either way. Every day. 

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 12k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: good god where to begin, loss of virginity : ) for real, big dick joon, cowgirl, unprotected sex, special appearance from namjoon’s sensitive neck o.o, premature ejaculation sorry bud, creampie, dom!joon still tho, sub!reader, sexting, dom!hoseok/master!hoseok, sub!jungkook, sub!reader agAIN, bondage and shibari, master/slave dynamics (sorry i have to spoil the prompt but want to properly TW this stuff, but the word slave is only used once out-of-scene), filmed sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, hoseok wearing the tear dior fit you are WELCOME, fingering, orgasm control/denial, oral (m receiving), anal (m receiving), a position i am told is called a lucky pierre/french sandwich, threesome in case you couldn’t guess, aftercare, guided masturbation, phone sex, pet-names, discipline/punishment

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you my darling SFHS babies ! i love you

DAY EIGHT

“Are you ready to make your decision?”

No. Of course the answer is no, but there’s no delaying it anymore. “Is it nine already?”

Sejin sighs, shuffling to the side of the table to indicate you’re to sit beside him. When you do, facing the boys on the couch, your heart gives another sickening lurch. Sejin squeezes your shoulder kindly. “Just a game, sweetheart,” he assures quietly, before raising his voice into the authorial tone he used for announcements. “Thank you for all being here on time, any on topic questions before we begin?”

Nobody answers, not even Jin. There’s a tense atmosphere, and you feel caught right in the centre of it.

“Okay, then,” he says softly, sensing the sullen atmosphere. “I’d like to give each of the Gentlemen a chance to explain why Y/n should keep them in the show. Let’s go around the room. Yoongi?”

To Sejin’s left, perched on the end of the three-person couch, is the doctor himself, legs crossed and face relaxed. “Um, Y/n should keep me in becau-”

“Say it to her,” Sejin guides, shuffling back to move out of the way.

Reflexively, Yoongi glances up at you, and the calm warmth of his eyes reassures you. “Y/n, I’d ask you to keep me in because we’ve had a good time together so far, but there’s so much that we have yet to explore. Beyond that, I’d like to think I’m a good fit for the house, and I’ll continue to assist Jin-hyung in cooking many meals.” Once he’s done, he sends you a small smile, eyes glinting playfully.

The younger boy sitting next to him is not as cheerful. Bottom lip red from gnawing, Jungkook tucks his feet up on the couch, resting his chin on his knees. His eyes meet yours after Sejin signals for him to begin. “I really hope you don’t vote me out because I like it here a lot. You’re so cool, and the hyungs are so cool, and I feel really happy here. I know we haven’t spent a whole lot of quality time yet, but I want to, if I stick around long enough.”

You bite down harshly on your tongue, sending him a strained smile. Fuck, this sucks. Beside Jungkook is Hoseok, who props his elbow on the arm of the couch, posture casual but face stricken.

“Y/n,” Hoseok begins, voice tentative and uncharacteristically subdued, “you’re a very intelligent girl and you have a lot of potential in being a sub. I’d appreciate the opportunity to stay in and show you and the audience how enjoyable BDSM can be. We’re all very lucky men to be on the show with you.”

On the couch beside, Namjoon is the next one around. He pauses, eyes dancing about the room as he thinks. “I think it probably doesn’t make much sense to keep me in the game,” he allows. “I’m not experienced like the others and so it’s a little hard to defend on that front, but I think me staying allows you the advantage of being my first and best experience. I feel like with just a bit more time, I’ll really grow into my element, and I feel safe doing it with you. So I really hope I stay.”

Squished beside him is Jin, who sends you a big grin, even if it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “This is so shitty,” he says with a laugh, “it’s harder than I was prepared for before I came, and I think that’s due partly to the warm environment that we’re developing with each other, but also because you, Y/n, are a very genuine and lively person. Of course this is a game about sex, but I don’t think any one of us could say that’s the only factor here. As for me, I ask that you keep me in at least a week more because I can promise not only a good time, but also an ear if you need one, and advice should you ever want it.” He pauses to glance around the room. “That goes for all of you,” Jin adds, “I cannot believe that I don’t hate any of you, I don’t know how the producers found such great people.”

His words ease a bit of the tension, and the rest of you let out laughs of relief, your heart easing slightly.

Next, it’s down on the floor for Taehyung, who seems to prefer sitting cross-legged on the carpet to any other spot in the room. “I really wanna stay here,” he pleads with his eyes locked on yours, so earnest, “you’re so fantastic, and Jungkookie and the hyungs are all so fantastic, and I don’t wanna go home so soon. And also I think in terms of sex and stuff, I bring a lot to the table.” Taehyung avoids Sejin’s gaze, fiddling with the hem of his shirt innocently even as he stares up through his eyelashes at the rest of you cheekily. “I think we saw that yesterday. Though in the future, hopefully it’ll cost me less.” He sends a withering glare at Yoongi and Jin. “You assholes.”

You let out a chuckle, Jin huffing in response and Yoongi just shrugging with a shameless grin. Finally, it’s Jimin’s turn, and your chest pangs as you remember the last time you were together. The way he squeezed your hand gently before getting out of the car last night, the way he walked you to your bedroom door, wishing you sweet dreams. The way you saw an entirely different man to the one he’s been advertising.

His eyes on you are imploring even as his back is straight and legs crossed. “I value the time I spend with you. This is, after all, a game about sex so I’ll defend myself by saying you can rest assured I’m skilled enough to please you well, but if you allow me to stay,” he drops eye contact, fiddling with his rings even as he fights to remain poised, “I do hope it’s not the sex alone that keeps me here.” Like a switch is flicked, his momentary vulnerability vanishes, and he glances up and sends you a smile, warm and at-ease, having said his piece.

“And Y/n,” Sejin guides from beside you, his kind eyes on you, “anything to say to the guys?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s been a week? Why is this so hard? “I- First of all, this decision has been insanely hard. You’re all amazing, not just in bed but as people, and I hope that whoever has to leave will still stay in touch. It feels really cruel that I have to say goodbye to someone so soon. The reality is, none of you did bad, and there’s nobody I don’t like; nobody that doesn’t belong here. I’ve made my decision, but- I don’t know. I’m not happy with it, but I don’t think I’d be happy with any decision. In the end, I guess I just went for the least painful option.” You take a deep breath, eyes lifting to look at Hoseok, who sends you a sad smile. You open your mouth-

“Wait!” Sejin interrupts loudly. Everyone turns to look at him in unison, eyes wide. “There-” He breaks off with a sigh, glancing at the camera closest to him before looking back down at the group. “Listen; this will be edited out, but ratings have been doing far better than we’d ever anticipated. We already hired a third editor to keep up with demand and get more episodes out than was on the schedule, and there’s talk we may even start getting sponsorships because the support has been creating headlines, at least on Twitter. The higher-ups at Bangasm, well… they want to make an exception.”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Sejin answers. “Act surprised.” The eight of you stare at him with varying degrees of bewilderment as he puffs his chest and carries his voice louder, switching back into producer mode. “Wait!” he repeats in the same tone as earlier. “The production team hasn’t been completely honest with you. This isn’t just a basic game with prompts each week like we told you. There will be a special advantage, a wildcard if you wish, that changes things up. They could affect the prompts, or how the game proceeds for that week. We call them Bangasm Bombs. And while we didn’t tell you, our production team has drawn the Bangasm Bomb for Week One.”

Sejin pauses to look at you all meaningfully. Jimin picks up the hint. “So; what’s the ‘Bangasm Bomb’ for this week?” he asks for you, gesturing quote marks with his fingers. 

Your mind is starting to whir, possibilities beginning to percolate in your mind, but you aren’t prepared for what Sejin says next.

“Nobody goes home this week.” 

Your mouth drops open, eyes darting around the room to see the open disbelief on the guys’ faces. “So I- I don’t have to send anyone home today?”

“No,” Sejin answers warmly, and you feel your shoulders sag in relief, a breath rushing out you didn’t know you were holding. Sejin winces, clearing his throat lightly. “That’s… the other thing.”

“Other thing?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “There’s more?”

“With the success of the show comes other benefits. For example; the CEO and treasurer of Bangasm have agreed to double our funding if we can keep the views up. No, Seokjin,” Sejin quips the second the eldest contestant raises his hand. Jin puts his hand down, lips pursed in a pout. “We’re changing the rules a bit. Before, we said if Y/n eliminated you, you’d pack your bags and leave. Now; you stay.”

Sejin can’t get another word out over the clamour that arises, everyone shocked and excited and confused all at once. He waves his hand for silence, and only after a minute or so everyone calms down. 

“So, there’s just no eliminating?” Jungkook asks with a comically quizzical look on his face.

“Please just let me explain,” Sejin requests, sighing. “Yes, there will still be eliminations. But if you get eliminated, you stay in the house.”

“So it’s a free pass,” Jungkook surmises.

“Not quite. No longer will you not be competing in the game, but you won’t be able to have sex with or sexually touch Y/n in any way. If you do, then you’ll be sent out of the house for good.”

“No sex with Y/n?” Taehyung asks meaningfully. “So… otherwise…?”

Sejin sighs, a tired laugh falling from his lips. “Just no sex with Y/n,” he confirms. “If you touch Y/n sexually, you go home. If Y/n touches you, of course we can’t send her home, so we’ve devised a punishment.” 

At the word punishment your head darts up to stare at the producer, but Hoseok beats you to the punch. “She’s gonna come join us in the bunkroom?”

“That’s for failing prompts, Hobi-hyung,” Namjoon points out, “Y/n doesn’t have any prompts.”

“Correct,” Sejin confirms. “If Y/n touches an eliminated member in a sexual manner, then that member gets to choose what she wears for the next 24 hours.”

You frown. “That doesn’t sound so…” you trail off when you glance up, only to be met with seven hungry sets of eyes. You can just about see the cogs turning in their brains as they stare at your body. “Ah.”

“Yes. So stick to the rules, and you get, as Jungkook so elegantly put, a free pass minus Y/n. Got it?”

The eight of you stay silent, still shell-shocked from the two revelations. This changed things. Now, when you voted someone off, they would get to stay, but they would get to stay. You can see both the positive and negative possibilities there, and it’s no surprise that a reality show would have such a sneaky plot twist.

So you’d have all seven fucking you for one more week, and then all seven every week in the future, only with your sexual prospects dropping as you went. It does ensure that you’ll begin voting for them purely based on sexual performance; considering their personalities in the house wasn’t an issue if you’d have those anyway. 

As you glance around the room, you can’t help but wonder if your vote would’ve been different had you known that he’d get to stay. And you wonder if you’ll end up picking the same person in a week’s time, after a new set of prompts. The thought makes you sit up, turning to Sejin again.

“Will the boys draw their new prompts, then?” you ask. “Do I get to know the theme again?”

“Ah, of course-” Sejin breaks off to sit up, retrieving a stack of slightly crumpled papers from his back pocket. “This week’s theme is dynamics and roleplay. Come pick a card.”

Like last week, you pay close attention to the reactions of each of the seven. Namjoon blinks wide at his, but doesn’t seem as put off as last week, and his eyes go distant when he sits back down, like he’s already picturing it. Jimin takes two, one for him at one for Taehyung, and the two compare, Taehyung laughing at Jimin’s and Jimin smirking at Taehyung’s, brushing his clean-shaven cheek with the back of his knuckles and murmuring something in his ear. 

When Jin gets his, he bites his tongue and shakes his head with a light laugh, and Yoongi’s mouth drops open upon reading his card, eyes darkening with lust. Jungkook winces at first, but thinks on it a moment longer and grins eagerly, taking a second glance and scrunching his nose cutely at it. Hoseok takes his last, calmly reading it with a pleased smirk, sliding it into his front pocket and taking a seat.

Your breath leaves you in a slow stream. You’re back to the not-knowing. Dynamics and roleplay. It could really be anything, you supposed. Naughty schoolgirl, pizza delivery guy. You didn’t watch a lot of porn but you vaguely knew some of the tropes, and it’ll be a rather interesting week indeed.

“That’s not all, of course,” Sejin adds, and you feel like your brain could implode with the information dump that this morning has been. “Would you like to hear the Bangasm Bomb for Week 2?”

“We find out now?” Hoseok questions. “Not at the end?”

“Well, in order to fulfil it you need to know now,” the producer explains. “This week, Y/n may not sleep in her own bed, and she may not sleep in the same bed twice.”

You blink, not expecting it to be directed at you. “I what?” Your mind catches up with the rule, and you let out a light laugh. “So, I’ll have to share with the other guys?”

"Let's not forget the type of show we're on," Yoongi points out, leveling an impressed stare at the producer. "Well-played."

"Thank you," Sejin replies shortly. "Now, that'll be all. Just a reminder, if your scene isn't filmed, it doesn't count, and it's okay if Y/n guesses the prompt, but if you tell her directly then your prompt is void. Seokjin; we ordered you a set of chef's knives that should be here later today. Please stop spamming the company's inquiries email."

He's out of the room before Jin can even react, open-mouthed but smug like the cat that got the cream.

The eight of you sit in silence for a moment or two, still reeling. It's Hoseok in the end that recovers first.

"So we all stay," he muses. "Even if we get voted off, we stay. Why is that both a blessing and a curse?"

"This is reality TV," Jimin points out calmly, "and it's porn on top of it. Tension and drama skyrockets ratings. Well; I'm going to make some coffees if anyone wants one."

Most of the group move back into the kitchen, rifling through cabinets like zombies to make their breakfasts, but Namjoon approaches you hesitantly, biting on his lip.

"Y/n, can I talk to you? Privately?"

You stand up off the coffee table, though still you're lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "Sure," you reply easily, "privately or privately privately?"

"Um," he hesitates, glancing towards the entrance foyer, where across the hall lies the unfilmed rec room. "Just privately is fine for now."

Everyone else distracted with the prospect of food and hot coffee, it's easy enough to just sit on the stairs, side-by-side and thighs touching. Like this, you become aware of how much bigger he is than you. Namjoon's legs sprawl out down to the bottom of the stairs, socked feet slipping slightly on the glossy stone floor, whereas yours are tucked on the step below you. He glances down at you with a nervous disposition, but his eyes are surprisingly steady.

"Hoseok-hyung and I slept in the bunk bed room last night, as you probably know," he explains. "Him and I talked a lot. About a bunch of things, but he helped me realise something. And after I got the prompt today, I was sure."

Your eyes widen as they watch him carefully. The roots of his purple are starting to grow out in a soft brunette that makes him look even younger, his face round yet gently sculpted, chin pressed out in solemnity. "Sure of what?" you question quietly.

Namjoon takes a slow breath, rubbing his palms over his knees. "I think it's better if I don't lose my virginity while doing some cheesy role-play for a porn show, you know? I know I chose to come here knowing what I was walking into, but... Hoseok suggested maybe we could use the rec room for some privacy and then I could just fill my prompt later in the week. Of course, the producers will probably get annoyed at me not losing my virginity on camera, but they never said I had to, and I think I want it to be something just for me, you know? Something that's just you and me, outside of the show. I understand if you don't want to do that, but if you're happy to, I think I'm ready now."

You take a few moments to fully process his words, the gravity of them. "You sure you're ready? If you are, I'm happy to do that, Joonie. I want it to be good for you. You deserve that."

He smiles at that, broadly, but with his head ducked down. "That means a lot," he admits, "but yeah. I'm ready. If you want to...?" He trails off, tipping his head in the direction of the private rec room.

You sit up straight. "Oh! You mean- now now? Yes, I can do that, wow, okay-"

"If that's alright?" he asks hastily, face pinched with worry, but you just stand up, holding out a hand to him. He takes it, letting you lead him to the door.

From the few times you've needed to use this room, it's been pretty empty. It's small; most likely originally intended as extra storage or a home office, and the producers had put a visibly second-hand couch on one wall, a skinny coffee table and a lamp in there.

Generally, it's a glorified staffroom of sorts, a time-out that's more valuable for its lack of cameras than anything actually inside. Today, though, you freeze in the hallway at the sight that greets you.

With the table pushed to one side, boasting two bottles of water, a box of tissues, a bottle of self-heating lube and a small bluetooth speaker, the rest of the room has been converted into a massive bed.

The floor is covered with blankets, sheets and duvets, thick enough to be like a bedroll, with pillows stacked on the edges. They cover most of the floor, roughly the size of a queen size bed. On top of the impressive set-up are a colourful variety of packaged condoms, arranged in a tasteful love-heart.

Namjoon groans at the display, pinching his brow. "Hoseok said he'd set up for me and make it a little more comfortable, I'm sorry."

"It's cute," you say with a laugh, "are you wanting to use condoms?"

Namjoon swallows. "Uh, you- what would you prefer?"

You shrug, collecting them up and flicking through the buffet of options. You chuckle as the majority are L and XL. Unsurprising. "I mean, we don't need one. So if you want to feel everything fully, I say go bare."

"G-go bare, please," he coughs out awkwardly, shutting and locking the door behind him, double-checking the handle. "Can we put some music on? It's really quiet in here."

"Of course." You busy yourself with the music, smiling at the fact that he must have appreciated it last time. By the time you select a nice playlist on your phone and pick a decent volume, Namjoon's surprised you by hastily stripping down to his underwear, shyly rubbing at his knees.

You stand stock-still for a moment, just taking in the gorgeous sight of his body, all understated muscle and bold lines and planes. He must do some form of exercise, because his chest is thick, as are his thighs, and his lower stomach is soft but lean. He's gorgeous, and between your legs you feel your excitement grow.

Hustling to strip your clothes off as a gentle guitar strumming fills the air, you feel the cool cotton of the duvet under your knees as you straddle Namjoon, the man sucking in a breath as your clothed pussy presses flush against his hardness.

"Give me a kiss," you ask softly, a suggestion to let him take control, and a sigh of relief leaves his lungs as he cups your face in his hands, tugging your lips onto his greedily.

The ferocity with which he kisses you takes your breath away. It's powerful, greedy and demanding like he's waited an eon to kiss you again. While he was surprisingly skilful the first time, now it feels like he's come into his own.

You make a noise of surprise in the back of your throat as you feel his tongue slipping between your lips, licking up into your mouth like he's trying to devour you. You're drunk on it, mind feeling hazy, but you manage to pull away for a moment, gasping out a, "how the hell did you get this good?"

Grunting, Namjoon's eyes flutter open and one of his hands slips back to cup the nape of your neck securely, preventing you from backing up further. "Hoseok gave me some tips," he admits. "Now get back here."

You let yourself be pulled in again and eaten alive, muffled groans and sighs of bliss slipping out between swipes of tongue and flashes of teeth, nipping at your bottom lip until it's swollen and aching in the best way.

Without realising, you've begin to grind your hips against him, needing friction, and he pants into your mouth at the feeling. The pleasure makes him sloppy, and you groan as his lips leave yours, veering down to kiss along your jawline, tugging on your earlobe before sucking blossoms of colour down your throat. You tip your head back, arching into his mouth and rocking your hips against him, the friction addictive.

"Gonna fuck you now," you hear him groan against your collarbone, lips on your skin that's slick from his spit. Even in your heightened state of arousal you can sense the slight question in his voice, like he's checking you're still okay with it.

More than okay, you glance down to see the point that joins you, your panties so wet that the grey of his boxers is marred by a dark spot, wet and clinging to the stiff outline of his cock. You curse lowly at the sight of it. "Fuck, please, I need you, Joonie."

He lets out a strangled sigh, hands trembling slightly as he pushes down the waistband of his boxers so that it rests below his balls, cock bobbing up to rest at his stomach. He swallows hard, eyes closed and back resting against the base of the couch. The sheets beneath you have heated up with your body temperature, arousal radiating off the two of you in waves. 

When you first reach out to touch him, you keep your eyes on his face, on his reaction. The initial contact makes his brow twitch, eyes clenching shut. So thick your fingers don’t touch around him when you grasp his base, he’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen in the house; a touch of irony that the least experienced member had the biggest genetic advantage. His bottom lip finds his way tucked between his teeth, thighs tensing beneath you. 

“Joonie,” you mumble in a mock pout, “are you gonna fuck me now or so I have to do all the work myself?”

His eyes fly open, gaze landing on your widened eyes of innocence, before darting down to where you’re gently stroking him, fingertips catching on the sensitive ridge beneath his head. “Hobi-hyung said you should ride me so you can get used to it.”

You chuckle, tapping your thumb over his weeping slit, making him hiss. “Let’s stop thinking about what Hobi said and start worrying about what you want. Do you want me to ride you? Feel how tight I am for you?”

He curses, brows knitting as he nods shakily, and you can’t hold yourself back any longer. With a low curl of thrill in your stomach, you sit up so you can quickly slip off your panties, before straddling him again. He feels heavy when you brush his length through your sodden folds, readying him for you, and the thought makes you groan lowly. 

“Wanted you so bad,” you confess over the music in the background, now a simple drum beat that gives you rhythm as you grind your hips over him, letting his blunt head catch at your entrance. “Fuck.” His fingers are digging into your hips just with the feeling of your pussy clenching over his tip, and you lower yourself painfully slowly, adjusting to the way he stretches you to your limit, dragging inch by inch against your walls. 

“H-oh god, it is, it’s so tight,” he comments with a hitch in his voice, and again you feel the muscles of his thighs twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to bury himself in you. Though the thought of it is hot, you’re merciful that he’s giving you time to grow accustomed to the sheer girth of his dick inside you. 

“Does it feel good, Joonie?” you ask, the question panted as he takes your breath away, grinning at the quick stuttered nods he gives in reply, fingers flexing on the flesh of your hips and ass. By the time you’re sitting flush against his lap, you can barely breathe, a shaky hand pressing onto your stomach almost expecting to feel him bulging out of you from the inside. He’s not just the biggest on the show, but the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel like you could cum just from rolling your hips against him. 

“You feel so amazing, Y/n,” he praises, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in close so that he can press his lips to yours. You whine as he shifts in you, feeling shakier than ever, but appreciate the chance to adjust to him, tongue chasing his and fingers slipping into his hair as you kiss. 

You’re content to stay like that for as long as he continues to move his mouth against you, mouth watering at the feeling of cockwarming him and joining your bodies so intimately, but the excitement of new sensation gets to him, and after a while he begins to shift, holding your hips down and grinding his hips.

Your jaw drops open, hands flying out to grip at his shoulders at the feeling. He’s so deep you can barely comprehend it, can barely think with his cock filling you so completely, and find yourself pleading quietly, an unintelligible babble of more, please more, need more. He shifts his posture as you sit on his length, uncrossing his legs and instead bracing them in front of him. 

“Want me to fuck you like this?” he asks, nipping at your throat, and you shiver at the husky gravel of his tone. What happened to the shy virgin? 

“Please, Joonie,” you gasp, clenching around him, “need you to move.”

His first thrust takes your breath away, punching the air out of your lungs. When he moves inside you it feels monumental, like a core piece of you shifting, and your eyes water with the delicious burn. You whine when he pauses for a moment, hands slipping down to knead at your ass. Namjoon’s eyes are like molten dark chocolate as they focus on you, rich and intense, and when your head tips down to kiss him again it’s so needy your teeth clash, the keening whimper in your throat sign enough that you want more. 

It’s only once he begins to fuck you in earnest, bouncing you on his cock, that you see how truly affected he is. Strands of lilac cling to his temples as he sweats, chest heaving and hands trembling even as his fingers dig in hungrily. His lips are slick with spit, but he makes no move to wipe them clean, just biting onto his bottom lip and sucking, hips snapping up with bruising momentum. 

You can’t catch your breath, but still you chase his lips like oxygen, needing to be as close as possible. His panting keeps you anchored as you moan shamelessly, toes curling and back arching. Your high approaches quickly enough that it shocks you, but there’s no escaping the pleasure that rushes through you with every snap of his hips. 

You lose contact with his mouth, cheek resting limply on his shoulder as he speeds up his pace, the muscles in your legs failing you, twitching uncontrollably. 

“No, no, no, fuck,” Namjoon chants lowly, and you feel a hand bury in your hair, holding you to the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last.”

You moan at that, feeling him stiffen impossibly more inside you with every thrust. “Wan’ you to cum,” you promise in his ear, barely more than a gasped breath, “wanna cum with you.” To end the statement, you nuzzle your nose against his throat and nip at his pulse point. To your surprise, he shudders violently, suddenly going stock still.

Your eyes widen as hot ropes of cum fill you, Namjoon clutching you to him helplessly, groaning nonsense as his orgasm hits him out of nowhere. Your own high recedes, but you barely notice it as you sit up tiredly and clench around him, watching the pleasure flicker across his face as he rides the high. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes cast towards the ceiling and chest still heaving, “I’m so sorry, I… sensitive neck.”

You grin, running your hands up to gently brush over it, feeling him pulse inside you, spurting the final drops of cum from his spent cock. “Don’t apologise,” you assure, leaning in quickly to nibble at his lips and give him a lazy, indulgent kiss. “That was really fucking hot.”

He laughs, cheeks pinkening slightly, and you feel your heart warm at the return of the shy Namjoon you’d gotten used to. So he’s a lot more dominant and confident in the heat of the moment, you muse as he catches his breath, good to know.

When you find your strength again, slowly sitting up off him, you wince at the rush of cum leaving you, and the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness. That’s only exacerbated by the fact that you haven’t cum yet, but it’s his first time and you don’t want him to feel bad. Collapsing on the sheets beside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, breath still coming in shallow pants. “Good?”

“Good god, Y/n,” he exclaims earnestly, “I think I might be a sex addict now.” 

A surprised peal of laughter leaves your lungs, and you shove him playfully before crawling over to the coffee table, cracking open a bottle of water and cleaning yourself up with the available tissues. “Hoseok really did think this through, huh?” you muse, chucking him the box once you’re done.

Namjoon clears up the cum on his cock and thighs, grimacing at the way some of it has stained his boxers, but he sends you a guilty look. “I’m sorry.”

You frown, reaching for your clothes. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t-”

Whatever Namjoon is about to say is cut off by a sudden thud that gives you both a fright, followed by three polite albeit enthusiastic knocks. You stare in bewilderment at the door, before hastily dressing yourself.

“Is everything alright?” Namjoon calls out, putting his underwear back on properly and hopping into his pants. “Has something happened?”

“I should hope so, young grasshopper!” an enthusiastic voice chirps from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakably Hoseok. “You’ve popped your cherry, Kim Namjoon!”

The academic winces, reaching out to unlock the door once he’s made sure the two of you are dressed. “Hoseok, what are you doing? Wha-?” He breaks off once he opens the door, and you rush around behind him to see what gave him pause. 

In the foyer are Hoseok, Taehyung and Jin, all in matching paper birthday hats, the strings of thin elastic digging into their chins. Hoseok’s holding two more in his hands, and he thrusts them towards you as Taehyung wiggles the weighty bottle of champagne in his grasp. Behind them, Jin calmly holds a kitchen knife.

“What’s going on?” you ask in bewilderment, stepping out into the foyer and wincing at the ache between your legs with each step. “Why the fuck are you holding a knife?”

Jin, his bright blue party hat on at a jaunty angle, stares down at his hands blankly before gasping, tucking it behind his back. “Sometimes I forget I’m still holding it.”

“That’s extremely alarming,” Namjoon says with a frown. “I still don’t understand why you’re all gathered outside the door.”

“It’s time for the party, hyung,” Taehyung explains, “to celebrate you finally getting your dick wet.”

Your cheeks go flaming red as you glance at Namjoon, the poor man spluttering and eyes wide like he didn’t know what to do. “If there’s champagne, I’m there,” you announce calmly. “Come on, Joonie, let’s go celebrate.”

Namjoon visibly relaxes when you aren’t offended, flicking you a warm smile. “Is everyone wearing a hat?” he questions incredulously, taking the thin cone card. 

“Mo-mostly everyone,” Hoseok answers suspiciously. 

“It’s just you guys, isn’t it?”

“Well, if you both wore one, we’d have the majority.”

You grin, patting Hoseok on the shoulder as you walk past him into the foyer. “Let’s just go,” you call out to the guys behind you, “there better be food.”

As expected, the three that greeted you were the only ones wearing party hats. At the dining table, which has been laden with aromatic dishes, steaming rice and empty champagne flutes, the other three await. Jimin’s is resting beside his plate and chopsticks, untouched. Beside him, Yoongi has his upside down, using it as a bowl for the rice snacks he’s munching happily on. The youngest man in the house hasn’t even noticed you’ve arrived, using it like a very inefficient telescope, one eye scrunched shut and the other focused on the pinhole at the top of the cone. Sitting at the head of the table, he aims it at Jimin, mouth hanging open as he tries to see through the tiny gap.

Giving up, he waves the wide end around the room, desperate to catch a glimpse of something. Once the cone lands on the five of you, he gasps, chucking down the party hat. “You’re back! I didn’t start eating the cake, like you said!” 

Jin frowns. “That sounds awfully suspicious.” Knife still in hand, he makes his way to the kitchen island, where you catch a glimpse of a beautifully iced cake with writing on the top that you’re too far away to read. 

Jungkook shifts restlessly in his seat, staring worriedly at Jin. “The- um, the birds attacked it.” If you look closely, you think you can see the slightest hint of vanilla icing in the crook of his mouth. 

Jin stares at the cake desolately. “The birds?” he deadpans.

“Seagulls, you know,” Jungkook tries to pass off casually, the pink of his tongue dashing out to lick the sugar off his lips. “Absolute vultures.”

Hoseok tsks in disappointment. “Was it seagulls or was it vultures?”

Jungkook stays silent an inexplicably long amount of time, glancing slowly between Hoseok and Jin. His eyes are wide like he’s trying to work out the lie in his head “...It was me.” 

Jin’s fingers are pressed to his temple as he sighs. “Right.” Setting down the knife, he picks up the cake and brings it to the table, placing it in the middle of the table. The rest of you all take a seat, filling in the spaces around the table. Taehyung slips in beside Jimin, Hoseok at the end of the table opposite Jungkook, and finally Jin, Namjoon, and you take the last of the seats. 

The cake is beautiful, neat and fluffy buttercream all over with swooping cursive written in a thin black stream. Unfortunately, a very delicate but obvious slice has been taken out so you have to focus to work out what the writing says. Once you do, you let out a reluctant chuckle, watching Namjoon blush once more, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his shirt shyly.

“‘Here lies Namjoon’s virginity,’” you recite, “‘1994-2020.’ Who came up with that?”

“That’s not impor-” Jin begins, but Taehyung swiftly cuts him off.

“I did!” he declares proudly. “Everyone agreed mine was funnier than Jin-hyung’s.”

“Obviously not everyone,” Jin replies bitterly, dishing himself up some of the rice closest to him. “Dig in, everyone, Yoongi and I worked hard on this. And congratulations Namjoon,” he adds, though he sends Namjoon a genuine smile, eyes twinkling. 

After everyone says their congratulations, the food is dug into and the cork of the bottle is popped, conversation flowing like the champagne. 

Over time, Namjoon seems to get used to the chatter about sex, perhaps not feeling so left out of the loop, and his face is more open and relaxed than ever, a dimple poking out when he smiles. You occasionally reach out to shove him playfully or squeeze his arm as the chatter continues, and he no longer freezes or stiffens up. It warms your heart that he feels a little more comfortable amongst you.

You’re happy to tuck into your meal, having worked up an appetite for lunch, but it’s barely more than a second after finishing your first helping that your phone buzzes. 

You slip it out casually, frowning when you see it’s a notification that you’ve been added to a group-chat. 

After that, you smother a scoff and slip your phone back into your pocket, hoping if your cheeks are red they can safely be attributed to the alcohol.

Glancing up, you see Jungkook stand up suddenly, eyes wide with barely-contained excitement as he picks up his bowl, chopsticks and champagne flute, scurrying over to dump them in the sink before disappearing upstairs. Yoongi stares at his empty seat in confusion, but shrugs and takes another mouthful of cake. You eat yours quickly enough that your stomach flips, or perhaps that’s just the anticipation.

After you’re done it takes you a few moments to build up the courage to look across to Hoseok, feeling his gaze hot on your skin. When you do, your eyes lock immediately, but he just continues to stare, lips pressed in a narrow line. 

Your heart leaps for a moment, wondering what that hard gaze means for you later on. Silently, as Taehyung continues to explain something to him with a mouth half-full of food, Hoseok lifts his eyebrow once, gaze darting to the roof. The message is clear. Go upstairs.

Biting your lip, you let Namjoon know you’re heading up, waving off his concern until he’s pulled back into a thread of conversation. You try to ignore the uncertain adrenaline rush that makes your hands tremble and your core throb all the way upstairs, until you’re knocking on Jungkook’s door.

The two of you share a look once he opens the door, one of anticipation and desire, and you let out a breathy chuckle. 

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” you ask rhetorically, stepping in and collapsing onto the bed. 

“I’ll take it if it means getting a good fuck,” he states matter-of-factly, sitting himself beside you and tucking his legs up. “Besides; I’ve wanted to see Hobi-hyung in action for a while.” 

Sitting up, you think back to that day in the confessional booth, where he had so easily made you fall apart without even taking a single item of clothing off. You wondered if he’d deprive you of his body tonight as well. 

“I think he’s angry at me,” you admit, “before I left, he looked… intense.” 

“Why would he be angry at you?” Jungkook asks with a frown, his hand slipping under the baggy fabric of his black tee, rubbing at his shoulder like he’s aching to take the item off. 

You go to shrug, but then your mind flicks back to this morning. “The elimination,” you realise, dread rising in your stomach just as much as your arousal is. “I think he knows I was going to eliminate him.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, round enough to be saucers. “Wait, really? Why him?”

You find the words dry up in your throat. “I- God, I don’t know. How am I meant to choose anyone when you’re all amazing? Maybe his had the least impact on me, I suppose.” You eye the door to the walkway warily. “I guess he’s determined to change that now.” 

Instead of replying, you’re taken aback when Jungkook throws his arms around you in a tight hug, his long hair brushing at your neck and shoulder as he tucks his chin into the hollow of your collarbone. Hesitantly, you bring your own arms up to hug him back, feeling your tension melt in the warm embrace.

“It must be so hard,” he murmurs, “I don’t think Hobi-hyung is really mad, you know? He probably just feels like he wasn’t good enough for you and wants to prove himself.” 

This thought just sends another spike of guilt through you, but you have no time to dwell on it before the door is clicking open, making you and Jungkook instinctively jump apart. 

Hoseok stands there, as intimidating as last time in all-black. Though he’s wearing just socks instead of the heavy duty boots he was in that day, there’s no denying the power he holds in the clothes he wears like armour. Leather pants so snug they’re like a second skin and a black long-sleeved shirt, tight but breathable cotton with a harness of thin leather straps providing some structure. His raven hair is swept back, but just a single stray lock hangs low over his brow, drawing your eyes back to his. “Starting without me?” he questions lightly, though his face is devoid of humour.

You swallow hard. “No… Master,” you add, seeing the expectant look on his face. Once he steps further into the room, you notice the black bag that was previously hidden behind his back. The duffel bag from last time. You suck in a breath and clench your thighs before you can even think to stop yourself, and Hoseok’s positively gleam at the sound. 

“Both of you have been very naughty today,” he explains, dumping the bag on the bed beside Jungkook, beginning to casually pull a heap of bright red nylon rope out. “Little Jungkookie ate the cake that Jin-hyung worked so hard on, even when he was specifically asked not to. And Y/n… Y/n knows exactly what she did.” Your eyes widen when Hoseok sets the multiple lengths of rope to one side in a neat folded coil and reaches back into the bag to produce a pair of wide, heavy-duty shears.

“Woah, hyung,” Jungkook exclaims in alarm, “I can apologise for the cake, I-”

“Settle, Jungkook, it’s okay,” Hoseok explains softly. “I told you we’re gonna be tying you up, yeah? This is so that we can cut the ropes quickly in case you want out. They aren’t part of the scene.”

You feel a thrill run through your veins at the gentle click of metal resting on the nightstand once Hoseok sets the scissors down. He hadn’t needed them for when your arms were tied. It meant that whatever you were going to do tonight would be more intense. The thought of everyone else downstairs having a good time and hanging out while you and Jungkook were up here getting bound by Hoseok… it somehow feels even more illicit and dirty. 

“Let’s do Jungkookie first, hm?” the dom proposes. “I’ve been wanting to see what you’d look like all prettied up for me. Choose red just for you.” 

Jungkook positively preens at the compliment, hands tucking into his lap and chest puffing out. “I’m excited, Master!”

Hoseok gestures for Jungkook to remove his clothes with a flat expression. “Don’t be,” he retorts calmly, “this isn’t a reward, it’s discipline. We’re going to learn a lesson about behaving.”

The camboy trembles, hastily shucking off his baggy shirt and pushing his sweatpants down, naked except for a pair of white socks. Your breath is taken away by how easily he bares himself to the cameras and to the two of you, eyes eager and nervous as Hoseok picks up one of the longer lengths of rope.

“I want you to kneel, Jungkookie,” Hoseok instructs, “kneel on the bed for me, arms at your sides.” 

Jungkook obeys, breath hitching as Hoseok approaches, passing the coil over his palm. You watch with baited breath as a bright red strand of rope is run around his narrow waist. As the professional dom begins looping, knotting and wrapping the rope around Jungkook’s torso, the boy’s eyes grow lidded, cock twitching as it rests back against his lower abdomen. 

It takes a while, but time is as smooth as velvet in the soft silence of the room, just gentle breaths and the whir of nylon rope sliding so beautifully along Jungkook’s skin. 

By the time Hoseok is done, Jungkook’s eyes barely open, so content with the feeling of being patiently wrapped up, and he hums lightly as Hoseok rechecks the tightness of each loop, slipping two fingers between rope and skin in several places. 

Rather than bondage or restraint, this looks like art. An elaborate harness of red contrasts beautifully against the pale golden flesh below, hardness of his chest and abs softened by the vaguely fishnet pattern, loops that interlock and curve across his body gracefully, the most careful and precise lattice of scarlet ropes.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Hoseok questions, and a finger comes down to run through the glossy precum that has been smeared onto Jungkook’s lower stomach. The boy hisses, arching his hips up in search of contact, but all it takes is a sharp swat at the head of his cock and Jungkook is whining, thighs flexing with the force of keeping still. “Patience, my little prince,” Hoseok tuts, patting Jungkook’s cheek with a hand still wet with the camboy’s own precum, “we’re gonna teach you how to be patient today.”

Jungkook groans low in his throat, lips parting at the term of endearment, and Hoseok grins at it, tiger-like. 

“Oh, do you like that, hm? Wanna be my special prince today?” Hoseok runs his fingers through Jungkook’s long hair, the camboy sucking in a sharp breath when they snag on some knots. Jungkook nods, eyes round and glittering as he looks up at his Master. Hoseok pouts, tapping him once on the end of his button nose. “It’s a shame you weren’t behaving today, then wasn’t it? Maybe if you’re good for me tonight, you can earn it.”

Jungkook’s brows lift pleadingly, looking so small under Hoseok’s harsh stare. “I’ll be good, though, Master.”

“Mm, I’m sure you will,” Hoseok confirms, swiping a thumb over Jungkook’s nipple to make him shiver, before he fixes an iron gaze onto you.

You swallow, slipping out of your clothes as quickly as you can once he gives the same gesture as before, crossing your legs and arms to try and preserve some dignity. Hoseok just tuts, picking up two of the remaining sections of nylon rope, only one still left waiting on the bed. 

“Hands at your sides, kneeling,” he instructs sharply, and you feel the way your walls clench at the authority in his voice as you hustle to get into position. 

The harness he puts you in is different to Jungkook’s, accentuating your breasts with bands both above and below them, leaving your stomach free but doubling the rope over so that every loop that wraps around you is twice as thick. The final tie is slipped up between your breasts, around the back of your neck and tucking back down to hold it all together, and your breath shallows at the secure feeling of the rope. 

It’s peaceful; the warm stripes of friction as he pulls strands through loops, the gentle flicking of the ends against your skin until he folds them away, the way it embraces your chest so snugly, but not too tight. It’s only once he’s done checking the rope like he did with Jungkook that he picks up the second, shorter length of nylon, and by then you already feel the sleepy yet electric haze of subspace seeping throughout your body.

“Hands,” he instructs, and you hold them out for him, watching with heightened arousal as he binds them, the rope wrapping around and between your wrists until they’re locked together. Last time your hands were bound behind your back but like this, you can watch him as he works.

It’s quick - a testament to his expertise - but you spend every moment with your eyes locked onto him. The eyes, gleaming with control and satisfaction, the pink tip of his tongue poking out just slightly as he focuses. His thin fingers, looping and wrapping and knotting with such skill. 

His last move, eyes darting up and smirking once he catches you watching him, is to connect the thick cuff-like ropes to the top of your harness, pinning them up to your chest, folded hands resting at the base of your throat. You instinctively tug once he’s done, only to feel the rope around your back tighten and dig in, but no distance made. The feeling of being at his mercy only adds to the slick gathering between your thighs. 

Once he steps back, eying the two of you up, your breath catches in your throat. Both you and Jungkook are fully naked, somehow feeling even more vulnerable in the rope, and Hoseok stands across from the bed in all his black leather glory, eyes raking over you like he’s assessing his work. 

“Are you gonna touch us, Master?” Jungkook questions in a small voice, fingers clutching at his own thighs, cock flushed and needy between them. 

“Not you yet, Jungkookie. Gotta warm Y/n up first.” Your eyes widen - for what? - but Hoseok is moving closer run a hand down Jungkook’s back, fingers jumping over the strands of rope. “Do you wanna help me, baby?”

Jungkook nods, blushing when Hoseok pinches lightly at his cheek. 

Hoseok leans over to you, carding his fingers into your hair and curling them in so that he can hold you steady. Like this, kneeling on the bed, you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, but he just tuts, holding you face-forward to Jungkook. “You wanna give her a kiss, Kookie?”

You swallow, fingers interlocking together as you look over to the camboy. He looks so needy, blissed out and pretty in his red rope, cock untouched and weeping. Your lips part automatically, tongue darting out to wet your lips and you don’t miss the way Jungkook’s eyes are drawn to it, lids now as he nods. 

With your hands pinned to your chest and kneeling, you don’t feel able to meet him halfway so you just wait as Jungkook crawls to you, glancing up at Hoseok for permission before burying your hands in your hair alongside the dom’s. With barely a second to suck in a breath, Jungkook ducks his head, his lips descending onto yours with sweet, unrestrained need. 

Unable to touch him back, you let your eyes slip shut with the soft presses of his mouth, taking everything he gives you. Everything about Jungkook in this moment is soft; his lips, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones, even the subtle scent of vanilla as his hair tickles your face - but the stiff grip in your hair is anything but, reminding you where exactly you are and the hand you’re under.

Your breath hitches as two things happen at once; Jungkook’s tongue presses into your mouth, deepening the kiss, and behind you Hoseok shifts, getting up on the bed behind you. Though you can’t see him, you become even more aware of his commanding presence, through the simple gesture of a fingertip, tracing beside lines of rope with a touch so light you shiver.

“You both look so pretty for me,” Hoseok murmurs warmly, his voice closer than you’d expected him to be, sounding like it’s right beside your air. Jungkook doubles his efforts in response, and your core is alight with excitement when you instinctively go to touch him, only to be reminded of the restraint you’re in. 

Jungkook kisses without abandon, not hurried but deep and purposeful. Though you still tremble under Hoseok’s teasing touch, your mind is so enraptured by Jungkook’s tongue in your mouth and teeth on your lips that you lose track of it. 

The camboy doesn’t dare venture his hands further than your face, cupping it so tenderly as he delves into you, so your eyes fly open with shock when two fingers are suddenly slipping through your folds, running over your clit for a single delicious moment of pleasure. You moan in shock and pull away to look down.

Between your kneeling legs is the slender but calloused hand of your Master himself, wrapped around your front and slipping inside you without question like you’re his. His to explore, his to ruin. You pant at the intrusion of two fingers, clenching around him, but his only response is to tug suddenly at your hair, pulling your gaze back up again.

Nipping sharply at the bridge of your ear, Hoseok scolds you. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he growls harshly, “did I?”

“Sorry, Master,” you reply without thinking, barely a moment before you let out a muffled squeak from Jungkook joining you together again, wasting no time to obey. 

Hoseok doesn’t stop his motions between your legs; on the contrary, he continues without pause, fingers moving inside you with a steady urgency. 

For a while, your brows furrow, hips rocking below him. He keeps missing your g-spot, fingers too straight to press against it on each thrust, and he moves to three fingers without touching your clit at all, hand held foward off of you to avoid friction. You moan brokenly into Jungkook’s mouth as you realise Hoseok’s doing it intentionally, stretching you out almost clinically, without regard or want for your pleasure. You go weak at the thought, sinking forward into Jungkook’s embrace, but soon enough the fingers are removed from you completely. Empty and unsatisfied just like earlier, you huff and begin to kiss the camboy more frantically, desperate for some pleasure to replace it. 

But Hoseok clearly isn’t having it. “Stop,” he commands shortly, “hands off.”

Jungkook sits back quickly, making sure you won’t slump over before he presses his hands to his thighs again, cock twitching at the continued neglect. Blinking, he licks his swollen lips and glances behind you to Hoseok in confusion. “Master?”

Your mouth goes dry when you hear the unmistakable sound of a zip being lowered. Hoseok’s hand leaves your hair suddenly, and you feel unmoored between the two men, just you and your hands tucked under your chin. “You tasted her pretty little pussy in Week One, didn’t you, Jungkookie? Would you like her to return the favour?”

Eyes wide, you drop your gaze down to Jungkook’s aching dick, as it twitches and leaks another thin trail of precum, the boy groaning. “Please, Master.” His fingers flex, holding back from touching it. “‘Hurts,” he whines.

You bite your lip, mouth watering. He’s not as big as Namjoon, but you know how fully he filled you just yesterday, and to have him in your mouth… “Please,” you croak out, fingers wiggling in the air as you’re unable to lower yourself to him. 

“Good girl,” Hoseok praises, hands strong on your shoulders as he helps you down, elbows propping yourself up awkwardly in the space that Jungkook’s shuffled back from. “Gotta warm Kookie up too, don’t we? Open up, princess.”

Like this, you’re able to keep upright, but barely, craning your neck to look up at Jungkook. His cock is in front of you, and this close you can see just how flushed it is, the tip almost perfect. Hoping your pleading gaze can communicate your desperation, you open your mouth, letting your tongue rest just over your bottom lip.

Jungkook’s brows furrow in wanton need as he glances towards Hoseok. “Can I touch her, Master? Help her?”

“Of course,” Hoseok’s voice allows from behind you, palms running over the flesh of your ass, “but my little prince better not cum.”

Jungkook visibly shivers at the nickname, hips jerking uselessly. “Y-yes, Master,” he allows, before tipping your chin up so gently, gripping himself to guide his length into your waiting mouth. 

You moan the moment your lips wrap around his tip, the tang of his precum bursting on your tongue as you flick it over the slit, making Jungkook thrust up again, enough that his cock reaches the back of your mouth. You’re barely able to avoid gagging, but you inhale harshly through your nose, blinking up at him as he brushes your hair back with a shaky apology. 

Knowing he can’t orgasm, Jungkook seems happy enough to lazily roll his hips, just enjoying the wet warmth around him as you follow his rhythm, enjoying the slight ache of your jaw around his girth. Hoseok gives you only a few moments to reach this equilibrium before you feel his cock lining up against you. 

Eyes widening, you’re given no time to prepare as he slides inside you, slowly but without pause, making your back arch with the intrusion.

You moan, muffled, as Hoseok pulls out and begins to pick up a steady pace, once again sliding right past your g-spot, not fast enough to make your toes curl and not deep enough to make your eyes roll. There’s no denying he’s doing it on purpose, and the thought that he might not let you cum at all has you whining desperately around Jungkook’s cock, loud enough that Hoseok hears.

To your disappointment, he tsks and pulls out, tugging at your hair to pull you off Jungkook. “What the fuck?” you complain bitterly, sucking off the drool that’s accumulated in the corners of your mouth. Equally deprived, Jungkook makes a noise of confusion, but before he can speak up, a commanding voice calls out to you.

“That’s it, on your back,” Hoseok orders, making you jump as he smacks the flesh of your ass. “If you’re gonna be ungrateful you won’t get anything at all.”

You pout, craning your neck to look back at him. “Hobi,” you whine, hoping to appeal to that soft inner that got you what you wanted the last time you were scening with him, but it doesn’t work. 

Impatient, his hands find your hips, flipping you around unceremoniously. Your breath is punched out of you as you’re suddenly landing on your back, and you whimper as he hooks a finger in your harness over the top of your breast, using it to tug you higher up the bed so that him and Jungkook are on either side of your waist. 

“You’ve been far better behaved,” Hoseok directs at Jungkook casually, reaching into the duffle bag to pull out a square foil packet, “so you’ll get my cock instead.”

Jungkook bites his lip harshly, shuffling on his knees as Hoseok rolls a condom on. “Thank you, Master,” he replies politely, eyes lidded and needy. 

“What a good boy,” Hoseok coos, reaching over to brush a fond hand over Jungkook’s cheek. “Do you wanna fuck Y/n too, my little prince?” You let out a low groan at the prospect, at the way Hoseok speaks for you like you’re a toy of his. The thought is more erotic than you’d expect, and your legs part unconsciously.

Jungkook whimpers at the sight, dark hair curling at his temples with perspiration. “Please, Master.”

“Go on, then, baby.” Hoseok gestures for him to straddle you, and you whimper as Jungkook’s form blocks the light from the ceiling, framing him in a silhouette of dark hair. 

Your legs part further as he settles between them, cock brushing between your folds lightly until he puts a hand down to line himself up. With one arm bracing himself, Jungkook slowly drives his cock deep inside you, small rocking motions to get you accustomed to him as he bottoms out. The two of you groan in unison, the feeling of being full again like bliss.

Before Jungkook can set a pace, you hear Hoseok’s voice again behind him. “There’s only one thing,” the dom adds in an apologetic tone, “Y/n hasn’t earned an orgasm yet, not like my sweet prince has. If you want to fuck her, Jungkookie, she better not cum.”

You let out a frustrated moan, heel kicking into the mattress. “Fuck,” you whine, hips already rocking against Jungkook’s length inside of you, “are you serious?”

Calmly, Hoseok clicks open a bottle of what must be lube, and you feel Jungkook go lax above you, holding his weight off of your torso but dropping his head onto the bed beside yours, groaning lowly. “Of course I’m serious,” he explains simply as he preps Jungkook with his fingers, “I’m doing you a favour, Y/n. This way you won’t make the same mistake twice.”

You sob, feeling Jungkook twitch inside you from the pleasure he’s receiving from Hoseok. As the dom finally deems Jungkook ready and lines himself up, you realise why Hoseok was so popular at his job. Handling two subs, let alone one who was getting punished and one who was now getting rewarded, was a tough balance, and yet he does it with such cool and professional ease. 

Jungkook curses, rocking his hips with stuttered gasps, and you feel the impact of Hoseok’s hips through Jungkook’s body as he thrusts the first time, the camboy hurriedly throwing his other arm up on the other side of your head to prop himself up with more stability. You can feel the rhythm as he gets fucked, and the way his chest heaves, breaths panting over your bare shoulder. 

With your hands tied to your chest and lain on your back, you quickly realise there is nothing you can do to chase any pleasure for yourself, and you let out another low sob. You won’t be making the same mistake twice indeed, you muse as Jungkook barely shifts inside you. He feels so good, but it’s just not enough for you to get anywhere close to your own high. The lesson has most certainly been learned; if you want pleasure, you play by Hoseok’s rules.

“Please, Master,” you pipe up desperately, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder to the dom’s face, calm even as his hips rock with the graceful fluidity of a dancer, every stroke making Jungkook cry out. “I’ll do anything, Master, I’m sorry for being bad, just please let me come!”

A grin spreads across his face, satisfied, even as he grunts from exertion, Jungkook trembling above you as he’s brought mercilessly to the edge. “It’s too late for that,” Hoseok pants out with a chuckle, “it’s already time for my little prince to cum.”

Jungkook moans, a high-pitched keen at the pet-name, and the sound is so sinful you can’t help but clench, making him stiffen impossibly inside you. 

It only takes a thrust or two more, and a gruff command to cum before Jungkook does just that, spilling inside you with a drawn-out whine, thanking his Master with every breath he can suck into his lungs. 

He manages to keep his weight off of you as he rides his high, Hoseok fucking him into oversensitivity before he pulls out, leaving briefly to discard the condom. Jungkook pulls out of you with a wince, but a satisfied one, and rolls over onto his back, running his fingers under the lines of rope lazily as he catches his breath.

Once Hoseok returns, he begins untying you first, and as your wrists are loosened from your chest and promptly released, the cool air on your skin feels like defeat. Your eyes slip shut, a pout no doubt on your lips as you give him nothing but dead weight, forcing the professional to manhandle your torso as he undoes the rope bit by bit. 

You open your eyes once he’s done, frowning at him as he releases the rope from Jungkook’s body. Without looking, Hoseok chastises you. “Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds, “I’m sure next time you’ll be behaved like our Jungkookie here.” The boy in question preens softly at the compliment, blinking up at Hoseok as the dom brushes his hair out of his eyes.

The sight warms your heart, and you can’t deny that Hoseok has the right to discipline you, no doubt feeling self-conscious about his place on the show. And the feeling of him playing you so skilfully is something that will stick with you for a good while. You press your thighs together, sighing out at the slick still between them.

After finishing with Jungkook, speaking quietly with him in praise or reassurance, he comes back around to you, rubbing at the few red marks on your chest and wrists that have appeared from your movements. His eyes search your face, and you’re surprised to see the absolute calm in them, clearly switched out of the Master persona and just into a dominant but caring one. “Not hurt?” 

You shake your head after taking the time to really think it through, wiggling your fingers and toes.

“Not angry?” 

Again, you take a moment to consider, but shake your head.

Hoseok smiles down at you, warm as he squeezes your hands fondly. “Good. Now I know you can’t sleep in your own bed, so Jungkookie has kindly offered for you to stay here with him. Take care of each other, okay? I’m just down the hall.”

By the time Hoseok zips up his pants - you note that even after all that, you hadn’t seen him properly naked - and gathers his bag, Jungkook’s managed to slip his legs under the blankets, snoring away peacefully with the aftermath of a good orgasm.

After the dom leaves, you get under the covers yourself, watching the relaxing cycle of Jungkook’s chest rising and falling, the way his eyes flutter lightly in his sleep, but it doesn’t lull you to unconsciousness.

Instead, the unsatisfied throb between your legs just grows more ferocious than ever. If you could just get yourself off…

Your hand trails down, slipping between your legs naturally, but the first swipe of your index finger against your clit gives you pause. Hoseok had pretty clearly stated that you weren’t to masturbate without permission unless you were in a scene with another contestant and, well… 

You grimace as Jungkook snuffles in his sleep, wriggling around to get more comfortable. You can’t exactly wake him up.

Which leaves you with only one option.

Fuck it. As quietly as you can, you slip out of bed, stumbling over to your pile of clothes. After retrieving your phone - still somehow tucked neatly into your pants pocket - you hop back into bed and seek out the one contact who can alleviate your need. Hoseok himself.

You answer the call with shaking fingers, those not still buried inside you. When Hoseok’s voice comes through, it’s thankfully quiet and low, but the words still make you keen.

“Princess couldn’t wait until the morning, hm?” Hoseok chuckles quietly at your whine of response. “That’s okay. Let Master help you.”

You sigh out, sitting the phone so that it lies on the pillow beside you. “Please, Master,” you whisper, “can I touch my clit?”

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “such a polite girl now. Baby took her lesson well. You can touch it, princess. Get yourself close for me.”

When you change the angle of the fingers thrusting inside you to make room to rub at your clit, you could cry from the satisfaction, biting your lip to muffle the moan that’s pulled from your lungs. 

Glancing quickly beside you to ensure Jungkook’s asleep, the sight of him sleeping so peacefully as you get off right beside him has you clenching down, and your back arches off the bed. 

Your high is close, and the faster you strum your clit frantically, the more you pant, desperate to keep quiet. Your mouth drops open as you suddenly feel the orgasm approaching, and you turn to the phone on the pillow, getting close enough that he can hear your whisper. “I’m go-gonna cum, Hoseokie, fuck,” you choke out before quickly pressing your lips together, preventing further noise.

His voice is low velvet on the phone, a calm command. “Cum for Master now, princess.”

You feel your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, crashing so violently that you curl over your hands, shivering and convulsing as pleasure rocks every inch of your body. As it floods you entirely, you feel hot tears stream down your face, ones you didn’t even know you were shedding. Your thighs shake and your chest heaves and you don’t stop your fingers until there’s no more pleasure left to be milked from you. 

When you finally cum down from your high, panting, you fumble clumsily for the phone. “Tha-thank you, Master.”

Perhaps it’s the post-orgasm delirium, but you swear you hear the smile in his voice when he murmurs, “you’re most welcome, princess. Now get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

After hanging up, you lock your phone and chuck it down onto the carpet beside the bed carelessly, the wetness between your thighs no longer uncomfortable, now just a satisfying reminder of the pleasure he finally allowed you. Taking one last look at the tranquil face of Jungkook as he slept, you let yourself join him in a blissful unconsciousness.

ELIMINATION GRAPH

No elimination this week ! What a doozy, huh? If you were curious, here are the results of the vote!

It was taken after exactly 48 hours of the poll being open, and required a sign-in with email to prevent spamming so that it was as fair as possible!

In the future, we’ll use this format for both Fan Favourite and Elimination voting. I’ll tell you the top three for audience fan-favourites in the following chapter, and for elimination you’ll find out Y/n’s final decision in the following chapter, plus this graph at the end for the complete results.

Thanks for all your support !

[shedobewritingtho]

To the stars - Park Jinyoung

! nsfw - smut !

2,9 k

Big thanks to @ihateeveryone2021 for requesting this prompt and also for having patience with me all this time. Enjoy reading it!

**also this needs editing and a "read more", I'm mentioning this because I know I have to include this, and for that I'll be back later. Thanks for your patience! 💕

"Come on, you have to be active in order to learn how to use it properly." Bambam whines while taking Jinyoung"s phone in order to show him how reels work. "I know you are a bit older but I was not expecting you to act as if you were born in the past century."

"Give it back." Jinyoung says on a pouty tone, while reaching out and snatching his phone out of his friend's hand. "I don't need your help if you're going to insult me."

"Well good luck then!" his friend answers while laughing. "You better be coming with me this weekend, I have already bought two tickets."

"Yeah, whatever." the elder says while focusing on his phone.

Bambam's love for fashion was a good excuse for the two to go out and have some fun. There was this upcoming runway show they wanted to attend and it was getting closer and closer, making Bambam act like the fake maknae he is out of excitement.

On the other hand, Jinyoung was getting really bored and thought that a good way to promote himself would be social media, the tool everyone uses lately. There was one problem though. He never found too much interest in this before so he was not the most skilled influencer on the platform. His picture-taking skills were not bad, but when it came to selfies, the poor boy had to try hard. Posting was not a pleasure either, the descriptions not making any sense in his opinion and the commands on instagram not being really easy to follow.

So here comes the deal: Jinyoung agreed to go with Bambam on this runway show as long as Bambam would help him learn how to use instagram and other social media. A deal hard to keep when his friend was getting annoyed at his lack of skill.

After giving it some thought, Jinyoung decided against dissapointing his friend, although the instagram skill-learning process was now a solo battle. So here they were, on a saturday evening, ready to attend this big runway show. At least Jinyoung was ready. Bambam was fashionably late, as always, so his friend was now texting him not very cute invitations.

"I should've known he would be late. Ah, sh*t. He's got both tickets. Amazing." Jinyoung mutters to himself while waiting in front of the big building. Even from outside, everything looked shiny and expensive, as expected. People were entering the building in a calm, calculated manner, no hustle. Everyone was dressed nice and had an exquisite aura. Jinyoung really loved the place, even from outside, so he had a really good idea: what about trying to take a really cool selfie there? The lights were amazing and everyone seemed to think the same.

He took his phone out of his pocket, looked for the instagram app and, after a few taps, he managed to open the app's camera. Here comes the hard part. Jinyoung extends his arm in order to include in the picture the amazing background he had. Because of his poor skills, though, he finds himself stumbling and moving a bit around, trying to get the perfect picture. While taking a step back, he bumps into someone.

"I'm so sorry." he manages to speak after meeting your eyes. You give him a kind and reassuring look.

"No problem, you seem to struggle a bit with that phone." you say chuckling.

"This selfie is harder to take than I thought. I wanted the nice background in the picture, but it seems I was a little bit to greedy, right?" he defends himself while laughing too.

"Mmm, don't think so. Here, let me help." you say while taking his phone. You position the camera in a way that includes everything in frame: Jinyoung, the background and yourself. "Smile. Or pose." you say and then press the button, taking a gorgeous picture.

"Woah, you are good." he exhales while relaxing from the stiff position he was in while the picture was taken. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure. Here, post it." you say while giving the phone back, then take a quick look at your wristwatch. Another minute and you were late. "I'm sorry, but I have to go." is all you manage to scream while running inside leaving Jinyoung confused.

"Goodbye to you too I guess." he says while following you with his gaze, only now noticing that you were entering the building without the guards checking your ticket. "Now how do I post it?" Jinyoung sighs while tapping again, succeeding right when Bambam came.

"Sorry I'm late Nyoung." he says while hugging Jinyoung's arm.

"Okay, I forgive you. Stop it with the cutesy stuff." the elder says while struggling to get the younger one off his arm.

After admiring the building from the outside, Jinyoung had to admit that the inside was at a whole next level. It perfectly fitted his taste, it was a delight. Shortly after the show started, Jinyoung notices a familiar face walking down the runway stage. Your outfit was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen and your make up was suble, but it revealed your beautiful features. There was a shine all over your body that made you look ethereal. The way the reflector's light fell on your shiny pieces of clothing. He was amazed, looking up at your every step, feeling like in a trance. Everything made sense now, how you approached him out of nowhere and offered to help take a selfie. More than that, you allowed him to post a picture that showed your face without a doubt. Were you expecting him to recognize you? That was confusing.

As you make your way to the backstage, Jinyoung takes his phone out to check on the notifications  which, speaking of, were blowing up. It didn't take him much reading to discover that he has just posted a casual selfie with the hottest model right before you went on stage. Everyone was praising your looks and saying how well your face complimented his. "Jinyoung and Y/N in the same picture? Now my life is complete.", "I didn't know GOT7's Jinyoung is friend with Y/N *shocked face*", "They really look good in this picture." were only a few comments he read before shoving the phone back into his pocket. The rest of the show he spent zoning out while thinking about your looks, wishing you would walk in front of him at least one more time, but you didn't.

"A few days ago you didn't know how to access the search tab and now you just won't stop typing. I'm shocked." Bambam teases his friend.

"Thanks for teaching me." Jinyoung responds without taking his eyes off his phone.

"Okay, I'll go say hi to some friends. Do you want to meet them or I should let you have a few moments alone with that phone?"

"I'll wait here."

How come no verified account shows up when he searches your name? Is there any possibility you don't have an account? No way, you knew exactly how to use instagram earlier and for sure a model like you has to have an account. He just didn't know how to find you. He decided he should look for you in person while still being there. As soon as Bambam came back he asked about you, but no idea. The security guards then said you left early due to an emergency.

"But why are you so eager to find Y/N?" Bambam protests while following his friend through the fancy dressed crowd. "I mean I saw that face so I understand." he then laughs to himself.

Jinyoung stops in front of the building. "Check your instagram." is all he says and the boy opens his app to find the most recent post right on top of his feed. You and Jinyoung smiling right in the same spot they're on right now.

"Oh." silence."I didn't know you knew Y/N."

"I don't, really. I mean I didn't. I don't even know how to find Y/N's instagram account." Jinyoung sighs after his agitated speech.

"I don't know either, Jinyoung. I would've helped you if I knew, sorry." Bambam pats his friend on the back, giving him a sad look.

***

A few weeks passed and Jinyoung gave up trying to find your account. He posted two more pictures and his fans were now focused on the chemistry he had with Youngjae's beloved dog, Coco. It was as if it never happened, except there was a picture he had posted as evidence of a moment so short it meant nothing.

The boys have just finished practice on a thursday evening when Jinyoung's phone started blowing up with notifications again. As soon as he checks it, he finds his dm flooded with links to an instagram live. He opens the most recent one and reads "Oppa, look! Y/N mentioned you!!". A hot shiver goes through his body as he taps on your face on the screen. "Lueur? What's with this name?"

"It's french." Mark whispers. "It's not a name, Jinyoung." he points out the obvious.

"Since when do you know french?" is his defense. "Anyway thanks. I'll leave first." is the last they hear from Jinyoung as he takes his stuff and leaves.

No patience was as big as his curiosity about your ongoing instagram livestream, so he didn't even bother to drive back home. After throwing his backpack in the backseat, Jinyoung opened your live. You were casually chatting with your fans while relaxing in what looked like a hotel room. As soon as everyone saw he had joined watching the live, the whole comment section was filled with Jinyoung's name. You immediately said hi.

It did not take much for him to panic. As soon as he heard your voice saying his name, he became clumsy. All he wanted to do is to salute, but a few taps on the screen led to "@lueur0 invited you to join their live broadcast!" displaying on his device. He quickly accepted without giving it much tought, but regretted as soon as the screen split in two and showed your face on top and darkness on the bottom part.

"I'm sorry, I'm in the car. Let me turn some lights on." he says with an embarrassed face, being grateful that nobody can actually see him.

As soon as the light makes his features visible, you smile. "Good to see you again. I wasn't expecting you to join my live."

"Ah yeah, that.. I thought I could say a proper hi."

"I'm glad you did." you stop and check the number of views. "Woah the audience has doubled up." you laugh again. "Wow, Jinyoung. Check the comments!"

No reaction for a few seconds as Jinyoung was still analyzing the way his name came out of your mouth. Love at first sight was a lie in his opinion, but what about attraction at the third sight? He couldn't really put his finger on what made him feel like this. Was it your smile? Your laugh? The way you said his name? Your looks? Your kind and laid back vibe? Maybe all of them really. There was no doubt, Jinyoung was enjoying his time on your live and like that both of you told the story of your first encounter, him not bothering to leave the parking lot.

After the live was over, you were not surprised to find out that he followed and texted you as soon as he got home. You followed him back, answer his dm and like that, you spent the whole night talking. The more you talked, the more you felt like you knew each other since forever so you promised to meet up as soon as you returned from a business trip.

***

As you check youself in the mirror, fixing a strand of hair that was not sitting where it was supposed to, you hear your phone ringing and know immediately it is Jinyoung.

"I'm in front, you can come." his calm voice welcomes you.

"I'll be there in a minute." you say as you grab your keys, exit your apartment and lock the door. Right after leaving the building, you notice an amazing black shiny car waiting for you. Jinyoung gets out and the big smile on his face makes you feel safe.

It has already been a few weeks since the live stream and since then you've been talking almost everyday. It was easy to get in touch, as you exchanged phone numbers and both had days when you were so busy  you forgot about even having a phone. You get to know each other well and it was not really hard. Although he seemed a little bit shy or reserved at first and knowing his rigid approach on social media before, you were really happy to see how much he enjoyed talking to you.

"Hi." you salute with a smile as big as his and he responds while opening the door for you.

The ride was chill, his driving skills made you feel safe once again and the lights of the night life in the city were perfect. You two decided to dine at a fancy restaurant.

"I can't believe we've both been here before so often but never bumped into each other." you laugh and take sip of water.

"I don't know about you, but I felt like I had seen you before." Jinyoung states and he makes you think about the first time you met months ago, at your modelling show.

"Yeah, that's why you looked so confused when we took that photo." you attack.

"I was not expecting you to do it, that's why." he defends himself. "Ah." you hear Jinyoung say as he winces. "There is something I've always wanted to ask you but never remembered to."

You give him a curious look and nod your head as a sign that you are ready to answer. He then proceeds. "What does your instagram name come from?"

You chuckle. "Well.. I've always wanted to shine, no modesty about it. I always wear the most luminous piece when going on the stage, I am known for looking good in those so I chose lueur. It's a french word that means glimmer, glow and yeah, I know it's not used too much nowadays, but I loved the way it is pronounced. As for the 0, it was the only number I thought looked okay with the word, nothing special." you conclude with a shrug.

"Ohh." he says with an impressed face, you smile. "I agree with that." he stops and looks out the window. "I've got an idea that goes perfectly with your lueur."

You both had finished eating so, after paying, you get into his car, the impatience making you shift in your seat. After what it felt like 10 minutes of driving, you arrive near a stadion.

"Are we there?" you ask, trying to hide the surprise in your voice with a cough.

"Yes." is all Jinyoung says right before pressing a button that makes the roof of the car open, exposing to your eyes a sky so clear you can see every little star. "Cliché, but they remind me of you." he says while staring in your eyes.

You feel his eyes all over you and when they finally meet yours, your whole body reacts to it. His gaze turns dark, you know he feels it too. Why are you only now noticing how his lips look? The tension is so thick between you two, it can be only ripped with physical touch. So that's what you do.

You crash into each other's lips, kissing as if you craved it for way too long. Everything is so intense you don't even realise how loud you are moaning when his lips touch your neck. Every piece of clothing that came between you was taken off one by one until you were both naked. You sit on top of him, with your back pressed on the steering wheel, kissing patches on his collarbone, then going lower, on his nipples. You suck and slightly bite them, enjoying every little moan he lets out. He grabs your waist and lifts you, placing you right on top of him. He then tries to thrust inside you but you lift yourself even higher.

"No babe. Let me do it." you say placing a hand on his chest. Your eyes are glued on his as your palm goes lower and lower until you can feel him in your hand. You smirk then rub and sqeeze it lightly, then position yourself over it. You place both your hands  on the roof of the car and slowly go down, hissing through your teeth. You keep going in and out at the same pace, savouring the hunger in his eyes.

His hands grab on your hips and push you down, filling you completely. You faintly scream at the sudden movement and grab one of his nipples, slowly twisting it while going up and down on his lenght. "I said let me do it, Jinyoung." you whisper at his ear. "Tonight I'll shine on you, okay?" you keep whispering going faster and faster. His hands are going up and down your back, grabbing your ass, while kissing your neck and breasts until you come. After that, you go faster, messing with his hair, leaving kisses and moans all over his skin. He starts thrusting inside you harder, but you don't even care anymore. By the time both of you come, you're covered in sweat and collapse over him on his seat, hardly catching your breath.

"Damn it, Y/N."

[homoose]

Merry Christmas, Baby Girl

Summary: Just Penelope and Derek being in love in the snow. Based on the prompt: What kind of Christmas would it be if we didn’t play in the snow?

Pairing: Penelope Garcia x Derek Morgan

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 1,444

a/n: Ficmas Day 9! Yes, my ficmas has two days of Penelope getting her man because that woman deserves the world and everyone in it and frankly it’s a hate crime that morcia wasn’t canon.

Series Masterlist

———

“Derek Morgan, this is not negotiable. We’re making a snow person.”

Derek sighed. “Baby girl, I moved away from Chicago for a reason. I don’t do snow.”

“Well, I moved away from California for a reason,” she huffed. “And we never get this much snow!”

She was right; DC never got this much snow— especially not in December. Sure, a few inches here and there in January and February. But this year, a freak blizzard had dropped over a foot of snow overnight. The entire city was shut down. It was the first white Christmas they’d had in years. And Derek had zero interest in going out in it.

“You go,” he said, gesturing with his hot chocolate. “I’ll watch from the window.”

“Uh-uh.” When Derek groaned, Penelope rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. An hour in the snow won’t kill you.”

“It just might,” he countered. She pulled her best pout, shuffling toward him with full on puppy dog eyes. He shot her a pointed look. “Don’t even.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, looking up at him from underneath her lashes. “So… you don’t want to spend Christmas Eve… bundled up with the love of your life… wrapping a hand knitted scarf around a jolly snow person… who was brought into this world with love—”

“And who’s going to melt in twelve hours?” Penelope huffed out a breath, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders when she went to pull away. He sighed into her hair. “... you get one hour.”

Penelope squealed and squeezed him tight, and Derek couldn’t stop the smile from turning up the corners of his mouth. “And only because I love you.”

She leaned up to press a quick, chaste kiss to his mouth. “I’m quite certain that I love you more. So much that I’ll even help you get bundled up.”

The two of them got dressed in their layers— two pairs of pants, long sleeved shirts, sweaters, and jackets. They laced up their snow boots and stuffed their hands into waterproof gloves. And then Penelope wound one of her ridiculously soft scarves around his neck, wrapping it once, twice, and then tugging him down by the ends for another kiss. He brought his hands to her hips, tugging her as close as possible through the combined six layers of clothing. His fingers tightened around his favorite part of her and she laughed into his mouth before swatting him with the fringe of the scarf.

“You will not get out of this with seduction, sir.” She tugged a matching beanie over his head, tapping on the little puff ball on top. “God, how are you so cute?”

He pulled her hat down a little more snugly over her loose curls. “I got it from my mama.”

She smiled at that. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Fran Morgan, thank you for giving me the love of my life.” She turned to retrieve a wicker basket from the entryway side table.

Derek eyed the basket, overflowing with miscellaneous items. “What’s all that?”

Her lips quirked up in a small smile, and she grabbed his hand. “You’ll see. Come on, hot stuff.”

They trudged out into the middle of the yard, and Penelope hemmed and hawed over the perfect location for far too long. When she finally decided, marking it with a little x, Derek leaned down to start scooping up snow. She waved her hands frantically. “No, no, no— you can’t take the snow from there.”

He furrowed his brows. “Well, excuse me. Then where am I supposed to get the snow from, pretty girl?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “If you use all the snow from there, you’ll expose the dead grass, and then she won’t look good for pictures.”

“She?”

“Yes, she,” Penelope confirmed. “She’s going to be an icon and a diva, and I will not have her surrounded by ugly, brown grass.”

They spent the better part of an hour rolling snow across the lawn, each snowball growing in size until Penelope deemed it satisfactory. To her credit, she rolled the middle snowball entirely by herself, and Derek only had to help her a little in the lifting. Then, he worked on smoothing the base of their snow person, while she got the shape of the head just right.

Derek stood and dusted the snow off his knees, watching as Penelope retrieved the wicker basket from where she’d set it down earlier. She pulled a bright orange scarf out of the top and handed it to him. “Here. Bundle her up,” she ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled and wrapped the chunky knit scarf around the head of their creation. She handed him a carrot, and he dug out a little starter hole before positioning the carrot and packing it in with some fresh snow. She pulled two brown buttons out of the basket, sticking them on as the eyes.

“Okay, make the smile with these.” She dumped a pile of red buttons into his outstretched hands.

As he pressed the buttons into a curve, he watched Penelope fasten three beaded necklaces and wedge in two large jewels for earrings. The snow might not be his thing, but Penelope Garcia certainly was. His god given solace, his compass, his ray of sunshine, his queen, his literal angel on earth.

They’d danced around it for so many years— each of them always with someone else or not ready to commit. The shameless flirting became their thing, something they just did that no one questioned. It became so routine that he missed the moment that their philia became eros. He couldn’t even call it falling, because with falling, there’s always a collision. Loving Penelope was floating—buoyant, ebullient, liberating.

When he’d finally pressed his mouth to hers that first time— really kissed her—after a horrific case that he almost didn’t come back from, he was worried that maybe he’d been too late. They’d said I love you so many times before, but he’d never said I’m in love with you, it’s only you, I’m ready for you, it’s never felt like this, you’re the sun and the moon and the stars all at once.

But then she’d kissed him back, and he hadn’t been too late, and she was with him. And everything and nothing changed. It was still all flirting, but this time they could back it up. And he really, really loved backing it up with Penelope Garcia.

She caught his eye and quirked a brow and brought him back to himself. He grinned and held his hands out at his creation, and she inspected it with a nod of approval. He could see that the basket was almost empty, but there were a few more items left. She pulled out three ornate gold buttons, pressing them firmly to the torso. “And the finishing touch for our snow diva.” Derek laughed when she placed the teal, feathered hat at a slight angle on top.

“She’s pretty incredible.” He tucked her under his arm and hugged her close. “Like someone else I know.”

Her arms snaked around his waist. “Mmmhmm. And don’t you forget it.”

“I could never.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But your hour is up, sweetness.”

“We have to get some pictures with her first,” she said, pulling out her phone. When he groaned, she continued, “And then, we’ll go inside, and I’ll help you get all—” kiss, “warmed—” kiss, “up.” She whispered the last bit against his mouth and gave him a sweet, sultry smile.

“I like the sound of that.” He tried to kiss her again, but she laughed and pushed him off, gesturing toward their snow woman.

“I’m sure you do, my love.” It was funny the way his heart still soared when she called him that, even though he’d heard it a thousand times. “Now, give her a kiss.” He sighed, but leaned down to pucker up next to their creation. He heard the shutter sound and stayed still for two more, well practiced in the art of posing for Penelope’s pictures. “Perfect!”

He held his hand out to her. She laced their gloved fingers together, and he tugged her forward, catching her when she toppled into him. Brown eyes met brown eyes, and then he watched as a snowflake fell onto her nose. He grabbed her phone, quickly opening the camera and snapping a picture before it melted. “Mmm, that’s a perfect photo.” He pressed a kiss onto the tip of her nose, right over the top of the snowflake. “Now, let’s go inside so I can kiss my real diva.”

———

some snow diva inspiration x x x

Permanent tags: @andiebeaword @averyhotchner @pinkdiamond1016 @shadyladyperfection @coffeeandendlesswords @justanothetfangirl @no-honey-no @ajeff855 @sapphic-prentiss @eevee0722 @rexorangecouny @rainsong01 @goldentournesol @blameitonthenight21​ @moviequeen51​

Series tags: @wastingborrowedtime @90spumkin @wordvomit-foryourmind

[liam-93-productions]

Liam’s full interview with Tings Magazine - Part 1

Note: the interview was recorded in may 2020.

Justin Campbell: What is the weirdest YouTube/Instagram trend hole that you’ve fallen into? Liam: One that always gets me is putting Mentos in Pepsi or Coke. We all know what happens, but we have to watch the ending. I’ve seen it about fifty times, and it doesn’t change. But it’s weird finding out what things are interesting when you’re stuck inside. It’s a crazy ride watching the world react to this. It’s almost like everybody’s become a street performer. You see these people on the street who have a special skill like magic and the internet is now the place for that and everybody does it. 

Do you feel pressured to participate? Is there currency in that? Does that keep you relevant? I think artists have had to change a lot to fit in. There used to be mystery where you didn’t know too much about their lives, whereas we are in my living room now for all the world to see. I think that’s the biggest change of these newer platforms. I think you have to join in if you want to stay relevant. If you look at someone like Jason Derulo, he has 19 million followers on TikTok and he just started. His old songs are re-charting because of the TikTok chart. So, you can’t just make music and expect it to go well anymore. There has to be a personality and a story. It’s not quite the same anymore. 

There’s so many differente avenues to keep up with. There’s Instagram, YouTube, TikTok. It used to be you did radio, tours and late-night television. Now there seem to be a dozen things to do.  It’s crazy, this last promo schedule for me, having to do it indoors. I had to learn how to do a bunch of different jobs for the people that couldn’t be here. We put up a green screen in my lounge. We moved all the sofas, me and the camera guy that is staying with me set up the green screen and then you have to film it as well. It’s just crazy the amount of different things that you have to get involved in right now to stay relevant. And that’s all it is. The majority of the stuff isn’t really doing anything, but it’s doing loads at the same time if that makes sense. It’s a difficult thing to get used. And also, things have gotten jovial. So, you have to learn to make fun of ourselves. You can’t be Mr. Serious pop-star anymore. People aren’t really attracted to that anymore. People like the fun side of you, your personality and your humor come through on these things. It’s crazy. I thought about when I joined TikTok the other week, there’s a pressure to film something fun. But then if you are not having fun filming it, you’re not going to film a fun video. And I didn’t want to live my life every day thinking I got to film a video or nobody is going to care. I spent an hour trying to think of stuff and I don’t want to live my life like this. I enjoy then. I like going on TikTok and getting lost in a little TikTok rabbit hole, we all do, but I don’t know if I’m that way inclined mentally. 

With the need to share more, to share a comedic side or a vulnerable side, where do you draw the line? When do you stop sharing? How much of it is constructed sharing and how much of it is authentic sharing? It’s difficult. I’m very prone to enjoy a moment rather than take my camera out and film it. I’m always one of those people who take a picture of a sunset and then never look at it and say why did I bother taking the picture. I’d rather enjoy the moment. We live in a day and age where the camera phone is people’s first thought for things. And I’m just not one of those people. Humorous stuff will happen and it will be off the cuff, but we didn’t film it. And it will be like “aw, should we recreate it?” But we don’t want to recreate it. It just feels stupid. It always feels forced in that sense. So for me, I definitely struggle with sharing moments.  And you have those people out there, who are literally willing to do anything. There’s a trend for people who are shaving their eyebrows off at the moment. I’m not going to shave my eyebrows off so people will care a little more. That just doesn’t register with me. You have Jake and Logan Paul, who do a lot of crazy, crazy things to get noticed. And it’s like where do you draw the line. 

These platforms make it challenging to carve out a private life. People expect more and more of celebrities’ lives to be shared. They feel they have ownership of every aspect of people’s lives. What are your thoughts on that? From the start of this lockdown, the first James Corden TV performance was filmed in the lounge and we went through my whole house. I can remember back in the day when a newspaper sent out the photos of my house. I don’t like people knowing where I sleep because it’s a security problem for me. I had a big complaint about that. Now fast forward 5-6 years and the world has changed to where nothing is really a private or intimate moment. It’s strange. As One Direction, we were in an era on the rise of Twitter. I think Twitter helped us a lot. It was the way we trended on Twitter that actually made us famous. But being on the cusp of that internet stardom, we didn’t really care about how many followers [we had].  Now, it’s become a currency. I just struggle to take those things seriously, that it is part of the job because it feels so foreign. When we had apps as kids, there was no way to becoming MSN famous. Now kids want to be an Instagrammer or a TikTokker. It’s crazy. We never had that. 

You said something about people chasing the currency of liked and follows. Kids are thinking about that validation when they are creating content. How much of that are you thinking about it when you create music or social media/video content? I think, for me, I don’t often pay attention to how many likes thing gets. As a pop star, you have to have an average amount per post. We have to have meetings now where people will go through posts, and tell you why this works. Which for me, it seems insane, but you have this persona that you have to keep up online. And definitely, when posting certain things, you are gauging whether it’s going to get a reaction or there’s no point in posting it. And that’s always been the problem for me. I’m hoping for a big reaction for stuff which limits the amount you post because you think there’s no point posting this.  Often the people who do the best in these scenarios are the people that didn’t mean for it to happen. Someone makes a little challenge like The Ice Bucket Challenge. Someone thought I’ll do this. It will be fun for us to film and because they are having fun, everyone is like we will get involved. If you think about it too much, it will overtake you. For the longest time, I didn’t post a lot. I got off of Twitter because of the backlash and the fact that you are always going to annoy someone with a post. I was like, I can’t deal with it. I might as well keep it to myself. There’s no disappointment. 

I think that’s part of the condition of being an artist. You crave a certain amount of validation.  When it’s work, you can take that some people won’t get it. But because everything has become so personal now like it’s about you. You sell your personality to people. It’s like if someone asks you “what five things do you want people to know about you”. And everyone goes, well, I’d like to be... You suddenly think, what we are doing every day online is trying to sell ourselves.  It’s a difficult balance. You have to have the right amount of humor and humility and the right amount of this. It’s so difficult to find that person. And you see people who become caricatures of themselves online. They overdo it. You don’t know what works any why it works. The internet is such an untested experiment. The public decides. It’s so crazy.

You just said that it can feel so personal, which I think is such an honest statement because when you are putting yourself out there, it is hard to celebrate the work and you. When people don’t like something, it can feel like they are personally attacking you.  It genuinely scares me sometimes. Even to post a selfie, because you just don’t know what the recipe is. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m just trying to stay around if that makes sense. I don’t know, it’s difficult. The fact that you just let it go and it’s gone and people either take it or leave it. It’s like jumping on stage every time you post, which scares me anyway. 

You’ve spoken pretty openly about dealing with depression and anxiety. How does this level of exposure impact your ability to manage your anxiety? Before all of this started, the first day of school would probably be when you are your most anxious. Or it’s your own clothes day and you don’t know what to wear. That feels like what everyone is going through every single day online. It’s like the teen generation has so many more questions to answer that we had. I know as a kid I was quite stressed. I can’t imagine how these kids feel these days.  The only way I can relate is by how I feel in this scenario. Obviously, being a little bit older, you are a little wiser with it. I thinks it’s a different kind of pressure these days. It’s a worldwide pressure. The fact that anyone can become a superstar overnight or also the most embarrassing thing in the world and the line is that thin. I can’t imagine what is like for kids growing up in that scenario. For me, it’s raised a lot of questions about my mental health and having to deal with these things. I’ve been running a pilot with someone for people in my position, people who struggle with fame, with the position that they get themselves. You don’t really realize the playbook you’re pressing. Once you’re in it, you’re in it.  I started from 14-16, were my two start years. And the only answer that people had for you was that you’ve got have thick skin. But I don’t think that’s really the point because once you are here, you have to find out if your skin is thick enough. You have to learn. For the longest time, if somebody wrote something about me in the press, I’d rise back up and bring back up. I didn’t realize they were trying to bait me out because they knew I’d do that. Then they’d write three more articles about the scenario that I didn’t want them to write about. You can only know that with years of experience. If something comes out now, I just leave it to die and go away and that’s it. I just think it’s difficult when people say the only answer is that you have to have thick skin to do this. 

That’s not really a solution. That’s just saying you asked for this. This is just part of it, which I don’t think is fair. Is fame something that you struggle with a lot? For me, there’s different periods, severe highs with different things and a lot of questions about stuff. I’ve been going at this now for ten years, which seems insane. I’m only 26 as well, which is quite a long time to be doing anything. And to be in this pressure cooker for that long is quite difficult, but I say I’ve learned to deal with it better now. Age and time are wonderful things. And we were buffered as teens. We had each other in the band. When I look at someone like Justin Bieber, I think no wonder he went completely mental at some point because there is no one in the world that knows what is like to be Justin Bieber, but Justin Bieber. He had no one to share it with. We had each other to share it with, to remember it with and be reminded how to behave, how to act. You shouldn’t do that. It was tough at some points, but for the most part it was helpful growing up in that team exercise rather than be let off on your own and you’re the most famous person in the world. It must have been pretty crazy for him.