#i listened to twice 4 this no idea why | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jk97 · 8 months

Text

Unprofessional Attraction | ONE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 13K ♡ series synopsis - There's no such thing as a coincidence, right? CollegeSenior!Reader (22) and linguistics teacher Yunho Jeong (27) indulge in an entanglement of inappropriate gravitation. It's risky and it's wrong, but listening to one's better judgment never leads to anything as intoxicating. When someone threatens this secret relationship with blackmail to expose the truth, things take a turn for the worse. Graduation can't seem to come fast enough. ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), slight age gap, teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, pining, some obsessive behavior and manipulation (mainly from reader), drinking alcohol, inebriated driving (big no no frens!) perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, sprinkles of praise, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (mention of bc pill tho), porn with plot ♡ A/N - part one is kinda tame, the next two parts will have more explicit scenes. I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to the rest! I haven't posted a fic on tumblr in many years so pls be kind ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Yeosang is too attentive, especially when it comes to his best friend.

That’s why he knows you well enough to call you out when he whispers, “You’re staring again.”

“I’m staring at the whiteboard, pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to do in class,” you argue, not bothering to even glance at him. It’s quite obvious that your eyes are too busy soaking in things that don’t have to do with phonology.

Your linguistics teacher, Yunho Jeong, is dressed particularly charmingly today. Something about the tight-fitting white polo shirt and chocolate brown slacks he has on this class is too distracting. It doesn’t help that his hair is a little more messy than usual, you wonder if he was running late this morning. Linguistics has nothing to do with your major, however, for your final semester in college, you simply needed a filler class for your last few credits. Yeosang suggested joining him in this class so you could both support each other, but he never factored in the fact that you’d be too distracted by the teacher to do anything of use for him. There weren’t many younger teachers such as Yunho at your university; in fact, you were pretty sure this was only his second semester teaching in general. He was generally a mild-mannered and easygoing teacher, but he was also able to command a room when necessary.

A minute later, Yunho offers everyone a 10-minute break since the last section of his lecture lasted a little longer than he anticipated, and the class immediately breaks out into chatter.

“He’s single, you know,” Yeosang turns towards you and props up his head on his palm, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Don’t tell me things like that, you’ll make me delusional.”

He doesn’t miss the goofy smile tugging at your lips as you stretch your tired limbs from too much sitting. The lectures for this class were two hours long, but they were only twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays, so you couldn’t complain too much.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That I might have a chance with him,” you nudge him playfully.

“I’m not sure he’d want to date someone barely passing his own class,” Yeosang quips quickly, subsequently squeezing his eyes shut when you flick his forehead in response.

“Watch your mouth, I am not ‘barely passing’!” You return your eyes to the subject of your conversation, slowly taking in his form, “For the record, I could definitely pull him if I tried to. You think he likes younger women?”

“That is a terrible idea,” your best friend immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Surely I would be guaranteed to pass then though, no?” you offer instead, half-joking.

“You haven’t gotten laid in the last month and this is the first person that comes to your mind to fix that?” Yeosang scoffs incredulously.

“I wouldn’t just be in it for the sex,” you clarify. Your keen eyes watch his every move, from the way that his large hands flex as he thumbs at his phone to the way he purses his lips in curiosity at whatever he’s looking up. Like a lion stalking a gazelle before pouncing. “He’s quite literally perfect. Tall, smart, handsome, financially stable… the whole package. I deserve a man like that, right Yeo?”

You meet Yeosang’s eyes curiously, and he reminds you, “I think you’re forgetting he’s our teacher .”

“We graduate soon,” you whine, “Act now, worry later. I could graduate with a boyfriend already lined up the minute I get handed my degree.”

“You’re playing with fire, ____,” he holds his hands up in surrender. As your best friend, he knows you’re not joking, despite how much you might play it off later. He knows that once you set your mind on something, you generally don’t stop until it’s achieved, “Let’s see you try, though. It’ll be entertaining.”

When class resumes, you listen to the rest of his lecture with renewed cravings and an unusually optimistic disposition Yeosang has never seen you hold for this subject.

From that moment forward, every instance you “stumbled” across your teacher was planned. You figured out which parking lot he parked his car on during the day and bought a proper parking pass for that lot, now alternating between taking the shuttle and your car to the university. Your schedules crossed occasionally on your driving days, and you’d simply offer warm greetings or cheerful send-offs depending on the time of day. Yunho was a man of habit who visited the same campus restaurant nearly every day he worked during lunchtime in between his midday classes. It didn’t take much energy to stop by a couple of days a week and run into Yunho, giving you the ability to strike up a conversation or two when asking for recommendations on what you should order. These instances were simply to put you more on his radar, instead of just being a face in the sea of students in his class.

He seems to be good friends with two other teachers who are also around his age, teachers Seonghwa Park and San Choi. You wonder if getting in their good graces would somehow transfer to your teacher, by word of mouth. Luckily, you have a friend who has Mr. Park for a history seminar. On a Sunday night, you shoot a text to set the stage.

[Y/N: Jongho!!!! It’s been so long since we’ve hung out :(( Can I swing by your class tomorrow and pick you up? Let’s get lunch!]

When 2 PM rolls around on Monday, you make the mistake of trusting the shuttle to come on time. It’s nearly 3 PM when you get to the necessary building, and you’re sure Jongho’s class ended close to half an hour ago. The plan to run across Mr. Park is thrown completely out of the window, you are only worried about Jongho being upset with you. You know he’d never, but still. Being late to something planned ahead of time always upsets you to no end. You curse at yourself over and over every stride down the hall, and it’s good that the hallways are virtually empty or else you’d probably look crazy. Eventually, you make it to your destination.

You’re just about to blindly call out an apology to Jongho but end up stopping dead in your tracks as soon as you enter the door; not only is Mr. Park in the room seated at his desk, but he’s also accompanied by Mr. Choi and Mr. Jeong. They’re huddled together, Yunho leaning against the whiteboard leisurely with a cup of coffee in his hand while intently listening to Seonghwa complain about the registrar’s office fucking up another one of his student’s enrollment for his class.

“There she is,” Jongho sighs this aloud as if his prayers have been answered.

He didn’t know if you were going to still make it and he’s dying of hunger from skipping breakfast. Immediately, all three men’s eyes turn towards the entrance. You pray to God that your face isn’t flushed with how hot you feel being the fixation of so many eyes. Or maybe it’s more so how handsome the men are that those eyes are coming from. This surely isn’t the time to have such a weakness for a strapping man in a button-up and crisp slacks.

“Hello, ____,” Yunho is the first of the three to speak. Subsequently, San amiably nods toward you in acknowledgment.

“Good afternoon all,” you greet everyone, bashfully adding, “I’m so sorry for interrupting.”

“Not interrupting at all,” Seonghwa waves his hands, dispelling those fears, “We were curious why Jongho was sticking back so late. He assured us a friend was coming to get him and we just chose not to leave him.”

Well, this is embarrassing. You nod hastily and glance toward Jongho, who is practically skipping down the lecture hall’s steps. Yunho wants to crack a joke about seeing you everywhere, about how you both must be magnets or something else silly, but he decides to keep that to himself. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s keeping track of course, even if he is.

Instead, he affirms to the other men, “This is a student of mine.”

Admittedly, your ears had tuned every other word out except “mine”, and you nodded a little too enthusiastically. You haven’t been this discomposed in a long time, too bashful to look any of them in the eyes, and you pray it’s not showing too much elsewhere. Jongho’s friendly hand landing on your shoulder grounds you.

“You ready?”

“Absolutely,” you puff out.

“Don’t cause too much trouble for her, Jongho,” Seonghwa pokes a bit of fun at one of his top students, who replies by waving him away and scoffing. They seem to be relaxed with each other— this is something you desire to achieve with Yunho soon. You snatch up your friend’s hand and finally move to leave for lunch, if it could even be considered that now with how late it is.

“See you Wednesday, Mr. Jeong,” you look back and shoot him a wave, accompanied by a charming smile. He nods back, offering you his own as well.

Unbeknownst to you, San’s eyes follow you out the door with Jongho, especially surveying the plush of your thighs rubbing together as you walk. Such as yourself, skirts are surely a weakness of his.

“She’s a senior, right?” he murmurs, half-jokingly.

“Stop it,” Yunho promptly elbows San in the arm, earning a stifled laugh from Seonghwa.

Yunho has heard stories about San’s slight affinity with the pretty college women when he goes out to bars on the weekends. Nobody from his own classes, of course. Needless to say, Yunho would not let him even think about you that way. No way in hell.

“I was just asking, Jesus.”

Seonghwa stretches his limbs from his chair, “It’s never ‘just asking’ with you.”

“You buy a table of women drinks one time and your friends never let you hear the end of it,” he groans with a roll of his eyes, “God you guys are the worst.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what it is,” Seonghwa concedes sarcastically.

“Just don’t make any unannounced visits to my classroom anytime soon, you buffoon,” Yunho chastises him while pressing his cup to his lips, “And I’m serious.”

“You got that,” San yields, “Wouldn’t wanna be a cock-block.”

Yunho nearly spits his coffee, “I beg your pardon?”

San nearly doubles over in laughter and, to Yunho’s surprise, Seonghwa has joined in. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the look they’re sharing and it makes the back of his neck burn with heat. Yunho doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed but he steers the conversation away from discussing you any further. He ignores the feeling of indignation and possessiveness pooling in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide you’ve done what needed to be done outside of the classroom; the cherry on top now was simply to get him alone more privately.

You didn’t have to try very hard for this to happen; your work on your paper outline was already sub-par at best. You did fairly well on the quizzes and packets he passed out once a week, but that final paper preparation was surely going to be a challenge. When you find enough courage in yourself to email him about seeing him during his office hours for extra academic help on formatting your paper and choosing a more concise topic, he replies quickly and enthusiastically. According to your syllabus, the topic should relate to what you’re studying for your degree, but the real meat and potatoes of the paper should incorporate an aspect of linguistics in relation to your career path. Yunho understands how something like this can be difficult to tackle, so he assures you not to worry and that you both will work on perfecting it in no time.

“Mr. Jeong, do you mind if I text you instead? It’s more convenient for me than to email,” you end up asking him at the end of class on a Friday.

Yunho doesn’t mind this and he says so; he's put his phone number on the syllabus for situations like this. Moreover, he doesn’t think anything of it when he receives a text from you the morning of your first session telling him good morning and saying that you’re excited to finally get some guidance. You follow up by asking how he likes his coffee, and if he prefers muffins or donuts. Even after this indicator, he’s still surprised that you show up at his office right on time at 10 AM on Monday with two fresh cups of coffee and a couple of things from the campus bakery.

His office is fairly small, but not enough to feel uncomfortable. He’s decorated it to his liking though to make it feel a little more homely on the days he has to stay late for one reason or another. He watches you marvel at his space before you set down everything in your hands and relieve yourself of your backpack.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning ____, welcome in,” Yunho smiles. “You’re very punctual.”

“Of course, I meant what I said about being excited,” you tell him honestly, settling into the seat in front of his desk, “The right one is yours, by the way.”

Yunho timidly thanks you before sliding it closer to himself. He’s never had a student do something for him like this, then again he hasn’t been teaching that long to begin with. Regardless, he appreciates it and the gesture goes straight to his heart. He takes a sip to emphasize this.

“I’m all ready when you are,” you proclaim, clasping your hands together.

With that, he begins to look through his folders for your class number and finds the topic idea and outlines you’ve submitted previously. He doesn’t even have to look for your name specifically, you always tend to write his name and your class section in a particular way on the top of your work that is very appealing and oddly unique.

“You have really pretty handwriting,” Yunho murmurs out absentmindedly when he finds it. When he lifts his head to see your intrigued eyes gazing back at him, he clears his throat and adds, “Mine looks like chicken scratch so I’m always fascinated by others.”

“As long as it’s legible, that’s all that matters,” you hum with a smile, “And I can read yours just fine, so you’re fine.”

Yunho’s not sure why that mild compliment, something that should probably be insignificant, steals his words from him for a moment. Instead, he offers a hum in place of thanks while quickly taking another sip of his coffee. He glances at his notes before speaking again.

“Okay, so when I reviewed your work, it seems like you generally have a solid topic,” he begins, “It’s definitely something that can be a bit more concise, but it’s fine. The problem is that you’re trying to incorporate too much into the paper as a whole.”

You nod in understanding, so he takes a sip of coffee and continues.

“That’s good and bad, for a couple of reasons. It’s good that you’re being ambitious and trying to give lots of information. This shows me that you’re planning on doing a lot of research and you’re going to be very knowledgeable about your topic,” Yunho cocks his head, “If you set yourself up like this, though, your paper will end up being over twenty pages easily. And we both don’t want that, right?”

He gives you a knowing look, and you can’t help the candid snort you let out at his frankness, “Definitely not, oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“Precisely. So, let’s work on cutting some of these sections out and conjoining some of these bullet points in others. Sound good?” He holds out his hand with a grin as if to make it a deal, and you grant him a firm shake.

After a considerable amount of time figuring out which parts of your paper to chop without losing the vision, Yunho feels his limbs tighten from sitting too long. He’s been in this chair since 9 AM, so he asks, “Can we take a quick break? I need to stretch a bit.”

“Of course!”

When he stands to full height and stretches his arms, your eyes inconspicuously survey the way the edge of the desk lines up right with his pelvis. Perfect height for extracurricular activities… You wonder if he’s the type of guy to be open to something like that, fucking his lover in his office. Surely this thing is sturdy enough to withstand it, you muse. The thought of him bending you over the desk just to prove how sturdy it is makes you rub your thighs together. You decide to chug the rest of your now-cold coffee to get your brain back on track. Yunho collapses back into his office chair gently and lets you know he’s ready to resume. The rest of the time is spent setting up a list of some things you could tweak when you go home on your own and prepare for him to view in a couple of days.

On Wednesday, for your second meeting, you both convene at his office directly after your class with him in the afternoon. You smell especially good today, a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and something else he can’t put his tongue on… but it’s got Yunho’s head a bit foggy. Still, the meeting is engaging and brimming with useful help just as the last. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a brief moment to review a printout of what you’ve implemented into your outline from your last meeting discussions. It’s definitely already an improvement, but there are still a few things that could be tweaked in terms of sectioning. He grabs his favorite pen and lays your papers out in front of you, leaning forward to mark things you should be mindful of. A circle here, a quick jotted note there—his soothing voice explains each eagerly, and you can tell just how much he loves this subject by his enthusiasm. You reply to all of his criticism and suggestions with just as much enthusiasm. Yunho finds himself leaning in a little closer than might be suitable for the circumstances, but his brain is still ensnared by your perfume. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, truthfully, but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, you’re a little too enamored with watching his large hands grip his pen and flex while writing to notice he’s calling your name.

“____?” he calls for a second time, to which you finally meet his gaze while blinking bashfully. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I think I spaced out for a second,” you answer honestly. He is absolutely too close to you right now and the way you can see the details in his eyes is making your brain short-circuit. He finally sits back in his chair and chuckles warmly.

“We have been working for quite a while today, I’m sure it’s a lot of information. Maybe we should wrap up for the day and meet again next week? I’m a bit tied up on Friday,” he ponders. You can’t help the hint of disappointment that makes its way onto your face, and he notices. There’s this unusual feeling in his chest right now; why does he feel regret for his stupid schedule? He leans forward on his elbows and cocks his head, “You’re doing very well, you know that? We’ve made a lot of progress after only a couple of meetings. I’m very excited to see how this comes together at the end of the semester.”

“I’m very self-conscious about my writing, so I appreciate that, Mr. Jeong,” you confess with a sheepish smile.

“You have nothing to be stressed about, I love what I’ve seen so far,” he continues his praise, “And I’m very happy you’re in my class, ____.”

The smile he gives you after such a statement manifests dozens of butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but match it. These one-on-one sessions go on 2-3 days a week for about two more weeks, loosening him up to you. He successfully becomes much more casual and unfiltered in your presence before you decide to up the ante. The following Tuesday of the next week, you remain on campus fairly late after classes end for the day, seated on a bench near the parking lot you both share. It’s warm outside even with the sun gradually setting, and you spend the time mentally rehearsing exactly what you planned on saying when he arrives to leave for home. He should be here any minute now–

“_____?”

You spin around at the familiar voice calling out your name. It’s him, of course, coming from the staff meeting you found out was being held this evening. Finally , you think. He stops just short of where you’re perched on the bench.

“Oh, hello Mr. Jeong.”

“What are you doing out here so late?” He inquires quickly, and there’s a tinge of concern laced in his voice. However, he realizes that asking this might be out of the realm of things he should know, you’re a grown woman after all. So, he follows up with an excuse, “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” you mutter, glancing away from his gaze.

Yunho can’t deny, he’s a bit mesmerized by the way you look tonight. He’s never seen you with your make-up done up like this, or your hair styled so charmingly. When you glance back at him again with those long, fluttering lashes of yours, he feels the back of his neck turn hot.

“You can tell me anything, you already know,” he reminds you, “I won’t judge and I’m always available to listen.”

“Well… I have a reservation for dinner with someone at six… but it seems they stood me up,” you reveal while mindlessly fiddling with a frayed string on the skirt of your dress. Yunho glances down at his watch: it’s 5:48 PM. “They were supposed to pick me up a while ago. I was trying to hold out some hope, but… I’m just being stupid.”

Yunho furrows his brows; why would someone stand a girl like you up? You’re beautiful and exceptionally smart (despite any kind of trouble you may have had with your paper). You’re also one of the sweetest people he’s ever crossed paths with in life. Many of those paths having been crossed within the last month, of course. Still, he can’t fathom it.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ____,” he tells you truthfully. Then, he thinks about how your car isn’t here, and how the shuttle won’t be around until 6:30 PM. He’s slightly apprehensive before offering, “Do you want a ride home?”

You give him a winsome smile that pierces into his heart with an invisible arrow, “You don’t have to do that. I appreciate the offer though.”

“No, really, I don’t mind at all,” he says with more confidence. The idea of him being your knight in shining armor, buried deep in the back of his head, is shouting at him. That’s when you decide it’s time to take your shot, for better or worse.

“Well, in that case, would you like to accompany me to the restaurant instead?” you inquire, glancing up at him curiously. “I already paid for the spot, so I wouldn’t want the reservation to go to waste.”

Normally, you’d follow up a statement like that with a: “But it’s okay if not.”

Not tonight.

You didn’t want to give him an out to this proposal willingly. You can see the mild indecisiveness in his face anyway, all the way down to how Yunho’s hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase. You did get all dolled up for whoever you were supposed to be spending the evening with, and he’ll feel awfully bad letting you go back home to take it all off for no reason. It’s just a dinner, he tells himself.

“Sure,” Yunho finally says in an exhale, “Let me pull around my car.”

While he walks off into the parking lot towards his car, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop the dishonest smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. Was it all a bald-faced lie? Of course it was! But, sometimes it takes some white lies to get to what you want, and what you wanted was no longer that far out of reach if tonight was anything to go by.

When he finally pulls around to pick you up, you allow yourself to slip into the mode you usually go to on dates. It doesn’t hurt to pretend tonight, it’s like manifesting your reality. You thrum your fingers against your bare thighs, to no particular beat, while staring out of the car window at other passing cars during your brief trip on the highway.

“Is this a restaurant you’ve been to before? It looked really nice online,” Yunho eventually says into the silence, trying to make small talk. He had briefly skimmed the reviews while plugging the address in on his phone.

“I haven’t, actually,” you divulge, going further, “I’m a bit of a foodie, you know? I like to try new places occasionally.”

That conversation flows smoothly for the rest of the drive, and even smoother when you both are seated and eating dinner in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. It’s nice to see him in a more relaxed setting.

“Thank you for joining me tonight, Mr. Jeong.” You offer him some well-deserved gratitude as you wipe your mouth, signaling the end of your eating. “Makes things a lot less embarrassing tonight for sure.”

“No need to thank me, I enjoyed your company,” he smiles. He doesn’t even hesitate this time before adding, “That bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

The bubbly laugh and adorable smile you grant him the experience of witnessing enraptures him, the tips of his ears burning at the thought of how he wants to be able to produce that from you again and again. Yunho hasn’t been on a date in a while, so he’s sure this feeling is just because he’s attention-deprived. Still, it’s something he notes mentally. And, even though some might consider it inappropriate, you and your teacher both began having dinner occasionally, just like that. Platonically, of course.

“We can go over my questions for my paper topic here rather than in that cramped office of yours, you know?”

Surprisingly when you proposed this, he showed little resistance to the idea. Yunho enjoyed getting out of the house for the evenings he usually spent alone with a few beers and a Netflix series. He enjoyed having a pretty girl keep him company even more. He reminds himself every time he picks you up, though, that this is simply work and nothing more. Just some overtime—helping a student who enjoyed his class get better at the material. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.

But after the first few times of these “informational paper related” meetings, conversations involving anything to do with linguistics slowly molded into Yunho placing a nimble finger to his lips to say a silent shhh, followed by, “Let’s not talk about schoolwork tonight, okay?”

That moment, when you noticed that slight shift in Yunho’s energy, the atmosphere from there turned more informal. You become more conscious of those important invisible lines between student and teacher— or even more teacher and friend— that have begun to blur significantly. “Good evening Mr. Jeong,” became, “Le’me taste your food, Yunho?”

To which he never declines, naturally.

Tonight, on the 5th dinner, the climate between you both plows further into the downward spiral of informality, warm and fairly flirtatious. At least, that’s what you surmise by the way he keeps openly teasing you this evening. It’s all innocuous banter, but that doesn’t quell the adoration you hold for him in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough to make your thighs clench together underneath the table. You finally decide to shamelessly reciprocate, teasing him about the way his hair is going every which way tonight. You emphasize how the style is still very handsome despite him looking like he’s been through hell and back.

“I was having a pretty bad day today until I remembered where I was going tonight actually,” Yunho divulges, pushing the wrinkly sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He truly has been through hell and back today, between snooty older teachers and idiot freshmen both treating him like he’s a student just because of his age, “These kinds of nights with you always make my day, so it’s been saved.”

A playful smile tugs at your lips as you cock your head, “Is it the food or is it the company?”

He leans forward on his forearms with a prepossessing smile, one that makes your heart thump loudly in your ears.

“Both, of course,” he teases again, “I suppose the food is just a bonus, though.”

He takes notice of the way your cheeks are dusted in crimson as you shyly avert your eyes and locks that innocent image into a deep chamber of his mind along with all the others. He practically has a photo album saved mentally. It’s not too long until the food comes, and things become all about eating. A fair amount of time into your dinner, you decide to add a new element to your dynamic.

“Do you mind if I drink a little tonight?” you inquire quietly while your eyes skim the wine menu briefly. Not like you were going to care about his answer, but it was simply fun to ask. He chuckles.

“You’re an adult,” he points out instead. You smile to yourself before meeting his eyes from behind the menu. There’s something especially curious tonight behind those dark irises of his. The unfamiliar stare he gives you from behind his bangs is accompanied by a subtle smirk that makes your stomach tie into tight knots.

You turn away your eyes until you’re able to catch the attention of your waiter once more. In the process of requesting a glass of some Cabernet Sauvignon, you hesitate before saying the name of which brand because of the price tag for one glass, but most risks are pricey and tonight you felt like splurging for the reward in return: releasing your inhibitions. The waiter turns towards Yunho to confirm if he’d like to add anything before he leaves.

“Bring a bottle of that instead, please. We’ll share,” he requests alternatively. It takes all of your strength not to look at him like he’s crazy as the waiter nods and heads off to fetch it.

“It’s on me tonight,” Yunho beats you to the punch on declaring anything about his decisions.

“You don’t even know the price of it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he quips back with a chuckle, “Are you suggesting I can’t afford it?”

“Yunho…”

“Don’t even give me that, ____.”

The way he blithely says your first name with a different warmth now always causes your heart to swell in your chest. All formality is truly gone between you two. You both share matching smiles in place of any further words about the matter.

When the waiter returns briefly with a freshly opened bottle of wine and two glasses, you both offer him words of gratitude before he slips away once more. Yunho wastes no time pouring you both a proper amount, sighing contently when finished. You lift your glass towards him and grin once more, “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

Yunho surely got his money’s worth, because the bottle is gone between you both quickly, signaling the end of your dinner as well. You don’t feel the few glasses fully set in until Yunho is helping you out of the booth, your legs feeling akin to a newborn baby deer as you bashfully stumble into his arms. You suppose your food wasn’t as carb-heavy as usual tonight. You’re not drunk, but surely you’re not sober either. He doesn’t mind holding you steady on the way out of the restaurant, a guiding hand timidly pressed to the small of your back.

As much as you despise the thought of driving under the influence, it’s pouring an insane amount of rain upon exit of the restaurant and Yunho insists he’s fine enough to drive. The dilemma that arises is how your place is further than he has confidence in making it to in this storm while inebriated. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way he’s driving you home tonight.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he begins, and glances over at you, hoping you understand what he means because he’s not sober enough to come up with the words to ask you otherwise. The pouring water is making it hard for him to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t miss the feigning look of indecision in your eyes. He tries to ignore the way the rain has soaked through your dress enough to make it plaster your body. It accentuates every contour of your figure, from the rounds of your breasts down to your supple thighs. When the boom of thunder somewhere far off fills the silence after his proposal faster than you do, he panics slightly.

“I can get you an Uber if—”

“You already paid for an expensive bottle tonight, don’t waste more money on an Uber,” you grasp onto his arm fondly, sopping breasts squished into his bicep. Your lips curl into a soft smile at his attempt at chivalry though, “I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry though, okay? I’m cold.”

That statement is followed by a sharp shiver running down your back, and that’s enough for him to drag you along with him to his car with quick, but careful, steps.

Surprisingly, Yunho lives in a townhouse. You’re very thankful not to have to walk up the stairs of a condo. He thanks God there’s an empty parking space in front of his house, he hates when the tiny lot fills up before he gets home. You both prepare yourselves before rushing out of the car and to his front door.

Your hazy eyes train themselves on his pretty, slender fingers fiddling with the doorknob before he finally gets it open. Those same fingers grab your hand and pull you through his front door with him mindlessly. Another chill immediately runs down your spine at the cool AC blasting through his home, which he immediately runs off to turn down.

“Both bedrooms have bathrooms with showers,” Yunho sputters while quickly heading off to find you a towel and some spare clothes for which you could sleep in.

While you’re still peeling your drenched shoes and socks off, he settles on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants since it’s still a bit chilly in the house. You try not to track too much water through his home while you journey through his living room and meet him halfway.

“I’ll shower in the guest room,” you tell him, taking the items.

He runs an anxious hand through the wet hair sticking to his forehead, “I can also dry your clothes if you leave them on the bed.”

“Fuck, that’s great,” you sigh with a smile, stepping past him but cocking your head back to add, “Wait about five minutes before you come grab them, I should be in the shower by then.”

Just as you requested, Yunho comes into the room a little over five minutes later when he hears the shower running. His eyes confirm that the bathroom door is closed for your privacy before grabbing your wet clothes and retreating to his laundry room down the hall. He chucks them all in his dryer and runs it on medium heat and maximum dryness. While that’s running, he busies himself with running to his bedroom and speedrunning his shower to ensure he’s out before you. He’s a man on a mission, pulling on clothes and towel-drying his hair before rushing to the laundry room to get your clothes.

Yunho pulls your garments from the dryer one by one, making sure there’s nothing left wet. He stops when he pulls something out that catches his eyes. Your underwear. He’s quite enticed by them, even if they were pastel pink with turtles... Hot, he thinks sarcastically. Yunho eyes the crotch curiously and remembers that technically he didn’t wash your clothes at all. It’s been a while since he’s had a girl over his home and that, on top of the thought of even holding your underwear, is taking a small toll on him. He gives in and puts them to his nose, breathing in deeply.

Oh God … Even after they've been soaked in rain, your scent is still heavy on the fabric. He groans, why did you have to smell so fucking good? He remembers that you are quite literally right down the hall while he's here sniffing your underwear like a pervert. It’s your fault, right? Yeah, it’s your fault for trusting him with such a sensitive piece of clothing by himself. It’s your fault for smelling so good and looking so pretty and—

He gives up on rationalizing it and presses the clothing fully onto his face again, inhaling heavily and feeling himself grow harder and harder by the second. His arousal grows worse and worse, precum dampening his underwear with every deep inhale and fluttering thought of what you probably taste like… He finds his hand mindlessly palming himself, and luckily his groans are muffled by the underwear bunched up in his face. That’s when he hears the water shut off.

Yunho whispers a handful of obscenities as he hurries to the room to place your dried clothes on the bed while you’re still in the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. He’s long gone by the time you step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Normally, you’d stay in the shower until your fingertips are pruney, but you suppose being a good guest includes not using up all of his hot water. There were more pressing things to attend to anyway, like the tall attractive man patiently awaiting your presence outside of this room. So, when you tug on your now dry panties and his previously provided clothing, you quickly make your way out of the room and to the living room. You’re not exactly sure what you expected upon seeing him, but he’s indeed still exceptionally handsome freshly out of the shower. Those same curious eyes gaze at you behind his shaggy bangs, still in the process of drying. Clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his biceps and strong thighs are fully on display as he lounges on the couch. The way his long legs are man-spread now that he’s comfortable in his own abode makes you swallow a little harder than usual. Still, you meander over and sit on the other side of the couch, not too far away.

“Your place is very nice,” you state absentmindedly, glancing around at the walls of his home. “Very fit for a bachelor.”

Without you noticing, Yunho’s eyes skillfully study the way you’re so casually in his clothing. You’re too busy glancing around at unnecessary things anyway; he wonders if you’re rambling about his decor because you’re nervous. He’s nervous too, but not for the right reasons. Regardless, seeing you in his clothing is taking an additional toll on his mental health. How did you both end up in this situation together… This is wrong, he thinks. He shakes his head to try and clear those corrupted thoughts from his mind. It isn’t until you realize he hasn’t replied to anything in a couple of minutes of you jabbering that you finally peer over at him. His eyes are trained on the short distance between the both of you, mindlessly chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“You okay?” you ask, finally catching his attention.

He nods hastily, “Definitely. Sorry, it’s been a long day. Mind is on empty.”

“You’re fine, no worries.”

It’s uncomfortably quiet for a moment as you both exchange stares. You’re seconds away from breaking the silence before Yunho steals the chance.

“I’m sure you’re tired, so we can head to bed,” he suddenly exhales, hands clasping his thighs, “The guest room is all yours for as long as you need it.”

You take the chance and lean forward toward him on your palms at this statement, slightly sinking into the couch while you gaze at him, “Is that what you really want, Yunho?”

There’s now an even longer moment of silence where you both stare each other in the eyes again and the room is unbearably quiet. Yunho finally breaks it after his Adam’s apple bobs uneasily.

“Of course,” he awkwardly chuckles with furrowed brows, “What do you mean, ____?”

Your heart deflates. For a second, you wonder if maybe you’ve been reading his body language incorrectly the entire night. There’s a flare of embarrassment that ignites on your cheeks as you immediately retract yourself.

“I suck at making jokes,” you match his chuckle nervously, “Don’t mind me.” He cocks his head at you curiously and you stand to your feet before he can catch the way your face is lighting on fire with every passing second. You avoid looking at him as you begin striding back to the guest room, “Goodnight Yunho, see you in the morning!”

Yunho is left alone to his own devices once he hears the sound of the door to the guest room closing down the hall. Sitting alone on a large bed in your teacher’s home feels surreal, and all too disappointing the same. You press your palms to your eyes to try and settle the embarrassment that keeps washing over you every time you think back to your impromptu attempt at making an advance toward him. God this fucking sucks…

After a few minutes of setting up some alarms on your phone for the next morning, you decide you need to go get some water and wash away tonight from your mind forever. Yunho Jeong doesn’t like you more than a friend, it’s time to accept your fate and that you failed at attracting him. To be fair, it all was a shot in the dark to begin with. You try not to be too hard on yourself and hope that he’s already in his room by now.

But, if that’s all truly the case, then why is Yunho standing in front of the guest room door when you open it? His arm is positioned as if he was about to knock. Yunho had been standing there for quite some minutes, debating his next actions in his head, overthinking as usual. Though, could it be considered overthinking if the consequences of his actions could lead to delinquency? Had you not opened the door to go get water, albeit unknowingly, he probably would’ve psyched himself out.

“Oh– Did you need something?” you mumble and look up inquisitively at him. His mouth lingers open for a few seconds before he learns how to speak again.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the hint of confusion gracing your face as you step aside and allow him inside the room, “Is everything okay?”

When you close the door and face him, he looks distraught. Everything was indeed not okay.

“Are you still drunk?” He asks first.

“I don’t really think I was ever drunk,” you tell him, “But no.”

“Neither am I.”

At first, it doesn’t click about why he’s confirming this. You also don’t notice the way he gradually takes tentative steps forward—or the way you’re equally taking steps back—until your back hits the bedroom door. He’s so close that you can smell the minty mouthwash still fresh on his breath unfurling over your face. Still, he looks hesitant about his actions.

“I’m sorry, I was just… nervous before,” he swallows. He watches your face shift from confusion to realization; he’s referring to his response when you shot your shot. You relax against the door.

“About?” Is all you can ask in a soft voice, left hand daringly reaching up and cupping his cheek.

“About drunken words,” he continues, his voice just above a whisper. You can see the stutter of his heart against his chest. “And my feelings.”

Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, “What are you feeling, Yunho?”

In a moment of fleeting courage, he gently grabs your right hand and leads it to settle below his groin, pressing it against him a bit for good measure.

“What does it feel like I’m feeling to you?”

Your cheeks heat up at the feeling of him in your palm; you didn’t expect him to be so forward about it out of nowhere. The overall anticipation of the situation is killing you, even though everything feels like it’s moving too slowly and too fast all at the same time. All of your effort was leading to this point and yet, somehow, you still don’t feel nearly as prepared as you thought you were to finally fuck him, to finally fuck your teacher. That doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around nothing at all at his words alone, because this is definitely what you’ve wanted so badly for weeks.

You try to swallow even though your throat feels parched, mindlessly whispering, “Oh my God…”

Then, you give him an experimental squeeze which has his eyelids fluttering closed, and a deep grunt leaving his flared nostrils.

“Fuck …” he groans. It’s too natural, the way you subconsciously run your hand up and down the bulge, feeling it harden even further. Yunho is at his wit's end. “I need you to tell me exactly what you want ____,” he reminds you.

You get it, he’s covering his bases because of his relation to you outside of this bedroom. Consent is sexy regardless, so you grant that to him.

“I really, really want you to fuck me Yunho,” you purr as your hands creep up his chest until you can wrap your arms around his neck, “And I think you want the same, right?”

Yunho’s hands sneak under the t-shirt on you and he massages the flesh of your sides, fingertips ghosting up your skin until they reach your breasts. His thumbs brushing against your hard nipples involuntarily make you whimper his name, and this is all Yunho needs to hear to proceed without such caution. The moment he leans down and smashes his lips to yours, time stops.

It’s nasty, the way your tongues are dragging against each other, spreading trails of saliva everywhere.

It’s nasty, the way he can’t help but drag that same tongue down your neck, sullying your freshly washed skin with spit.

It’s even nastier, the way he moans out your name, shamelessly grinding his clothed boner into your crotch, searching for friction because he’s touch-starved.

“A-Ah—wait! Bed, please,” you let out a broken moan at the way he sucks and bites on your neck. Yunho grunts in agreement, spinning you around and forcefully guiding you back until you both reach the bed. You can’t help but giggle when you fall back on the mattress— he’s so hungry for it, for you. And you’re more than ready to give it to him.

“Can I take them off?” He still asks like a gentleman, though his fingers are impatiently already tugging at the bottom of your sweatpants. You nod with fervor.

The moment he tosses them away, the situation begins to feel a bit more real to you both. Maybe it’s because you’re sopping wet and semi-exposed, and he’s not, so you become bashful and self-conscious.

“Take yours off too?”

Yunho doesn’t hesitate to oblige you. He peels off his shirt and shoves his shorts away easily. There’s a brief second where he hesitates before also pulling his boxer briefs down and finally fully exposing himself to you in all his nude glory. Yunho hasn’t slept with a woman in a while, but he’s never had complaints about anything, and especially not his size. He can tell by how your eyes are drinking him in, that you won’t have any either.

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you murmur, eyes hazy as they rake over him from his broad chest to his defined abs, then his defined hips to his heavy cock. There’s a cute hue of pink dusting his cheeks at the compliment.

Yunho doesn’t give you a chance to stare at him very much longer before he’s finally ridding you of your shirt, lips meeting yours again the moment it’s tossed. It’s not long before that naughty mouth of his indulges in your breasts, licking and sucking on your hardened nipples like they’re the only thing that will keep him grounded to earth. You’re a moaning mess underneath of him, hands carding through his tresses and lips struggling with telling him how much you love his mouth. He could suck on your beautiful breasts all day but there are more pressing matters at this time.

His eyes never leave yours as he kisses all the way down the expanse of your stomach to the waistband of your panties. Only then does he close his eyes to bury his face in your clothed cunt and take a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're about to burst. He’s so content that now he can do it knowing the real thing is right underneath. It gets him hard all the same as the laundry room. You watch him grind himself into the mattress for some relief just at the smell of you.

“I’ve never done something like this before,” he divulges, pressing heated kisses into the skin of your sensitive thighs.

“What, eating pussy?” you tease to ease his nerves. He stares pointedly at you from behind your mound.

“You know what I mean.”

Your hand reaches down to find a comforting purchase in his hair, “Neither have I, Yu.”

Yunho can feel himself falling apart faster and faster, and the nickname is not helping him keep it together at all. He hooks his fingers in your panties and gently tugs them down your legs, joining the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor. Your cheeks tingle with heat when his hands spread your legs wider, eyes seemingly mesmerized.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he whispers, marveling at the way your sticky lips tremble when you clench around nothing.

He solves that by pushing in two of those pretty fingers of his, all the way down to the last knuckles. The desperate moan that flies from your lips sends him into a depraved headspace. He immediately latches his mouth onto your throbbing clit and sets to work, thrusting into your squelching squeezing heat and sucking to his heart’s content. Yunho loves eating pussy, truly. There’s something truly cathartic to him about holding a woman’s legs down while she twitches and grinds against his face as he’s slurping up every bit of essence that seeps from her greedy hole. He even removes his fingers and opts for lapping at your heat like a starved man instead. Up and down, left and right… His tongue leaves no inch of your heat untouched. He loves the feeling of your slick coating his face when he pushes his tongue as deep as he can into your hole. He feels your hands yank him by his hair before he can even get to the fun part. He gazes up at you in confusion, mouth messy and eyes indubitably pussy-drunk.

“Please,” you beg, chest heaving, “I want you inside.”

Yunho licks his lips clean before crawling back up your body to fulfill your request. You’re right honestly, there’s only so much grinding he can do into the mattress to ease the ache of his hard cock. He leans over to grab a condom from the nightstand but you pull him back over, mumbling about how you’re on the pill and that it’s fine.

He’s so big, the way he’s engulfing your whole body with you caged between his arms like this. Gazing into your eyes, he drags the blunt tip of his cock back and forth through your dripping folds, occasionally pressing it hard against that clit that he’s taken such a liking to sucking on.

“Hey,” you mumble against his lips, catching the full attention of his blown-out irises. “I can tell you’re nervous. Just relax and lose control, for me. Okay?”

Yunho’s last rope of restraint snaps.

The moment you feel his tip finally breach your entrance, you squeeze your eyes shut and mewl at the feeling of his thick cock sliding into its rightful place. Yes, obviously he’s meant just for your cunt, because you fit like a glove when you're swallowing him in so badly the deeper he pushes. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, despite your squirming and twitching underneath him at the feeling of being so full.

“I’m about to move,” he pants, adjusting to the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his cock, “Holy fuck.”

When you nod, he finally lets go of his inhibitions. He begins to roll his hips at a nice steady pace, large hands clasped to the backs of your thighs as he pushes them towards your torso. His mouth hangs open in ecstasy and his eyelids lower lazily at the way your walls suck in his cock so tightly and squeeze it like they’re begging to be filled to the brim. You reach up and latch onto his arms to ground yourself, head dizzy and overwhelmed at the feeling of him starting to snap his hips just a little faster now that you’re stretched out a bit more to accommodate him.

“Yunho, fuck, you’re so big,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. Yunho grinds his pelvis into you at this remark, rubbing against your clit with his happy trail.

“And you’re taking me so well,” Yunho praises with a lopsided grin, “Feels good?”

“So fucking good.”

Yunho pushes your legs back even further as he leans in to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You’re so pretty with those glassy eyes and those flushed cheeks of yours, but there’s something about that that quivering bottom lip that makes him want to suck every sound from you himself. He finds himself bucking faster and faster, unable to maintain any kind of self-control.

He breaks away to catch his breath, eyes lazy as he groans, “Let me hear you. This is what you wanted, yeah?”

“Mhm, yes, yes,” you whine desperately, “I wanted it so bad. Wanted you so bad.”

You grant him a flurry of shameless bitten-off moans, egging him on further and further. Yunho buries his face into the crook of your neck, making your skin damp between his own warm gasps and grunting obscenities. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this aroused before; yes, he’s so painfully hard at the fleeting thoughts of how inappropriate everything is. He’s your linguistics teacher—he’s not supposed to be teaching your cunt how to mold to the shape of his cock. He’s not supposed to be massaging your clit and babbling nonsense about how he’s going to lick your pussy clean when you cum. How can he say that to a student? However, his eyes roll back at that thought.

“I’m going crazy,” he groans into your skin, mindlessly speaking his thoughts aloud. “I’m so close.”

You’d say the same if you could, but your mouth can’t form proper words with the way his long fingers are rubbing quick messy circles around your clit. Instead, you put your mouth on the shell of his ear and say his name in a filthy mewl. Your legs tense up and your toes curl; Yunho can feel you cum around his cock a beat later, encouraging your convulsing and whimpering. He can only manage to give you a few more rough thrusts before he pulls himself out and allows himself to empty his balls in quick spurts all over your torso, a mix of “fuck” and “____” leaking from his mouth at how filthy the action is, dirtying you like this. He’s a man of his word though, quickly hefting himself back down to your sopping cunt and diving face first to taste everything he missed tasting earlier. The groan of pure bliss he lets out into your sensitive cunt has you squirming away, much to his dismay. But he finds himself chuckling anyway—he got to taste your cum and, even if it was for only a few seconds, he’s satisfied.

Cleaning up and cuddling after is far from awkward, Yunho feels comfortable with his arms wrapped around you and head on your chest. You find yourself mindlessly scratching his scalp and playing with his messy hair, while his large hands massage the muscles of your thighs. It’s immensely intimate, and this scares Yunho deep inside. Unbeknownst to his stress, you’re settling into a mental state of bliss; you can’t wait to see where this night leads you after, even if it might be a little awkward back in the classroom at first. He tries not to dwell on such thoughts for too long, eventually falling asleep under your touch.

Yunho wakes up to a cold, empty bed. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, he catches some time he can’t be bothered with reading fully, nine-something-in-the-morning. He groans internally at the bittersweet arrival of the morning. After a few seconds of just lying there, bleary eyes staring at anything and everything, he remembers that he’s not supposed to be alone right now. The grimace that crosses his face is heavy.

He lugs himself up and out of bed to find his phone, which he’s left God knows where. After a bit of searching, he’s even more upset to see a lack of text from you about leaving. Leaving with no word after sex… Yunho has been in this position before and it makes him feel like shit. It feels even worse considering that this is not just some random woman, you are his student. He’s a chronic overthinker, he knows he is. Yet, he can’t stop his mind from filling with a plethora of miserable thoughts about what this could mean.

Did you simply want to fuck him and nothing more?

Did you regret sleeping with him and want to leave without confrontation?

Did you sleep with him to then leave and tell someone, maybe to humiliate him?

All of these thoughts scream at Yunho until he finds himself clenching his jaw, and tears are pricking at his eyes. He hates this feeling every time it happens; it makes him feel like he’s not good enough. In a moment of brief irrationality, Yunho debates if he should outright block you.

He’s impulsive like that when he’s worked up. However, after a few minutes of begging himself to calm down, he tossed his phone away and went on to make a cup of tea to ease his agitation. He knew this was a mistake from the start and he still did it.

He doesn’t get a text from you until after 11 AM.

[Y/N: sorry for leaving without saying anything!! I forgot I had prior commitments this morning, didn’t wanna text you until I was sure you’d be up. hope you slept well :)]

Yunho doesn’t know what to think. Prior commitments? Surely this would’ve been something you would’ve mentioned before he drove you to his home last night. It is Saturday though, so it’s plausible. He opens the message and leaves you on read instead.

Earlier this morning, you were certain Yunho must have completely tired himself out after sleeping with you because he failed to wake up when your alarms went off. You make a mental note that it only takes him cumming once to make him go comatose (and maybe a little wine to boot). You had left his place with no ill intentions, and your message was truthful. So, when you get left on read by him, it ignites a small flame of insecurity in you. You’re never one to double-text a man, but considering this is something you put a great amount of effort into getting to happen, you put your pride aside when you don't get a reply by the next day.

[Y/N: Wondering if you want to try a new restaurant after work tomorrow… Let me know if you’re interested!]

To your surprise, Yunho replies that he’s too busy. He doesn’t offer to reschedule for a better day, which isn’t like him. Instead of taking it too seriously and replying something disheartened, you let him know that you understand and to let you know if anything changes. He opens this message and doesn’t reply. You try again on Tuesday. This time, your inquiry is more succinct, no fluff.

[Y/N: Are you free Wednesday?]

He answers this similarly to the last attempt, maintaining that he’s too busy to see you that day as well. However, this text is more curt than the last. When you cave in and ask him which days he’s not busy, he leaves you on read, again.

[Y/N: Do you have a free moment to talk then?]

Yunho doesn’t open this text altogether, and the disgruntlement this stirs within you lingers in your system all day, even when you decide to go out with your friends to clear your mind.

Throughout his class with you the following day, you endure Yunho’s eyes practically boring into you at various points in time. It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched, nagging at your scalp while you keep your head downcast towards your laptop. Thoroughly, as distractions do, it keeps you on edge and unfocused throughout the whole lecture. It doesn’t help that Yeosang is out today, so you feel alone even surrounded by so many people.

At some point, during a quiet moment of everyone completing an individual assignment he had handed out, you glance up over the screen of your laptop and catch his attentive eyes gazing back. He gnaws on the nail of this thumb as he usually does when his brain is on overdrive, his eyes calmly lingering on the fixation of all his thoughts. Eventually, he turns them away and decides to focus on something else irrelevant involving his phone. Anything to take you off of his mind.

You quietly snicker to yourself and roll your eyes. So, he can play on his phone just fine during class but can’t find the time to text you and talk? Men will be men… If he just wanted to sleep with you and leave at that, he could at least tell you, you brood. You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything for the last half hour of class. You don’t bother sticking around after and instead, preoccupy yourself by striking up a conversation with another acquaintance on the way out of the doors. Yunho notices the way you act like he doesn’t exist while leaving and it makes him a bit bitter. He knows it’s irrational, but you’ve really done a number on him, so he can’t help it.

On Thursday, you’re sick of the games altogether. Being the super sleuth you were at the beginning of this mess, you knew when Yunho typically went to his office in between classes to get grading done that he couldn’t do throughout the day. So, when you finish your mathematics class, you pack up your things quickly, knowing he should be roaming this same hall in very little time. There’s one thing–or person, you suppose–that you didn’t account for in this plan.

“You’re terrible at covering hickeys, you know,” Hongjoong chides, eyeing your messy job at applying makeup to your neck.

To be fair to yourself, you hadn’t realized Yunho had sucked one onto your skin the night you both slept together, and the dark blotch was too annoying to deal with every single day. You bruise too easily and they don’t go away fast enough. Admittedly, you had slacked off on the cover-up today. You chalk it up to secretly being in Fight Club, which you remind him, the number rule is to never talk about Fight Club! That, of course, was not a good enough reason for Hongjoong, and you regret that you didn’t acknowledge beforehand he would surely grill you endlessly about your recreational pastimes.

“Okay seriously, I just wore my choker too tight yesterday and it pinched my neck, that's all,” you explain as he quickly follows you out of the classroom. He squints at you with skeptical eyes, as if he is not believing any of the piping hot shit you’re serving him on a platter. Phase two was to gaze at him with winsome eyes, ones he was definitely familiar with. They always worked on Yeosang, but Hongjoong was harder to subdue.

“Don’t.”

“Joong, I’m telling you, there’s nothing more for me to answer here.”

You employ a small pout to boot.

“And you think I believe that?”

“I think you should believe it.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. Meanwhile, your eyes inconspicuously search for Yunho in the sea of classmates flooding the hallway; there was a very important conversation you had hyped yourself up to finally have with him. One that surely would not be done if it didn’t get done today, at this very moment. That would obviously fail to happen if Hongjoong kept pestering you with his concerns. Suddenly, your eyes spot the tail end of Yunho’s styled hair turning the corner and leaving the hallway. Goddammit!

“Joong, I really gotta go,” you say frantically and secure your backpack onto your back. His lips open slightly in puzzlement, but there’s nothing he can say before you’re already shoving people out of the way to make it through the hallway to follow him to his office.

You take the stairs while he takes the elevator to waste some time; hopefully, he'll be set up and comfortable by the time you get to his floor. When you make it to his office, he’s indeed already seated and filtering through sheets of work from students during the last class. You don’t bother knocking before entering; he hadn’t afforded you the comfort of manners lately, so neither would you.

Honestly, had anyone else burst into his office so unannounced like this, he might've cussed them out by accident. But before he can get any words out, you can see the physical shift from annoyance to puzzlement wash over his face as he realizes it’s you, then, genuine dread graces his face before downcasting his gaze.

“I need to talk to you,” you insist, “Now.”

He’s having a hard time even meeting your eyes when you’re speaking and it’s pissing you off tremendously.

“I’m a bit busy right now,” he sighs, now in the process of looking through his desk for a pen that works. “It’ll have to wait for another time.”

You ignore him entirely, “Why are you avoiding me, Yunho?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Yunho quickly objects. “I’m just–”

“You’ve blown me off twice this week already,” you counter. “Now I can’t even come see you at your office?”

Yunho puts his head in his hands and tries to collect his thoughts. He’s too sensitive to handle this conversation with no preparation beforehand. Then again, the longer he keeps isolating, the longer he’s going to keep feeling like shit. He can hear the undertone of hurt in your words, but he’s only doing what’s best for you, right?

“The least you could do is give me a real reason,” you continue. He finally lifts his head and meets your frustrated eyes. “Just give me a real reason to and I’ll fuck-off all you want.”

“____, that night was a mistake,” he tells you simply. The look in his eyes says otherwise. You know he’s lying but it still feels like a punch in the gut.

“A mistake?”

“It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, and it was inappropriate of me to do that with you. Let’s just forget about it and move on, please.”

You furrow your brows in agitation, “You really feel that way?”

“I do,” he murmurs, eyes falling back to the papers in front of him. He visibly hesitates for the briefest moment before picking up his pen and resuming his grading. This feeling of rejection hurts a little more than usual. Why do you feel like a failure? Why do you feel like a fuck-up? Maybe it’s because of the effort you put into this man, unlike many others. You stand there in his doorway uncomfortably silent until you find it in yourself to offer some final words.

“We’re both adults, Yunho,” you remind him in a voice that airs on the more serious side of yourself. He’s never heard you sound such a way with him. “No one has to know what two grown adults do in their free time. And you don’t owe anyone any explanations.”

When he doesn’t look up from his paperwork anymore, you finally leave and gently close the door behind you.

Nearly a week after that day, your phone begins to ring while you’re out at a bar with friends. Yeosang’s nosy eyes catch the name on the screen and he gives you an incredulous look. His name still has a heart beside it and you haven’t updated him on anything regarding Yunho since telling him that you both were texting each other outside of class.

“What is he doing calling you at 9 PM, miss?” he teases as you move your phone to your lap, “Booty call?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?” you snort.

“Boo, why can I never know anything–”

“Oh but when I mention the obvious hickey, I’m imagining things, huh?” Hongjoong interjects with narrowed eyes when he overhears you both bickering. “Who’s the mystery man?”

“It’s nobody,” both you and Yeosang say in unison.

Hongjoong quirks a brow at how you both are gazing at him with matching smiles, suspiciously. He lets it go quickly and instead butts into Mingi and his girlfriend’s conversation. By the time you glance at your phone, Yunho’s call has already gone fully unanswered. Subsequently, you chose not to return the call later when you’re done and home. You didn’t necessarily want to talk to someone who called such an intimate moment with you a mistake. And especially not intoxicated. If he wants to talk to me that bad, he’d just send whatever he needs to say in a text, you tell yourself. But, of course, those texts don’t come. Yunho doesn’t know how to express himself like that over message. However, after getting wasted, it takes everything within you not to text him first in a fit of overwhelming horniness. What’s the worst that could come from letting him know that you’re craving the feeling of that thick cock of his splitting you open, or how maybe this time you should test out your gag reflex? Yeosang knows you well enough to take your phone from you after a certain amount of shots, so you don’t get that opportunity anyway. God bless your best friend.

A couple of days later, you still find yourself unable to let things go. How can you when Yeosang brings it up any time you speak alone? For someone so sure you were making a huge mistake, he sure is desperate for the tea. It’s like he’s your frontline cheerleader (which he usually is anyway). If he found out you both fucked, surely he’d lose his mind.

“You can’t keep me in the dark, I’m still dying to know how much progress you’re making with Mr. Jeong after seeing him call you that night,” Yeosang pleads, “Have you both met up in private off of campus yet?”

“That’s classified info,” you state and try to stifle your subsequent laughter when you hear him grumble. You still hadn’t found it within yourself yet to tell him that your plan had failed. “You’ll know by if I pass this class or not.”

“Just a little hint, please? I’m on my knees.”

“Progress is being made, Yeo,” you disclose in a sing-song voice. Surely a little white lie wouldn’t hurt in the meantime, “He’s a very good conversationalist, you know. With that deep voice of his, and especially late at night.”

Yeosang groans in annoyance, “You’re killing me ____, I’m too curious! You didn’t entertain a single man at the bar, something juicy has to be happening.”

You debate on at least telling him about the extra study sessions you and Yunho had been having before things were soiled, the innocent stuff that he could gush and tease you over. But, just as you’re about to say something, he cuts you off unknowingly.

“Shit, Mingi’s calling. Le’me call you back,” Yeosang groans, and you offer a hum of affirmation before the line clicks. Maybe it’s for the best that you had been interrupted before you put your foot in your mouth.

You quickly fill the silence by shuffling one of your ‘Doing Chores’ playlists and focusing your mind on cooking the remainder of your dinner. A couple of minutes later, the chime of your phone interrupts your music. You continue to focus on stirring while your other hand carelessly presses the answer option.

“That was quick,” you giggle.

“Felt like forever to me,” a familiar, deep voice replies. You freeze and glance over to see Yunho’s name on the screen of your phone in place of your best friend’s.

Fuck.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” you reply instead. “I thought you were someone else, my apologies.”

“Have we really already reverted back to the formalities?” he sighs and his voice already sounds a bit defeated.

You roll your eyes, “I’m a bit preoccupied right now. So unless you’d like to discuss my class work, I don’t have time to entertain this.”

“Just give me five minutes, please.”

You turn off the stove and snatch up your phone before ambling to your bedroom.

“Spit it out already, Yunho.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you ____,” he admits.

Hearing you say his first name makes him feel a smidge better, even if it’s in irritation. He wonders if you can feel his heart pounding through the speaker or the way it makes his fingers tremble while holding the phone. “I was just scared, you have to understand that at least. I told you I’ve never done that kind of thing before, ever.”

“Thought it was a mistake–”

“I only said that because you left without saying anything. I thought you regretted it!”

“I literally told you why I did that, you decided to not believe me apparently,” you counter, voice laced with the slightest bit of frustration as you sit on your bed. Then you add in a mutter, “Instead of talking with me like an adult.”

There’s a long moment of silence. He doesn’t hang up though, so neither do you. You stare at the timer under his name, continuing to count up seconds full of emptiness.

“I’m really sorry,” Yunho finally sighs. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. I was just scared.” You remain silent and it eats at his confidence slowly. He’s desperate and doesn’t really care if it shows at this point, so he goes on to fill the silence again, “You were right, we’re adults. It’s not anybody else’s business what happens outside of campus. That’s why I’m trying to fix things now. Please.”

You sigh heavily while stroking your temples. This conversation is not something you had prepared yourself for, but the desperation in his voice is hitting you right in the gut. You know he’s being sincere, but it’s just hard to make yourself that vulnerable as well. You both know the truth is that it’s not okay, none of this is. It’s all extremely inappropriate. What you are doing with each other could ruin both of your lives if found out before you graduate. It’s risky; and yet, you still find yourself saying a sentence you definitely shouldn’t be saying:

“Listen, I genuinely like you Yunho.”

“And I genuinely like you too, ____. So let me take you on a proper date,” he says a little too hastily, but he can’t stop himself from the excitement that bubbles inside of him, stemming solely from you even reciprocating his feelings, “And not just a dinner like usual, I mean something thoughtful.”

“Something thoughtful…” you repeat after him, accidentally punctuating it with a giggle at how foolish the whole situation seems. “Are you serious about that?”

“Absolutely,” he assures you, “Only if you want to, of course.”

You sigh and smile to yourself at how heartfelt he sounds. Sure, there are millions of ways this could go extremely wrong, but you decide to ignore those thoughts and take him up on his offer. If you were one to listen to the better part of your judgment, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation in the first place. It would be a shame to let that work you put in go to waste just because of a little hiccup in the road. Besides, Yunho was surely the best fuck you had received in quite some time. There was plenty of time through the rest of the semester to explore that side of him again as well. The conversation ends with you both agreeing to meet with each other in a few days, Yunho promising to make it enjoyable even though it’ll be discrete.

♡ taglist for those who replied to my interest post: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr

2K notes · View notes

quillium · 2 years

Text

Dick’s fingers stutter sometimes.

Jason doesn’t think Dick really notices. The stutter, stutter, stutter of his fingers as they tap against wood, his leg, anything they touch.

Sometimes things slip more easy through Dick’s fingers than they should. If he’s in a bad way, his whole hand shakes.

He’s never seen anyone with a hand tremor that bad. Jason doesn’t comment on it, though. It’s rude. And besides, Dick’s hands never stutter where it matters, so--so maybe it doesn’t matter so bad.

Then Jason comes back from the dead and he’s mad at Bruce and he’s mad at the whole lot of them but some days he can practically hear the Joker laugh as his crowbar cracks against Jason’s fingers and his fingers stutter, too.

Then Jason reconciles, just a little, with Bruce and the others and he’s in the kitchen making hot cocoa for Dick and his fingers stutter, stutter, stutter around the handle of the mug.

It drops with a sharp crack but luckily doesn’t break. A bit of whipped cream falls to the floor but it’s mostly fine.

Jason puts down the other mug and uses both hands to reach down.

“Best wait a bit,” Dick says, watching. “For the tremors to go. Sometimes they stay a bit.”

“I know,” Jason snaps, but listens (because he’s not stupid) and waits, hands shaky by his side.

Dick’s fingers tap against the counter top. Stutter, stutter, stutter.

“Were you born with it?” Jason asks, looking at the floor.

Dick laughs softly. “I was an aerialist, Jaybird. My parents never would’ve let me flown with hands like these. Nobody sane would.”

“Batman does, and he’s the most paranoid freak of the lot.”

“My grapples are special, Jay. You must have noticed.”

Jason did notice. They wrap twice around Dick’s wrists and have a bit for him to slot his fingers in.

“I thought that was just--you and your fancy gadgets.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, a bit wry, “Fancy gadgets to make sure I don’t kill myself.”

Jason chews on his lips and then says, “You’ve had it as long as I knew you, though. It got really bad every time you fought with Bruce.”

Dick’s eyes are cool as an untouched lake. “You know why I came to Blud, Jason?”

“Got in a fight with Bruce, didn’t you? A big one.”

“You know why we fought?”

Jason hesitates, “I... something about Robin?”

“He took Robin away from me,” Dick says flatly.

Jason sucks in a breath. “I didn’t know that.”

“What, you thought Tim started the tradition? None of the Robins willingly passed on the mantle. Bruce wasn’t exactly in the wrong, though--not that I thought so at the time.”

“What happened?”

“Dent hospitalized me.” Dick raises his voice, a high pitched mockery, “Just remember, it wasn’t me, kid. It was the bat. Then he hit me with a baseball bat. 4/10, okay idea but lame execution. Whatever. Got my fingers. I freaked, and you know that however much we freak, Bruce freaks a thousand times worse. He thought I was gonna die, so he fired me. Scared of losing his kid.”

Jason thinks there might be some old bitterness in his chest. What, so you weren’t expendable, but I was? He took Robin from you because he wanted you to live, but immediately gave Robin to me and let me die?

Out loud, Jason says, “Bruce doesn’t like you facing Two-Face.”

“Bruce always has reasons for the things he does. Even if we might think he’s irrational. I’m the oldest, after all--it’s better I face Dent than Tim, Dami, or even you.”

“I’m not a kid, Dick.”

“You’re still my kid brother, aren’t you?” Dick’s fingers stutter, stutter, stutter against Jason’s counter top.

Jason watches Dick’s fingers quietly, and then looks away.

#dc #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #i really do want to make this into a 10k longfic but rn i'm just going with the flow #anyways enjoy <3

3K notes · View notes

dawngel · 4 months

Text

Crazy Tokyo Debunker theory ahead, but if I don't put it out there before the next chapter drops I'll explode:

What if

Hear me out

What if the Like Doves anomalies aren't actually a sign that someone likes another person? What if instead they are being used by someone?

Listen-

We are told Like Doves are a sign of someone liking someone else by Kaito in chapter 1 and from Luca's reaction we can gather that Like Doves aren't common in the UK.

This alone just tells us that this type of anomaly might be native to Japan, or, at the very least, that they don't exist in the UK.

However.

I believe Luca has never seen them before because they are not "natural" anomalies.

Why do I believe that?

Well-

We need to talk about Taiga's reaction to Like Doves first.

He was SO UPSET when he saw one in Romeo's room. At first I thought that he was simply Not Happy™ that he might be catching feelings for MC (if we're to believe that Like Doves appear when one of the cast starts developing a crush on MC, like it looks to be the case from previous chapters), but I'm not sure that's the only thing, or perhaps it might not even be it at all tbh.

His behaviour and mood completely change when he spots it. It's ridiculous. He was incredibly chill and comfortable talking with Romeo and suddenly his sprites all look upset and/or nervous.

He has so many "quiet" dialogues, just staring and thinking. I counted like 5 on this conversation alone-

His voice. Shakes.

His confident persona falters-! Like--

Still, that is not conclusive evidence. Here I still thought that he was simply not thrilled at the idea of liking MC but that was all. He might not be used to liking someone and might be uncomfortable, or perhaps it might be a source of concern given that he clearly has a lot going on already.

However, unlike the rest of the chapters, we see a Like Dove twice in chapter 4.

And when does it appear for the second time? Right after Taiga tells us there's a spy amongst the ghouls.

Yes, I am saying that the Like Doves might be being used to spy on the ghouls.

'cause when do they usually appear? Either a case has finished or something of relevance is happening/has just happened.

If Like Doves were created for this purpose in this academy, it would explain why Luca didn't know about them and why Taiga was so on edge when he spotted one. Taiga knows something's up, especially if we believe other theories saying that he knows what will happen in the future.

Also, the second time he spots it he doesn't freeze up and immediately goes to shoot it??? And then he eats it- which is normal for Taiga but LISTEN. Even Romeo is freaked out! Both times Taiga acts weirdly because of a Like Dove Romeo is visibly shaken by his behaviour.

And if this is not the case and Like Doves are just cute anomalies to make MC feel special, that's alright. It was fun to think about :P

I find Taiga's behaviour with all of this very interesting. I want to inspect him under a microscope, y'know?

Very fun, very amusing.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker theory #posted before chapter 5 #taiga hoshibami #lucas errant #kaito fuji #dawngel speaks

214 notes · View notes

m00nsbaby · 1 year

Text

The invisible barrier.

(Jake Lockley x F!Reader)

Tags - Warnings: Jake doesn’t know about Marc or Steven. Angst, smut, fluff, everything. Most of Jake’s dialogues are in Spanish, most of reader’s are in English except in November - December. Word count: 4,9 k. (Lol, sorry) Summary: A whole year trying to understand Jake Lockley. (Literally)

January.

"¡Hola!" (Hello.) The sudden voice next to you made you jump as you made the most important and complicated decision of the week.

Would you choose pretzels with dark or white chocolate?

Reluctantly, you turned to your side to see a man standing just a few inches away from you. On another occasion, you would have probably jumped back or fled to another aisle in the supermarket, but the apologetic smile on his lips and the puppy-like look in his eyes told you that he didn't want to be in this situation either.

"Perdón, ¿Podrías decirme qué dice aquí?” (Sorry. Could you tell me what it says here?) The words came out quickly from his mouth and you furrowed your brow in confusion. Your fleeting and ridiculous Spanish classes had never been of much use, even less now that you had the opportunity to help an attractive man.

"I don't... Huh." You cleared your throat, searching for a way to say, 'Maybe I can't help you, but I'll move heaven and earth to try.' Dramatic? Yes, of course, but what more could be expected from a hopeless romantic? Many love stories began like this in your mind; this was a scenario you had imagined at least twice before falling asleep. "No hablo español." (I don’t speak Spanish.)

The man blinked a couple of times, as if realizing that he had gathered courage for about 15 minutes only to lose his dignity like this.

"Oh." He cleared his throat, nodding afterward. "Thanks," he said shyly, as if trying to hide his accent.

"No, no, let me help you. What do you need?" You turned the bag of Cheetos he was holding in his hands so you could see the list of ingredients on the back as he was asking. Both of you were guessing what you were saying. Your gaze scanned the list, nodding your head when you detected the problem. Everything was written in English.

Sure, your aisle companion had an extra problem on top of that. The letters were too small for his poor eyesight, and he would rather ask for help from strangers than give up on the idea of using glasses.

"Give me a second." Your fingers quickly handled your phone as you took the bag from his hands.

You took a photo and the app took care of the work for you, translating every word on the red packaging you held. You didn't hesitate to take a step forward and extend your hand far enough for your phone to be at the stranger's ear level, who didn't question your methods for a moment.

He just stood still, listening.

"¿Colorante rojo número 6?” (Red dye number 6?) He questioned when the voice function finished. And you quickly scanned the phone screen, trying to find the part on the list that seemed closest to what he had just said.

Well, seis = 6, that one was easy.

"Yes, 6." You saw him smile and take the bag back from your hands to shake it in a celebratory manner. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why 6?" He guessed based on how you tilted your head to one side what you were asking.

"Soy alérgico al número 4, o al menos eso creo.” (I'm allergic to the number 4. Or at least, I think I am.) He pointed to his throat. "Siento comezón en la garganta cuando como cosas que lo tienen.” (My throat itches when I eat things that have it.")

Did you understand anything he said? No, nothing beyond the number 4. So, you smiled and nodded, eliciting a warm laugh from him.

He was cute.

"Gracias." (Thank you.) It seemed like he understood the basics, just like you. It was better to use his words than to deal with the pronunciation of the "t" and "h" together.

"It's okay." You shrugged while continuing to smile in a friendly manner. It wasn't because the stranger was incredibly attractive; you always behaved this way with people, or at least you tried to. "Enjoy your Cheetos."

Another giggle. "Cheetos," he repeated, imitating the way you pronounced the brand's name.

You rolled your eyes playfully and went back to the pretzels without saying anything else.

Well, there went the potential love of your life. Both of you were too shy to engage in casual conversation. You were aware that pretending to have the confidence to do so would be a lie.

Silently, you paid for your pretzels covered in white chocolate, looking around in case the guy was still nearby. After a few seconds, you gave up. Well, it was nothing out of the ordinary, even with one more chance, you wouldn't have approached him. More than 20 dollars for a bag of chocolate covered pretzels? That must be a crime, the first time you bought one . . .

"Hola de nuevo.” (Hi again.) The leather of his jacket brushed against your skin as you bumped into him. He was in the exact same position as you, one hand holding his Cheetos, the other clutching the receipt he was trying to read with squinted eyes.

You almost had a heart attack.

"Hi." You smiled, your cheeks betraying you as they turned rosy just from being around him like this. You had to take a step back after the clumsy little push you gave him.

"¿Tienes cómo regresar a tu casa?” (Do you have a way to get home?) You frowned at the question. This only confirmed that your crazy fantasy wasn't going to work out; there was a huge barrier between you.

He could see the confusion on your face so he pointed outside. It was raining heavily.

"Oh." You had been so engrossed in your pursuit of him that you hadn't thought about that. It wasn't a terrible problem, though; you could just wait until it calmed down.

You could spend another $20 on an umbrella in the worst case. Or call a car to take you the 10-minute walk to your house.

"I'll just wait." You had to remind yourself not to get too deep into your words.

"Yo te llevo.” (I'll give you a ride.) He quickly said. "A ride." The way the 'r' rolled off his mouth was enough to make you dizzy.

"Are you sure?" This couldn't be happening. This genuinely couldn't be happening.

"Of course, I'm sure," he repeated, smiling. This couldn't be happening.

It couldn't.

That night, you ran together to his car in the rain, laughing. He opened the door for you, even though it meant a few extra minutes of water poured on him.

You gave him directions through your phone, and you learned how to say "cuadras" (blocks) to guide someone next time, and he kept telling you something you didn't understand, but he noticed you were just nodding for him to keep talking.

He said goodbye with a kiss on your cheek. He used a word similar to "custom" to justify it, ‘costumbre’ maybe.

Oh, and you exchanged numbers. It turned out the stranger, Jake Lockley, worked as a taxi driver most nights. You understood that because the words "taxi" and "noche" were in your mental dictionary.

February.

Your first date was a disaster.

You never considered that to spend the day together, you had to exchange more than 5 words, and Jake stained your beautiful pink sundress with an ice cream that didn't even taste that good.

Oh, at some point, you tripped too. You were so focused on trying to understand one of the anecdotes he was telling you that you ended up on the ground with a scraped knee.

That wasn't so bad, though. I mean, you had Jake on one knee, checking yours. He even had you step on his thigh so he could clean you up with his ice cream-covered napkin.

When the day came to an end, he took you home. You noticed he had memorized your address, making it easier for both of you. You hummed a song together to cover the silence of two people who had to resort to other means of communication than talking.

"I had fun." Lie, this hadn't been anything like you imagined a first date, not after reading books or watching movies.

He nodded silently as he got out of the car to open the door for you.

And even though the date was a complete disaster, Jake kissed you.

He kissed you against the closed door of your apartment, holding you by the waist as if you intended to escape from his arms, begging you silently not to separate from him.

"¿Repetimos la próxima semana?” (Second date next week?)

March.

Text messages flowed throughout the weeks. Depending on the day, one or the other used the translator to send messages that the other could understand.

Sometimes they were just silly pictures, mostly of cats. You found a silly liking for sending him videos and photos of different animals in romantic situations, hugging each other and such, with only the description 'us.'

Jake responded ‘nosotros’ with different emojis depending on the day. He liked the white heart.

His car became familiar to you, as well as the late-night drives with music. You wondered if Jake had started neglecting his work to spend more time with you, and although it sounded selfish, you didn't care much.

You enjoyed his company.

April.

Your fingers played with his curls while both of you rested comfortably on your bed, you on the pillows, Jake on your abdomen.

He was surprisingly interested in one of the old books you hadn't touched in a long time.

"Jake?" He immediately put the book down to look at you. "Can you help me with a word?"

"¿Ahora?" (Now?) he asked.

"Right now."

"¿Cuál palabra?" (Which word?) He closed his eyes as your fingers continued to enjoy playing with his hair. It was so soft that the gentle caresses you gave were enough to mess it up.

"Boyfriend."

"Novio." You stretched your free hand with difficulty. He opened his eyes again, looking at you with interest as you struggled in the least attractive way to open one of your drawers with one hand. Something cracked in it.

You put the bag of Cheetos on his chest, clearing your throat afterwards.

"¿Quieres ser mi novio?” (Do you want to be my boyfriend?)

May.

"Jake?"

The car hadn't started yet when he turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what was wrong. You stretched enough to touch his knuckles, which were marked with a purple tone and scraped.

Your gaze went to him. It was as if both of you knew how to communicate through looks.

"No sé qué me pasó. Mi teoría es que golpee algo mientras dormía.” (I don't know what happened. My theory is that I hit something while asleep.) He frowned as he extended his fingers to get a better view of them. It looked like he had beaten up someone, and he couldn't deny that it hurt, especially when he gripped the steering wheel of the car.

"Are you still having those strange dreams?"

"Weird dreams," Jake whispered to himself as a way to remember your words. "Sí, sueños raros.” (Yes, weird dreams.)

You pursed your lips without saying more as you brushed his knuckles with your thumb, as gently as you could.

"Let's go." You finally gave in, returning to your seat with an unconvincing gesture.

June.

"I don't understand football." You said as you walked hand in hand, leaning some of your weight against his body.

Technically, neither of you were drunk; you were just flushed from the heat of the alcohol, giggly and a little tipsy. Jake had mentioned how funny it would be to go to one of those bars where they show football games for fans, even though neither of you were fans. Choosing a team randomly to support, drinking things with strange names, and maybe sharing spicy wings sounded like a good plan.

That was your Friday night.

"Tampoco yo.” (Neither do I.) Jake was doing his best not to laugh. He failed miserably.

When you reached his car, you leaned your body against it, and your hands ended up on your boyfriend's shirt. He immediately knew what you wanted, bringing both hands to your waist and leaning forward, closer.

"Is it hot here, or was it the 4 margaritas we drank?" You whispered while trying to contain your smile.

"Debe ser ese vestido.” (It must be that dress.) His lips brushed against yours. The sudden change in his voice made you shiver, so husky. “O por lo menos es lo que me está poniendo caliente a mi.” (At least I know that's what's making me hot.) It was the last thing he said before kissing you as if his life depended on it.

You moaned into his mouth, pressed between his body and the car. The kiss was wet as his mischievous hands slid under your dress, squeezing your ass firmly enough for it to hurt. Not in a bad way. "Jake." You complained as you looked around to make sure no one was walking by to see you.

"Date la vuelta.” (Turn around.) Apparently, your Spanish only worked in moments of convenience because you obeyed immediately. You turned your body with difficulty, mainly because he refused to let go of you. You felt his erection against you as soon as your cheek collided with the cold metal of the car. He was rubbing against your ass while biting your neck to his liking, sucking and licking your skin until he marked it. "Fuck, Jake." You whispered with your eyes closed. You could have cum right there with just his kisses and soft touches. Fortunately, he was more considerate because one of the hands that rested on your waist little by little went between your legs, your dress was already raised enough to only have to worry about your panties, he brushed his fingers over your abdomen before sliding his middle finger between your lips. First he wetted it well before moving up to your clit. His touch made you tremble and hiss. "¿Un par de besos te tienen así, corazón?” (A couple of kisses have you like this, sweetheart?) You could hear the smirk on his lips as his finger traced circles against your most sensitive area. "Imagínate como será cuando esté dentro de ti.” (Imagine how it will be like when I'm inside you.) A shameless moan escaped from you. "Eso quieres, ¿No?” (You want that, don't you?) He kept talking in your ear while he distributed one or two kisses between your neck and your shoulder. “Sentirme duro. Profundo.” (To feel me hard. Deep.) He simulated thrusts between each word, his hip pushing yours harder against the car and against his hand that kept playing with your pussy to make you whimper. You nodded without opening your eyes. "Con palabras." (Use your words.) He said clicking his tongue.

"Yes please." You begged desperately while trying to get air through your mouth. "Buena niña.” (Good girl.) You swallowed the complaint of feeling him take his hand out of your panties, just because you immediately heard how he started to unbutton his jeans. "Escupe.” (Spit.) You could feel his girth between your legs, letting you know that there were no more clothes involved. You took a few seconds to be able to clean the fingers that were inside you before with your tongue, making Jake groan just by imagining what you would do with your mouth in another situation. When you were satisfied you spat into the palm of his hand as requested. He wrapped his hand around his cock, and covered it with your saliva. He used the same hand to accommodate it between your lips. A sigh of relief left your mouth when you finally felt it inside you. A muffled whimper accompanied the way your muscles suddenly relaxed, as if that was what you needed. "Mierda, amor." (Shit, love.) As Jake's forehead rested against your shoulder, he muttered under his breath. "Voy a terminar rápido si sigues apretándome así.” (I'm going to finish fast if you keep squeezing me like this.) His voice made you dizzy, you mentally thanked all those days you spent understanding each other because his words could have been enough to push you to the limit. It didn't take long for both of you to pick up a delicious rhythm. When he pushed his hip forward, you pushed back to make him go deeper. When he was pulling back, you were pulling forward almost taking his member all the way out to prepare for his next thrust. You were so close you had to bite the hand he put to your mouth to keep from screaming. "¿Vas a terminar para mi, mi vida?” (Are you going to finish for me, my life?) He whimpered. Oh god, he fucking whimpered. He had a desperate tone to his voice, almost like he was comforting you. "Déjame sentirlo, por favor, por favor.” (Let me feel it, please, please.) This time it was he who was begging. Your saliva had started running against Jake's hand. You were seeing stars from squeezing your eyes shut, and how close you were wasn't helping at all. The spasms had started around him, and without warning, the inevitable happened. He finished inside of you. His cum being pushed deeper inside you with each thrust he took to finish his orgasm was enough for you to reach yours. "Amor, carajo.” (Love, damn it.) His voice cracked at the sensitivity combining with your walls squeezing him every few seconds. You were milking him. "Te amo.” (I love you.) He whispered as his breath interrupted each of his words. That was the first time he said it.

July.

The only thing that relaxed you was that this 360° turn apparently had nothing to do with you.

Jake was someone else.

His flirty and playful personality was just a memory to you. Under his eyes, there were huge dark circles since his dreams had become crazier and more frequent.

There were unexplained wounds on his body, according to him. Or sometimes there were none, but he felt the pain throughout his body, as if a truck had run over him, he said.

He became silent, as if he felt he was talking too much when he started to let out words about what was happening. He still hugged and kissed you, still spent afternoons with you and continued to respond “nosotros" to your silly animal photos.

But something wasn't right. There was something so... strange.

You did what you could to work on it, to let it pass.

Even if it cost you the trust in your relationship.

August.

Your hands trembled as you dialed his number for the tenth time that night. Maybe you were being dramatic, but Jake always made sure to let you know when he had returned home.

The sudden change that had occurred in him over the past 3 months didn't help at all. You wouldn't last a lifetime without wondering why his body kept producing wounds he claimed not to remember, or about those days of complete dissociation on his part, when he swore you were playing with him when you told him it was Saturday and not Wednesday.

"I just want to know you're okay." You whispered with a broken voice to the voicemail. "Please, just tell me you're okay."

There was no response that night. You couldn't sleep either.

The next day, when he showed up at your doorstep with the dark circles you had learned to get used to over the days, your body's first reaction was to push him with all your strength. It was only enough to make him stagger.

"You're an idiot." You spat the words, your eyes flooded with tears.

"Me quedé dormido anoche, perdón.” (I fell asleep, I'm sorry.) He didn't even seem to believe the words coming out of his mouth, but how could he explain to you what was happening in his life if he didn't even know what the hell was going on?

"How much longer do you plan on lying to me?" You didn't care that people passing by on the street saw you both as crazy. You in your pajamas, him leaning against the car as a method of protection.

"No te estoy mintiendo." (I’m not lying to you.) He raised his voice a little, letting out a lot of the feelings he had been suppressing for a while.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" The worst part was that you also had things bottled up inside you, the worry for him being the thing that choked you every day, squeezing tighter and tighter.

"Creo que no quieres entenderme.” (I think you don't want to understand me.) He was angry. You had never heard him like this, especially not directed at you. "Creo que ni siquiera estás intentando.” (I think you're not even trying.)

Damn the day you started to understand his words.

"I'm not understanding you, Jake?" You had already broken into tears. Your finger collided against his chest in an accusatory manner while he seemed unaffected, even though inside he was falling apart.

It was too much for him. Everything was too much.

"I've been trying for months to ignore what you're hiding from me." It was so difficult to argue in this way that frustration was suffocating you.

"¡No te estoy ocultando una mierda!” (I'm not hiding shit from you!) You snapped.

With fear.

Mid-sentence, Jake had reached out a hand to push you. Not with much force, just enough to separate you from his chest.

In seconds, he became aware of what he had done. If the car wasn't behind him, he would have moved even further away from you. He was overwhelmed by fear too.

He was losing himself as he had suspected.

"Me tengo que ir.” (I have to go.)

"Jake Lockley, if you leave, I don't want you to come back." Tired of seeing him run away from the problems, you resorted to the last card you would have liked to play.

You were foolish to think he would risk hurting you again. The last thing you heard was the sound of the engine accelerating to get away from you as fast as possible.

September.

The first part of September is blurry. You did your best to survive without him, but the days passed so quickly that you began to question if you were alive or just living in a bad dream that had lasted longer than necessary.

It was as if Jake was dead to you, without any sign, without any notice, nothing.

He simply disappeared.

The clear countdown of the days begins on the 13th, when your phone lit up to notify you that he wasn't doing much better than you.

✉: ¿Podemos hablar? (Can we talk?)

✉: Estoy perdido. (I'm lost.)

It hurt not having him, but it hurt more to see Jake's well-being. Not knowing how he was, where he was, what he was doing after that tragic day tormented you.

You replied, and the most important relationship in your life turned into a series of midnight calls where you tried to understand what your ex-boyfriend was mumbling from the solitude of his car.

You had friendships that had started in stranger ways than this, you could endure this.

Make it work.

October.

"Trick or treat." Mentally, he slapped himself for how ridiculous his way of reappearing was.

A half-smile appeared on your lips as you opened the door and came face to face with an embarrassed Jake, wearing your favorite leather jacket and both hands in his pockets as if he was waiting to be scolded by you.

"I doubt any of these things don't have artificial coloring number 4." That was your only response as you leaned your body against the door frame. With one hand, you held the huge container of candies that came out of hiding every Halloween.

"Estaba por aquí.” (I was around here.) Jake pointed back, the path that led to the supermarket, or at least that's what you assumed. He had a very lame excuse to see you, but that worked for you. The interest was enough. "Y pensé en venir a saludar.” (And I thought of coming. To say hi.)

"I'm watching Friday The 13th." You looked behind him. Children approached with shyness, seeking candy. "Come in, let me finish with the candies."

Your smile was so genuine that Jake's heart skipped a beat. How had he lasted so long without you? Those lost 3 months would always be present in the multiple mistakes he made.

That night, you kissed until it hurt. Until your lips hurt from bites, until the skin of his neck burned from love bites, until his fingers became imprinted on your waist. "I love you." You said between moans as the movie gave you an almost unreal vision of who the love of your life was. Flashes in white, in red, even in black showing you how beautiful he was from any angle or lighting. He made your sofa creak as he raised his hip toward you, thrusting into you even deeper if that was possible. "I love you, Jake." You repeated with a broken voice while your little jumps gained more strength. Your body was already exhausted, your legs were shaking and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck from sweat but emotionally you refused to get away from him. "Te amo. Te amo. Te amo.” (I love you. I love you. I love you.) His whispers mixed with his panting. You both seemed to be on the verge of tears. "Don't go away again." Your fingers tightened on his chest, scratching at his skin as you had done many times before. "Don't ever leave me again, Jake." The way you said his name burned in his heart. He brought a hand to one of yours to squeeze them on his chest, making you feel his agitated heartbeat. There was no need to say more, not while your kisses, movements and moans spoke for themselves. That night, as you rested on his chest after an orgasm that made you both shake from head to toe, he promised you never to leave. "Mi vida.” (My life.) He repeated as his fingers untangled your hair and your weight on him increased as you drifted off to sleep. "Mi cielo. Mi corazón.” (My darling. My heart.) He whispered in your ear. "Mi todo." (My everything.)

November.

Everything with Jake was stupidly easy.

Laughing, singing, existing.

As easy as in the romantic comedies you used to love watching before you met him. And it's not that you had forgotten about those because of him, but now you enjoyed watching action movies, those that allow you to get distracted without losing track of the plot.

You didn't press him to talk about what happened in those months, knowing that there were still a thousand secrets between you because you still saw strange bruises on his body, marks on his knuckles, or felt him getting up in the early hours of the morning when he stayed over with you.

"Leave me alone!" You ran down the hallway, laughing with him trailing behind. Probably restraining himself because it would be impossible for him not to catch you with his eyes closed.

He wrapped an arm around you to press you against his chest and used the other to prevent both of you from crashing into the wall. He was laughing too.

"Do you give up?" He squeezed you tighter with his arm.

"Never! Let me go!"

The laughter almost made it difficult for you to speak.

"Come back to me, and I'll let you go."

The seconds of silence churned his stomach.

"What?"

"I mean..." He cleared his throat. "Officially. Would you be my girlfriend? Please?"

It almost seemed like he was begging you.

You reassured his fears with a kiss.

December.

"I don't understand how you can eat these things." You took a deep breath through your mouth, sticking out your tongue, already reddened by the red dye number 6, to seek some relief from the burning sensation.

Jake was setting down a fifth box from his arms. He sighed, tired.

"No puedo creer que no me estés ayudando.” (I can't believe you're not helping me.) He approached you to steal one of the Cheetos from your bag while you licked your fingers. "Te dije que uses palillos chinos, así evitas el polvo.” (I told you to use chopsticks, that way you avoid getting your fingers dusty.)

"The dust is the best part." You popped your thumb out of your mouth.

"Disgusting." He feigned a look of disgust as he settled between your legs, resting a hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze.

"You didn't say that when..."

"¡Dios mío!" (My God!) He gasped, biting his lower lip to suppress his laughter. He leaned forward, stealing a chaste kiss from you. "Compórtate.” (Behave.)

"Are there many more boxes left? I didn't think you had so much stuff in your apartment." You pushed the box aside as you leaned forward to prolong your kisses.

"This is my apartment." He whispered with a smile against your lips.

"Touché." Your fingers slowly roamed his shirt collar before pulling him closer with a tug on the fabric. "What if you take a break?"

Jake's hands were already on his pants, figuring out how to unbutton his jeans without separating from your body.

"I'm never going to stop unpacking." He complained as his lips began to descend towards your neck.

Ok now that I have written happy endings for the three of them I’m sick of them, lol, I’ll try to get angst-ier with these thingies

#jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector #Steven Grant #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #Moon Knight #moon knight x you #marvel #Oscar Isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you

579 notes · View notes

l-in-the-light · 16 days

Text

Trafalgar Law and animals

It seems he is quite kind to animals, or at least he seems a little fond of them...

Evidence number 1: napping with a new (quickly tamed) friend on his wandering excursion to nowhere in particular (or so I envision this happening).

Evidence number 2: feeding random parrots just because they wanna try the onigiri. I bet he would feed random ducks at ponds as well lol.

Evidence number 3: after taking away the den den mushis he just released the snails into the wild (or took them inside the lab later, we will never know, lol). He's so bad to animals, right? He could have just crushed them when he was holding them in his palm, but nah, not his style. Snails are cool and didn't do anything wrong after all.

Evidence number 4: Chopper and Bepo. Bepo is self-understandable, but Chopper?? Law told him to shut up like twice. Yeah, but also he talked with him the most about his own issues with the plan (he can't defeat Caesar on his own for some reason he can't tell), and just few moments after meeting him. That's a huge step in the "trust" territory right there. Other Strawhats didn't hear anything about Law's own reasons of why he wants the alliance after all.

Evidence number 5: Komainu in Wano. He wasn't tamed by Tama's dango so he didn't have to listen to their orders or anything like that. It would be understandable if Luffy was the one riding in front, because Komainu spent some time with Luffy already. Law literally saw the Komainu for the first time here, just a moment ago. He already tamed it enough to ride in front and to lead the way to Oden's castle.

Okay, I think that's enough evidence (it's not like I have more anyway lol). Now let's take a look at this again:

I'm starting to think we're misunderstanding this scene. It's not Law being morbid (well, maybe a little), as in: he doesn't love dissecting dead frogs so much that he brought one into the picture. If you want to dissect frogs then you just dissect them, you know? Not carry a dead animal around with you anywhere you go.

Look, forever ago I watched enough American teen shows focused on school life to know that for some kids dissecting animals in anatomy class is a Huge Deal and they just Can't Do It, and they fuss over it for a whole episode. Believe me, if Law wanted to dissect this frog, it wouldn't be here in the picture with him, but it would be lying down dissected on the table, already forgotten. Meanwhile, it doesn't even have any mark that it was cut or anything.

Here's my headcanon about it: I think Law as a kid felt sorry for the frog. Either made it his friend (so what that it's dead? wow so judgemental smh I'm joking) or decided frogs shouldn't be dissected and wanted to give it a proper burial later on. My bet's on a friend though, because why else would he include the frog in the class photo? :D It's a photo with his school friends, it would be rude to exclude his new little friend as well! (the boy on his right clearly loves the idea btw lol. I bet he was good friends with Law)

We assume he wants to dissect it because 1. he comes from family of doctors and is a surgeon, 2. because of this picture:

Which kinda suggests the possible outcome from the encounter of scalpel+frog. But I think we might have to consider the opposite of what we thought he likes to do in his free time as a child (dissecting little animals like a psycho future surgeon in training). He just seems to be nice to animals, that's why. He would be nice to that poor frog as well, no matter if it's dead or not.

And then we have centaurs and I always ask The Question: what happened to the rest of the animal bodies?? (my guess is: they ate them).

I mean... Luffy is also nice to animals. He would still eat some of them, you know, to survive. But not his friends. Possibly also not Chopper.

And then there's this ongoing theme of people of the D. and their special relationship with animals. I mean, Luffy can tame almost any animal (Surume <3), Law has Bepo (though he's a mink, I guess), and Vivi has Carue, right? Three people already create a pattern... we also see a child Garp (in SBS) that tamed some wild beast as well!

#trafalgar law #one piece #frog #den den mushi #surgeon of death #tell me what you think about it :D #D no ichizoku #Trafalgar Law and his frog #apparently they also dissect frogs in Japanese schools huh

64 notes · View notes

all444miles · 1 year

Note

Hiii, I just saw that you were doing requests so I was wondering if you could do e-42 miles with black readers hair? Like helping her pick out different braiding and natural styles, maybe some wash day headcanons as well?

— TOUCH MY HAIR

— pairing: e-42 miles x fem!black!reader — genre: fluff — summary: just miles loving you and your hair ‹3 — a/n: tyyyy for this req, i am squealing rn + i alr had this idea in my prompt list but u gave me a reason to start it !! ‹3 my hcs always got miles saying sum outta pocket then the reader calls him out then he goes “my fault”, its a lil funny motif ima keep on adding 😭 also the n word is used a bit in this, js sayin!! enjoy ♡ ᖭི(ˊᗜˋ*)ᖫྀ

we all know n we've established this, miles is more than happy to pay for ur shit, esp if its your hair.

he wouldn't think twice before sending you the money for you to get your hair done. he wont listen or care if you say no, either.

"miles, bae, why u sendin me 200?" "what else? so you can get your hair done, mami." "baby, you know damn well that's too much." "buy yourself some other stuff too, if you wanna, but that money yours now, i ain't takin it back." "you.. you do too much." "mhm, make sure to show me a pic of when you get it done, you heard?"

he's always your hype man, for sure.

i got a feeling he a major fan of faux locs or boho/godess braids, so if you got that on? he'll fold.

"dayum ma, that shit looks good." "i cant even lie, Aaliyah did real good on this. she sure was tryna make me go broke though.." "worth every cent, cuz you look fine as hell with them faux locs." "miles." "im just saying, mami, your hair, like.. lord have mercy." "miles!" "my fault, i ain't lying though."

when your hair’s all natural, he loves to watching you style your hair for school, events, etc.

one time you let him style your hair, and you couldn’t even lie, it actually looked pretty good.

“these edges.. how do y'all do this shit every day?” “miles, baby, it ain’t that hard. look, lemme show you.”

you had to show him a quick tiktok tut on how to do edges, took him 2 videos before he got it 😭

“see that? like a c shape, and swoop it.” “..like this?” “yeah! you gotta do that like, 4 more times though.” “ay, dios mio. (oh my God). Mama, i ain’t doing allat.”

and wash day? his absolute favorite.

(short drabble ahead!)

Good Days by SZA played from Miles' speaker, blasting in the background, the gentle splashes of the warm water from the shower onto your curls.

You relaxed, your head leaning back further into the bathtub, your lover grabbing your scalp massager and rubbing it into your scalp carefully, shampoo mixed in, the rest of your products on the end corner of your bathtub.

"Ma, you know you really needed this wash. Your hair was tangled as shit, like a lion or sum.” he says, laughing halfway through his sentence. You scoff at him jokingly, "Miles, when you have hair as long and thick as mine, you can violate my hair."

Miles protested, adding the conditioner to your hair, setting your scalp massager aside. "Baby, my hair is basically almost as long as yours."

"Yeah, almost." you spoke, putting your fingers up to his face in pinching motion, the gems on your acrylics just an inch close to touching his nose, a grin on your face. He backed up, pushing your hands out of his face, continuing your wash routine. "Princesa, lemme finish washing yo hair without your hands all up in my face."

About 3 and a half hours later, your hair was washed and in overnight twists with your bonnet on. You laid with Miles in your bed, legs on top of each others, tired.

"Y'know, you actually good at dealin' wit my hair." you spoke, giving Miles a kiss on his forehead. “When you got a mama like mine, you pretty much have to.” Miles chuckled, shaking his head. “You should let me do it more often.” You smiled in response.

He buried his head into the crook of your neck, slowly dozing off by the way you'd play with the silk of his durag. "I love you Miles."

He mumbled words once again into your neck, half asleep, but you knew what he said.

"I love you more, mi vida."

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

926 notes · View notes

killshotbabe · 2 years

Text

Title | Overheated

Pairing | high school friend’s crush/bf!Jeno x reader ft. nct dream (minor appearance)

Warnings | minors dni! mention of smoking and alcohol consumption, use of swear words, reader stuck in an “uncomfortable” situation, close proximity, drunk!reader at some point, sexual tension, cheating/affair, jeno gaslights reader (or does he really?), fingering, implied solo masturbation, slight somnophilia, a bit "dub non-con" in the beginning, overstimulation, sex under the influence (reader only), dirty talk, unprotected sex (please wear protection!), implied public sex, no romance in any type of context

Word count | 4.5k

Song(s) | red - santino le saint, link up - kid travis

A.N | May or may not have dreamed about the idea of this lol. Just finished it today so happy valentines! (this one-shot won't make you blush that way...)

You’re not sure why your friend decided to it would be a good idea to go out with someone like him to begin with.

At first, you thought she’d get over him like usual, hoping it’s just a part of her “hyper-fixations” just like how she’s got maybe five crushes all at once (from what you can recall in one of those nights you spent hanging out in her bedroom) but much to your horror, it wasn’t as simple as that.

You remember her gawking at him at the cafeteria after she had jokingly pinched you, nudging you to check him out in which caused to roll your eyes and proceed to open the cap of your cold tea.

You didn’t care about crushes at all, and yes, he was cute, handsome even but the only thing that piqued your interest at the moment was that sleek navy blue motorcycle he brought to school. You’ve always wanted one and to say that you were jealous of him flexing one at such young age is nothing but an understatement — you wanted what he had even if you couldn’t afford it.

And that wasn’t fair to you. Not when he barely has to do anything when you’re out here working part-time at a pizza parlour and you can barely even pay half of the bills at home.

Him and his old money status can go to hell, you think. He doesn’t even need to show up to any of his classes and you’re one-hundred percent sure he’ll be able to get into any top universities so easily, he just has to maybe tell his parents—

“Hey, are you listening?”

You blink away from your train of thought, the faint bustle of the library buzzing into your ear.

You realize you’re still in the same place for about three hours now, trying to study with the same friend (which would be your only friend, not best friend yet though because you don’t like getting attached to things, let alone actual people) who had been yapping about him for the past hour, and you may or may not have told her to shut the fuck up in your head twice.

“Wait, sorry.” You lie, typing away as your friend broke into a sly grin after finally catching your attention. “What did you say?”

“I said I’m gonna talk to Jeno today.”

Jeno.

Him.

You couldn’t help but squint, almost bursting out of laughter.

You didn’t mind your friend at all.

She was fun, even if she’s the complete opposite of you. Loved cute things like pastel colours, calico critters and dressed the part as 1/4 of the future art majors in your campus (quirky, and she happened to obsessed with colour yellow), and collects a shit ton of squishmallows she even has a separate storage for it. She’s literally the true epitome of cute, preppy and pure.

Way too pure when it comes to that said department actually.

You weren’t even sure how someone like you were friends with her, and why she wouldn’t leave you alone but she was quite persistent with you — having to initiate things first after meeting you then following you around until you decided to just let her have at it.

Ever since then the two of you had been inseparable.

Though that didn’t mean you two were automatically best friends (even if she did say this a couple of times) and you would be lying if you saw it that way too when she mostly talked about herself, her hobbies, her interests, etc. unlike you who just sits there and listens, nodding your head off as if you do agree (mostly you don’t because you can’t relate or it’s just not your style) but you don’t really have the heart to tell her that… not when she’s generally nice and hasn’t really done anything to offend you.

You just admire the fact that she keeps dragging you around and never gave up on you. You don’t even know what made her want to work her butt off to earn your approval and have her invade your space like that, but you guessed that maybe she’s just someone you might need in your life.

…And that maybe, she’s there for a reason you can’t quite guess.

She hasn’t done anything stupid anyway.

…Until today.

“What?”

You balked, brows raised as she sighed dreamily, already planning her wedding dress for when she ends up marrying Jeno, her “soon-to-be high school sweetheart” as she mentioned just a few times and might have tried to manifest too with you in her room in front of her mini crystal collection she’s been obsessed with lately.

“I’m gonna say hi to him today! I’m sick of him not knowing who I am.”

If anything, you weren’t really surprised with this sudden revelation.

It was about time for her to finally try to introduce herself to him after crushing on him for two months now, and you do know she would have the great confidence to almost pursue anything, including him but you didn’t really want this day to come (hell, the thought of it was already dreadful) because you already knew what was bound to happen once she approaches him.

It’s like… surrendering a fawn to a den full of lions, and you can’t do anything but watch her get eaten, figuratively-speaking.

“You don’t look too happy, but that won’t stop me y’know.”

She winked mischievously, stealing a tomato chip off your lunch as you shook your head, a little smile playing on the edge of your lips.

“Do whatever you want but don’t rope me into your shit.”

You shrugged only to earn a scowl from her, her round eyes practically begging you to tag along when she introduces herself to him later on.

“But… c’mon! You don’t even have to say anything you just have to be there for moral support, pretty please?”

You could only sigh, pausing whatever you were doing just to look at her in the eye, already incapable of saying ‘no’ to her because in your defense she looked too cute.

You couldn’t afford to break her heart by saying no.

“Fine… whatever! Just get me ice cream after then we’re good.”

“Oh, I was about to say that too in case he rejects me ha ha,” she laughs off as she sipped on her watered down mango juice. “But at least I tried, yes? Then we can just enjoy our little ice cream date but I might cry…”

You weren’t even worried about that all, but you don’t say that part to your friend because guys like Jeno fancied cute girls.

Especially the innocent ones.

And your friend just might be the perfect girl for him.

To say that you weren’t right would be a goddamn lie, and you wished you were anywhere else but here, inside Jeno’s black sports car, the posh leather seat cold under your lap.

It’s been a month since the day your friend had introduced herself to him with such spark in her eyes you thought Jeno’s friends might have fallen for her too. One of them was even eyeing her from head to toe, visibly amused after seeing her short little skirt hugging her little frame.

Your friend, on top of being the real embodiment of cute, was still gorgeous and easy on the eyes, so it didn’t really surprise you when Jeno ended up giving his number to her as you tucked yourself away from his plain sight, hiding behind your much shorter friend when she confessed her feelings to him with so much confidence, it made you gag.

You weren’t really sure what happened overnight but just a week after, you found yourself on your own as your friend started hanging out with Jeno, his friends and their equally cute “girlfriends”, but she still made sure to spend half of her lunch break with you, even trying to drag you to their table but you could only reject her offer and excuse yourself because you had to catch up on an “assignment” when in reality, you would rather sit in the library by yourself than sit with them.

Then, today, you and your friend was supposed to go shopping by train but what she didn’t tell you was Jeno was gonna be there to drive the two of you so you don’t have to commute on the way to the mall and on the way back.

At first, you fumed having to deal with him being in an inclosed space as you, but it was indeed cold outside now that it’s halfway October and you certainly didn’t want to wait for the train with you friend in this type of weather (and maybe you did want to see his car up close and personal…) so you begrudgingly agreed, letting her yank you off your misery and plunge you into it all when she voluntarily pushed you to the backseat, your eyes drifting to Jeno who’s still talking to one of his friends, Mark, another guy from his group you do find just as attractive.

You could only roll your eyes as your friend wore her seatbelt on, giddily humming to herself. You gradually shifted your attention elsewhere, quite amazed with the clean and sleek interior of his car, but again it made sense.

Jeno was neat, never messy.

“Sorry, Mark was being clingy.”

You briefly hear him quickly apologize with a low chuckle as he slipped behind the wheel, his classy, citrusy scent invading your senses.

You cross your arms and looked away, trying to get him off your head as your friend’s slightly high-pitched voice cooed him “it”s okay!” and that “we can wait” ultimately, ignoring that fact that she just called him “babe” after.

This was one major thing you couldn’t bring yourself to fully admit — the fact that he’s now officially “seeing” your friend not even after a few months in which you felt no ounce of happiness about.

Your friend did inform you about it just a few nights before when she asked if you could come over and watch a scary movie with her because she noticed you were too busy and had no time with her (and you did feel bad because even if she’s always with him, she till spent some time with you only for you to run away for the most part) but she didn’t confront you about it at all.

If anything, it seemed like the usual chill nights you’d share with her until she brought him up and dropped the bomb on you without some sort of a warning beforehand especially when she can tell you’re not fond of Jeno nor his friends.

It felt like a sick joke, and it just feels like you friend is doing her best to make you change your mind about him which you don’t plan on doing so, not when you catch him doing PDA with your friend here and there you couldn’t help but swear at him in your head and look away.

The more time you had to spend with those two, sometimes with their friends, made you want to crumble or run off to the opposite direction.

They were exactly like what you imagined them to be, a couple of rich, privileged kids with filthy heads, the filth your friend is too innocent to be able discern.

They were sneaky about it too especially that Haechan guy who might have tried to get into your pants before, and you hated him so bad you had to tell him to back off you in which he called you feisty in return with the sinister promise of “you’ll want me someday.” before he left you to go smoke.

The rest of the group hasn’t really said anything to you yet. Sometimes they did but it was shallow and the girls hated your guts which is fair because you hated them as much (and with passion too). The only person you could perhaps stand in the group was Renjun.

The guy didn’t make any back-handed comments and he kept to himself for the most part but he did flash you a gaze occasionally wondering why you’re even here to begin with when it’s so damn obvious you don’t like anyone except your friend who always made sure you were included even if you tried to get away, and when you do try… it always ends with her getting what she wants.

And now you’re here, lost in your thoughts as you bore your full attention to the rows of yellow lights in the tunnel, the loud laughter your friend shared with Jeno mocking you.

He did leave the two of you alone to go shopping, and just came back to pick the you up as promised, then he’s supposed to drop you off first before her then they might go on a date like she told you earlier with so much excitement she couldn’t even choose between the two purses at a high-end store you were helping to choose from.

In the end, the two of you walked out the store satisfied — her with a new heart-shaped purse and you with a cashmere scarf you’ve been fancying on for months now that was on sale (which did hurt your bank account but your friend offered to pay half of it so you can just pay her back with instalments) this then provided some sort of a distraction for you, even offering to buy her a warm drink from the cafe as a sweet treat but since Jeno was already parked by the exit, you had to hurry.

They were still giggling as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the urge to strap your headphones around your head getting stronger the more you tuned in, even rolling your eyes when Jeno asked for her hand so he could give it a kiss as if you weren’t just there, witnessing the horrors.

Much to your looming demise, you try to relax and lay your head back with a determined attempt to lull yourself to quick nap anyway since your apartment is around thirty minutes away, so you fold your arms, turned your head to face the window and closed your eyes.

Not even ten minutes later, just when you were about to actually let sleep take over, your hear the deep rumble of Jeno’s voice.

“She’s asleep isn’t she?”

There was a slight movement from your friend, causing you to hold your breath as you feel her check on you.

“Yep, she did say she was tired.”

“She doesn’t talk much. Why are you even friends with her?”

Jeno snickered, taunting you from the rear-view mirror as you tried your best not to reach out and strangle him god willing.

He doesn’t even know you like that.

“She’s nice! Just give her some time.” You friend sighed, defending your honour which you almost snorted at but pretending to be asleep at this very moment was more ideal for you, you think.

You pushed yourself to further into the door, eyelids slightly parting just in time to see him give her a sleazy wink before you saw his hand land on her lap, making your heart drop at the sight.

You weren’t sure if you liked where this was going at all.

“She’s sleeping Jeno…”

You clawed on your sleeved, clenching your jaw when you hear Jeno whisper rather suggestively.

You knew it was meant for your friend, but he didn’t even bother hiding it, assuming you’re fully knocked out at the back seat.

“If you can keep it down, she won’t know.”

You swore you almost cried, knuckles turning white for how hard you formed into fists when you hear your friend’s shy giggles which enveloped to a series of quiet moans from the front seat when he began touching her down there as he drove, the soft r&b blaring from his speakers in an attempt to suppress the noises your friend was trying so hard to hide so she won’t wake you up, when in reality, you were very much awake to witness all of this happening.

At this point, you genuinely wished you were dead, begging for the door to just unlatch itself so you can slide off your seat and fall into the road to your death than sit here, being forced to hear your friend let out a strangled moan as he fingered her, easily dragging her close to her peak.

You wanted it to stop — for them to just cut it out and put an end to your nightmare but it only got worse as the time went by.

You can practically hear the lewd noises Jeno was making with his fingers as he played with her sheer arousal and the way he was talking to her in such a dirty manner for the sole purpose to make her cum in which she violently did just a few minutes later, an animalistic high-pitched squeak leaving her lips before she heaving and moaning his name shakily with him still fucking her with fervour, overstimulating her.

The subsequent scarlet hue spread on your cheeks, heating your face up, second-hand embarrassment kicking in as you chewed on your lip until you drew blood from your cracked ones, neck craning all the way to your side so your scarf could hide the horrified expression on your face.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or laugh — cry because he had the audacity to finger your friend at your presence or laugh because of the high-pitched noise your friend made. You think it’s a mixture of both and you think you might have gone clinically insane from that alone as this was not a part of your bingo card.

It’s only been a few weeks. Have they fucked already?

You try to contain yourself as you kept still when you hear them share a languid kiss in which your friend giggled to before she flashed you a quick gaze, making sure you were in fact, still asleep.

“She probably didn’t hear that did she?”

“I’m sure she didn’t.” Jeno’s mocking tone caused you to move slightly, but not enough to make him think you were awake all along.

Your neck became stiff after what seemed like forever, and as much as you wanted to stay in this painful position you knew you had rouse yourself up just because you couldn’t handle “sleeping” anymore, so you waited until your friend led him to your street as she navigated for him.

It was then the only time you stirred yourself up, alerting the both of them that you were now “awake.”

“Hey, sleepy head!”

You yawned, trying to look at her in the eye in the dark as you borrowed into your scarf, hiding half of your face.

“Yo.”

You diverted your to the windows and recognized your surroundings as the car halted just in front of your apartment complex, relief surging through you in sudden realization that you’re finally home.

“Thank god.”

You murmured under your breath, hand already fixed to the door handle, about to yank yourself out of there when your friend stopped you just before you can leave.

“See you next week!”

She piped up, her pupils shaking in pure excitement you almost asked what the hell she smoked to look like that when you already knew it was due to post-orgasm high.

You couldn’t help but to mirror her expression, but with a completely different reason.

You think you might want to commit right there if you kept smiling for ten more seconds, much like an unhinged criminal.

“Yeah! See you and thanks for the ride, Jeno.”

“Anytime.”

You see him nod at you, acknowledging your thankful nature (he probably though you were incapable of doing that) before you sprinted off, the two of them watching you attentively as you pushed yourself inside the lobby, cursing vehemently under your breath.

You didn’t even sleep that night, not when you find your underwear being wet from your own arousal after thinking about it again.

You don’t even like Jeno to any degree and yet, you still dreamed of him but not for good reasons.

Not at all.

And if your friend was to find out, it would be game over.

“I might have a friend who can take me in so Tony can come and fix this.”

You sigh, seeing as how the flooding got worse over the weekend due to the nonstop rainy weather and you, unfortunately, still rents the basement of a hosting family your mother personally knew but since they were on vacation in the UK and the main floor is locked, you can’t even access the floor and camp in the couch until the flooding issue gets fixed.

You’ve been on the phone with your host for an hour now explaining everything, and that they were going dispatch a friend to fix the damage shortly but still advised you that you’ll probably want to look for a friend to sleep over at for the mean time which you were okay with but you didn’t really want to do that even if you had no choice.

Hotels were costly so you dialled your only friend anyway whilst chugging what’s left from your coffee cup before tossing it in the nearby bin.

You’re in a local library now, left with nothing but a small suitcase you hastily shoved most of your every day necessities in to cover one week’s worth. Your host did say it should be okay to come back in a week or less so you made sure not to overpack, and you didn’t really want to stay there for longer, not when the slightly murky water felt cold around your feet.

“What? Are you serious!”

You sighed for what seemed like the 100th time today as you told your friend the whole situation.

“Not sure if this is going work but do you think you can take me in?” You inwardly groaned. “I can pay you.”

“Boo, I wish I can but my aunt’s over with my cousins I don’t have a space for you. Maybe after four days? They leave on Friday!”

“Well that won’t work, thank you though. I’ll go find a hotel—”

“No, no that’s going to be more expensive I can get someone to take you in though if that’s ok?”

You hummed, picking on your nail at the thought. Might as well give it a try.

“Sure…?”

“Ok, great! Give me a sec!”

You hear some sort of a movement from the other line before you hear your friend’s muffled voice once again.

“I just texted Jeno! He should be done working out right now. Where are you?”

“What?!” You let out a harsh whisper, trying to calm down realizing you’re in fact, still in a library. “Jeno—? I didn’t even agree just yet!”

“Well, he’s the only person I one-hundred percent trust with you even if you guys don’t talk but he’s got a huge place you can stay in and then he can even pick both of us up for school!”

“No,” You clutched your head in annoyance, trying your best not to hiss. “I— I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“What? Why? He already said he can do that though just now and I really don’t want you to spend money in a hotel. Too expensive. Good luck with Jeno though because he’ll say no with paying so you’re in good hands!” She laughed a little, making you huff on the other line. “Please? Maybe you guys can be friends. It gets so awkward when I’m with the both of you and you don’t even talk to him…”

“It’s just…” You try to explain. “I don’t know I feel like it’s so rude of me to just—”

“Honey, you’re not being rude! He literally said yes, and he’s got like two cars over there that you might like. If you ask nicely, maybe he can let you drive one to school? How about that?”

You wished she didn’t mention that at all, especially knowing that sport scars were your weakness in general and Jeno happened own two more aside from the one he drives to school.

You weren’t even sure if you had any ounce of dignity left at this point.

Hotels were costly, and you didn’t want to ask your mom for money to spend in a hotel thinking you’ve got a friend to cover for you, plus what you make from your part-time job wasn’t enough to foot the bill if you were to opt for a hotel.

If it was someone else, perhaps Mark or Renjun, you would probably agree without missing a beat (not like they would offer themselves in the first place, but if they did, you’d rather be with them) but this was Jeno.

The guy you’re friend is “seeing” and the same guy you thought about that night when you shouldn’t have.

You don’t even know if you could look at him in the eye anymore, and now you would have to stay over because he’s that nice?

“Heeeey, are you okay? I thought you ended the call for a second there.”

You cleared your throat, trying to make up your mind.

Am I gonna do this or not? Why the fuck would he even agree to this…

“I’m here sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, okay? I really want you guys to start talking… Don’t you think this is a good idea? He thinks it might be good too.”

“He said that?” You almost laugh. “Thank you, but…”

“He did actually and no buts! Do this for me please?”

“You… fine, fine…” You say as you give up, letting her win over you again.

“Okay! Yay!”

You hear her clasp her hands together before she asked where your exact location was again, intending to forward it to Jeno.

In the end, she simply gave your number to him so it would be easier, logically speaking, but you didn’t even want to save his number at all or have that exchange. It felt so weird to have him there, in your short list of contacts when you don’t even consider him a “friend” for that matter.

You weren’t even sure if you were doing your friend a “favour” even if she did say she trusts Jeno because deep down, you knew she shouldn’t be putting all the trust to him, not when you’re in the picture.

Especially not when you’re about to be confined in one space with no one else but him for god knows how long.

He didn’t even bat an eye when you slipped into the front seat of his car as he was in the middle of a conversation what you can assume would be Jaemin, blabbing something about some new pc game he got, so you strapped your seatbelt on quietly, not sure when would be the good time to thank him when you can’t even look at him in the eye.

“K, heading home. Talk later.”

He didn’t say anything either so you slowly fixed half of your attention to the road ahead of you and his one hand steering the wheel expertly, then gradually moved past that so you can finally glance up there, to his gorgeous side profile in which you admire a little.

He’s even more handsome this close, with his tall nose, perfect jawline and glowing fair skin — you thought you might have forgotten your words but you quickly look away, feeling the nervous energy course through your veins.

“No thank you?”

There was a slight tinge of tease in his tone, so you clear your throat, refusing to actually spare him another glance afraid that he might catch you looking more that you should have.

“Sorry… Just sad about the whole situation, but thank you for taking me in. I hope that’s okay with your parents…”

“Don’t worry.” He chuckled a little. “They’re in the Caribbean Islands right now. No one’s home.”

“Oh, that’s great.” You weren’t even sure if that offered some sort of relief on your end. “Always wanted to go there.”

“Maybe if you start hanging out with us more then I can take you there for the summer with the group?”

You think he might be joking, so you treat it as such, trying not to derail from what seemed like a pleasant conversation you two are actually having.

You knew your friend would be happy to hear the fact that you can actually get along just fine, but because of how you see Jeno and his friends in such a negative light, you’re not sure if you had the ability to stop being stubborn for once.

“Maybe.”

You sigh, now shifting your gaze to him again, noticing his muscular, yet lean upper body hugged by just one layer of his black turtle neck. You couldn’t help but to ogle a little, but you do look away, feeling the slight guilt creeping down your spine.

He’s literally one move away from dating your friend, so why do you find it so hard to look away? Not when there are more conventionally attractive guys in the group? Like Mark? Renjun?

I have eyes. I can look, that’s it. It won’t hurt.

“Oh, c’mon the more the merrier.” There was some sort of a drawl in his tone you couldn’t quite miss, but maybe you might have been imagining things. “Let’s see if I end up liking you enough though then maybe I’ll work so hard to drag you into the group and come with us to the Caribbean next summer vacation, yeah?”

Or were you really imagining things?

The first night wasn’t bad.

You learn that your friend wasn’t exaggerating when she did tell you he lives in a mansion.

There was a huge fountain in the middle of a private cul-de-sac, two mermaids made out of a slab of rock perched in right in the centre, flowing water trickling from the matching queen conches.

The gate was tall, and the impressive gigantic lot is nestled in what seemed like a canopy of endless tall pine trees. They literally had no neighbours close by and the entirety of the driveway was an actual boulevard, you think they could possibly fit another house over the area.

It felt like you entered a different dimension — the gated community of the rich didn’t feel real at all. Even the air felt expensive, and just when you thought that wasn’t enough, Jeno allowed you to spare a longing gaze to his two other fancy cars parked in a quadruple-door garage.

He did notice your obvious interest with the exterior of his cars so he lets you have your fun until you found yourselves darting inside his own floor which could pass as some sort of a penthouse.

You think he might not even see his parents even if they were in one house altogether halfway in. Hell, if there was party being hosted by him for two days in a row his parents won’t probably hear any of it.

“I have a spare room when the guys sleep over so you can stay there for now. Don’t think I’d have anyone over soon so you’re good.”

You stand in the middle of the spare room, checking the surroundings like some sort of a curious cat.

It was super neat, had some distinctive art pieces by the walls, but it did look like where they would hang out judging from the game consoles tucked into the black drawers under the gigantic screen tv and the mini fridge with a snack bar situated in a corner surrounded by neon lights.

“Thanks again, Jeno.”

You tell him as he leaned against the doorway, a pleasant expression on his face upon noticing the way you looked awestruck with the room arrangement.

“No probs. I’m just one door away so let me know if you need anything. Usually up until 1 am. My maid isn’t here she’s on vacay so just it’s just us two.”

“Sure.”

He left you alone like that, letting you bask at thought of him even having a maid. You think he might have an entire staff like a “head chef” running the house, but sooner or later you learn they’re all on vacation since they were all related which leaves you and Jeno all alone in such a big house, though despite that, you couldn’t help but feel the foreboding anxiety blaring through you like fire alarms.

There was an itch you couldn’t pinpoint and it drove you crazy the more you stayed over, and even if the first night went equally well like normal, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of guilt wrecking through you, so for the next two days you got in touch with Tony, the maintenance guy, in hopes to hear something positive about the situation back home so leave early.

Much to your demise, it won’t be until a few days so you gave up, trying to calm yourself down as you tucked yourself to bed right after doing your homework on your third night.

Your friend visited you a few hours before but since her and Jeno had plans for the night which involved the guys, Jeno might be coming home around dawn. You couldn’t help but feel the crash of relief to be finally alone for once which was bad for you to admit since you’re literally staying in his house for free, but having him there to share a space with made you feel too damn guarded and you hated that.

It wasn’t like he was watching you either — if anything, you’re the one who was doing more of that especially when you ate together after he offered to cook, and if he did order take-out, he asked what you wanted and delivered it right to your door just because you didn’t feel like going downstairs when you should’ve offered but upon finding out he was in the ground floor from their own home gym, you decided not to.

He didn’t even bother putting a shirt on when he knocked on your door, letting you see his bare abs through the wide split of the door so you were quiet thankful you didn’t make your way downstairs even when the damage has been done and it did nothing but make things worse for you.

“The passcode is the last four numbers of you number.”

He concluded as he gave you a quick rundown of instructions in terms of the security system.

You nodded obediently, quite touched at the fact that he made you your own designated password even if you’re only staying for a couple of days.

You weren’t friends with him yet, but he sure made things easier and was quite civilized the entire time, even putting all the trust in you to be in the house but the cams were all on so he can literally see what you would be up to unless you lock yourself in your room.

You follow closely behind him and your friend now holding hands with him as the three of you entered the garage. Your friend gave you a little pat on a head muttering a “good girl” in a light, teasing tone before they eventually drove away, leaving you by yourself for the next few hours.

You actually planned to do a mini tour and explore the other floors besides Jeno’s floor but because you didn’t want to end up falling to any “trap” doors (Jeno did mention that once as a joke but you didn’t want to risk it) you chose to stay in your room instead and watched movies on netflix with a plan to reheat the leftover pizza from last night.

Around midnight, you found yourself by the mini bar, wanting to try some of the alcohol he had so you pop a Hennessy from the glass shelf into a mug instead to pair with some sun chips to munch on at midst of a thriller movie you picked.

After downing what seemed to be a couple of glasses within the passing hours, you nursed an impending headache throbbing in your head. You could only curse, the thought of being completely hangover the next day already pissing you off.

You were more of a social drinker, but you think it’s been a while since the last time you attended a party and back then, it wasn’t so bad. You were still able to walk and say sentences incoherently after a few shots but this was worse.

You’re severely tipsy at this point, gaze all hazy as you attempt to shut the tv off, squinting over the rolling credits you can barely read off from.

You yank your crewneck over your head after feeling too hot, opting for just a mid-length slip as you tumbled out of your room, wanting to head to the bathroom with the sudden urge to splash some icy cold water on your face but you weren’t fully thinking as to where you were heading until you managed to somehow push into Jeno’s room, arms splayed in the dim-lit space.

You stumbled your way into his own bathroom adjacent to his bookcase, locking yourself in.

You were about to pass out inside, suddenly too sleepy to function but still made it out of there only to end up locating his equally large, yet better bed, his sheets cool under your skin which eased up the liquid fire running in your bloodstream.

You weren’t really sure what you did next, but the faint smell of his citrusy scent from his nice, cold sheets, you didn’t care about anything else and instead, slept through the great comfort of it all.

Unbeknownst of you, Jeno did end up going back home earlier than planned, but without your friend this time.

He was too exhausted to even notice that something was truly off by the time he got into bed, shirt off, sleep knocking him out a few minutes in.

“She won’t know.”

He placed your arms on the curve of your back as he pinned you to the wall in a hallway absent of any light.

You feel his sweet, minty breath on your nape, his strong hand tight around your wrists in a vice grip with the intention of not letting you go.

You were so breathless now, letting him do what he wished, his free hand tracing the outline of your thigh as he yanked the hem of your dress upwards, groping you from behind, whispering sinisterly in your ear before kissing the slant your shoulder, his hand snaking dangerously inside the silk fabric until he replaced your bra with his, playing with your breasts in a manner that drove you nuts.

“You’ve thought about this haven’t you?” He pressed, as you whimpered helplessly, back arched with your behind brushing against his. “Answer.”

“Y-yes…”

You sigh, unable to control the soft moan emitting from your throat when he eventually slid his hand in your underwear, callused fingers rubbing your clit now covered with pure arousal, spreading it all over your aching sensitivity.

“I didn’t even have to spit.” He hissed sardonically. “But I think you’ll like that, yeah? What do you think? Do you want me to spit on your pussy?”

“F-fuck… yeah…”

You feel him pull his fingers off you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact when you hear him spit behind you, immediately sliding his hand back into your soiled underwear after doing so, messily mixing the glob of his spit with your slick arousal you think if he kept this up, you would cum in no time without even having him fuck you at all.

“You’re disgusting…” He hummed in satisfaction, ultimately parting your pussy lips so he can pump a finger in, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your spine. “I like that.”

You hear him groan at the feeling your tight walls around his long, slender fingers, a series of swears rolling off your mouth when he began fingering you, fucking his spit into your throbbing hole all desperate for him and him only.

You rubbed your thighs together in a desperate attempt to itch the pulsating sensation between your legs, the bundle of nerves you eventually pressed on in your sleep made you whimper softly, the pleasurable feeling intensifying the more you rubbed yourself.

This was the second time Jeno had unmercilessly plagued your dreams again — like an incubus haunting you in your sleep, but in the end, he gives you what you desire — to come so hard you thought you’d black out.

You’ve never even drawn yourself to that type of high before you even knew who he was, but after what happened in the car, you couldn’t help but think of how good it would be to have him fuck you instead of your friend.

You did feel guilty for having this type of thoughts about your friend’s own boyfriend, but having him wreck havoc in your head after hours, was mind-numbing, it was almost addicting.

You’ve tried and fought so hard to stop thinking about him, trying to replace his face with someone else like Mark, or even Renjun or some other celebrity you fancied but when you’re just a minute away from reaching your peak, you can’t help but bring him back and let him take over you, his face alone making you come so hard your legs would shake as the raw lust mixed with shame riddled all over your skin.

Tonight was the same, except you were actually in his house and on his bed, touching yourself without any awareness about your surroundings and absolute care in the world, not when you had creeped your finger inside your now wet underwear, intending to finger yourself on your side, but before you could do that, you tucked yourself under the comforter seeking for warmth, back flat on the mattress as you slide your hand back in, moaning at the contact once again, legs propped with your knees bumping against each other as you played with yourself, eyes tightly shut.

“It hurts…” You whimpered lightly, still dreaming as you tilt your head to the side, brows furrowing in frustration. “I need…”

Jeno, who had been sleeping just right beside you, eventually stirred, turning to face you with a sigh, starting to be aware with the noises you were making but thought it was a part of what seemed like a dream for him too so he made no move until you inched closer and closer, now only one move away from touching him.

You’re facing him now, his familiar sweet scent elating your senses, it being the only thing to make you move faster, your middle finger playing with your growing wetness before you eventually slid it in, biting your lip at how tight you felt and wishing it was him doing it for you instead.

“Jeno…” You huff, you free hand snaking under your slip to grope your breast, hissing from how hard your nipples had gotten.

Jeno, now half-asleep, responded with a tired “hmm” as he hovered closer, his hand landing on your hip to pull you closer to him, sealing the small gap between the both of you with his face now resting on the curve of your shoulder.

He hears you purr sweetly, fingering yourself faster when you feel him lay a light kiss on your bare skin, his hand finding your jaw so he can tilt your chin up, kissing you there but deeper.

You didn’t even care anymore. No shame surging through you thinking this was a mere wet dream even if it felt too real, so real you could actually see him in the shadow but because the lights were so dim, you couldn’t make a face but his beautiful scent and warmth was more than enough.

You just needed to feel him, have him ruin you more just like how he does in your dreams.

“Aren’t you tired?” He whispered huskily, realizing you were fingering yourself when he circled his own around your wrist, stopping you. “What are you doing?”

“I want…” You mumbled, distress coating your tone when he yanked your hand from your underwear ever so gently. “I want to cum…”

“Want to?” he cooed, keeping his eyes close as he parted his lips open to suck your slick arousal from your fingers, earning another moan from you before he let you grab him on the shoulder, his own hand now snaking inside your underwear.

“Fuck, just-just put it in, please…” You begged, circling your arms around his neck as you lifted your leg, resting it on his hip.

You hear him hum, the deep rumble of it making your head go numb.

He wasted no time, pleased with your whines when he slid his finger inside your soaked pussy, fingering you slowly until you found yourself in a verge of breaking out of a sob, your knuckles turning white on his shoulder as he fucked you faster and harder at your request, fully attentive with the way you were squeezing him, sucking him further into your throbbing cunt, making him go crazy for how increasingly wet you’ve become.

“J-jeno!”

You half-screamed, back arching as he hovered on top of you, his head disappearing on the crook of your neck to kiss you right there before you feel his teeth bite the strap of your slip, yanking it down your shoulders.

He was going way faster now, fingers curving up to rammed on your sweet spot as you struggled under him, thighs closing tightly around his flexed arm just when you’re about to reach your peak.

“Don’t you want to come?” He smiled sleepily, sucking your left nipple with so much want it only drove you closer to your orgasm. “If you’re a good girl, you will, won’t you?”

It was scary how it feel too damn real — you could even hear him up close and personal and it was too overwhelming, but you couldn’t open your eyes, not wanting this dream to ever end, not when he’s about to make you cum so hard like this.

So you pushed through it, the lewd squelching of your wetness from him fucking into you the only thing you could hear, his equally pleased moans gracing your ears when you tell him you’re almost there.

“Fuck, fuck…fuck! I’m,” You cried, shaking violently as you finally snapped, hands flying on his in an attempt to stop him from fingering you in a brutal pace but he didn’t allow you.

Instead, he forced you to ride through it all as you cursed, head thrown back until you began sob from overdrive, thrashing and squirming under him only to make him pin your arms above your head, your slip pulled all the way to your neck, letting him feel your bare skin, your underwear being torn by him, tossing it on the marbled floors.

“I’m fucking you.” He growled, eyes parting slightly, unable to see you fully but the feeling of having you all naked and weak under him made him a little crazy. He wasn’t even sure if this was just a dream anymore, but he had his own personal desires needed to be taken care of. “You’ll let me, right?”

“Please…” You begged as he lifted your dress all the way to your face, turning it into a blindfold causing you to spread your legs wider for him, too aroused with the way he was trying to limit your senses. “Fuck… just do whatever you want, please…use..use me…”

“Can you even take me?” He smirked, tracing small kisses from your jaw all the way to your sternum as your breath hitched. “You’re this desperate, huh?”

You hear him unbuckle his belt as you begged, wanting him to give it to you already, afraid that this dream might come into an end.

“Please, Jeno…”

“Sounds better when you say it like that…”

He sighed, giving himself a few generous strokes before you felt the tip of his hard cock rub your pussy, giving you a few jabs before he slowly slipped inside you just halfway, wanting you to get used to his size so he waits for a tap which came just a few moments later, and gives it to you, a matching lustful moan being knocked out from yours and his.

“So b-big…”

You grabbed his biceps as he held his breath, trying his best not to fuck you like a wild animal for how amazingly tight and warm you felt around him, squeezing around him repeatedly, almost drawing him to the edge.

“Your pussy can take it…” He whispered, fucking into you slowly. “If I fuck you like this, you’ll take it…and if I go faster?”

“Ah!” You cried as he snapped his hips into you, the wetness of your pussy coating his entire cock, drawing him deeper into your cunt. “Don’t stop… fuck, f-fuck feels so good, so so good.”

“I know, baby…” He hissed vehemently, face buried into the crook of your neck as you let him fuck you faster, the slightly deep baritone of your tone intensifying the fact that he wants to ruin you, even if this wasn’t reality because god knows what he will do it had been, but for some reason, he didn’t felt any type of shame if this wasn’t a dream— just the carnal desire he felt for you, the girl who seemed to hate him for no valid reason.

You clutched the sheets as he pistons in and out of you, ultimately driving the both of you to each other’s peak.

He doesn’t let you touch him, his hand fixed to your wrists on top of your head as your jaw went slack, breath hitching as your legs trembled, alerting him that you were there.

“Fuck, spread your legs wider.” He demanded through gritted teeth, strong thighs stuttering against yours as you obediently did what he asked. “That’s it, pretty girl.”

It didn’t take long when the two of you finally came, you being the first to snap as he followed-through just a few seconds later, pulling out of you so he can cum on his bed sheet instead.

You immediately fell asleep right after, smiling through it all just like he did, the looming taste of regret awaiting to ruin everything in the morning.

Or would it?

You awoke to an unfamiliar bed, already panicking upon finding out you’ve been sleeping in his room the entire time so you quickly pad down the silent hall, disappearing inside your own room with a huff.

You ignore the throbbing headache in your head as sat on your bed, a little shaken and not knowing to go about explaining what just happened if he was aware of it, but you think he’s not even home or if he was, did he end up sleeping elsewhere?

You grabbed your crewneck and fixed yourself in front of the mirror, about to head downstairs and find him when you feel something odd, so you lift the hem of your dress, discovering that you didn’t even have an underwear on.

The memory of him taking it off you haunted your train of thought — last night felt too raw, too real and you think it maybe because you’re starting to be delusional, using the advantage of staying in his house and touch his stuff that weren’t yours.

You assume this might have catered to it all and you weren’t even sure if that’s something to be happy or angry about.

You figured it wasn’t — in fact, it was too wrong and you wanted out so you immediately text Tony for an update before heading downstairs to find Jeno.

Jeno, you learn, was not alone.

It was a Saturday after all, and he happens to be on the phone by the living room, his full attention watching the glowing fireplace in front of him, energy drink on-hand as your friend darted from the kitchen, immediately seeing you.

“Oh, she’s up!” She announced, running to hug you with a beam. “Jina and I are going to get our nails done and she’s picking me up, you wanna come?”

“Oh, um… that’s okay.” You falter as Jeno turned to look at you, gaze unreadable. “I’m leaving soon anyway, like going back to my place.”

“Oh! Well maybe next time? Jeno is leaving soon too but won’t be dropping me off. Jeno, help her okay?”

You avoid the way he’s looking at you now, quite embarrassed with the fact that you literally just slept in his bed and even dreamed of him fucking you. You just hoped he had no idea, and if he did know, you knew you couldn’t bear to show face any longer.

“I’ll plan us another date. Just you and I. I promise!”

You let your friend drag you to the entrance and albeit dazed from the unholy thoughts you were suddenly having about Jeno, you managed to brush it off and watch your friend leave, waving her a small good-bye, the guilt surging through you once again after seeing her.

You were just about to lock the door when you feel him hover behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the sound of his deep voice invading your cloud of thoughts.

“I’m gone for one night and you’re suddenly touching stuff that aren’t yours?”

So he did know. But does he know?

“I’m sorry…” You exhale, sighing regretfully but refused to look at him in the eye. “Got a little drunk then looked for the bathroom—“

“See… that wasn’t the only thing I’m upset about though.”

You gulped as you feel him walk closer so you slowly back away, the shocked gasp leaving your lips as you feel the pressure of the door behind you, him towering over you now.

“What?”

“Do you know what I’m talking about?” He questioned, a little on edge. “Don’t act dumb now.”

“I said I was drunk and I’m sorry.” You apologized sincerely, the overwhelming silence skyrocketing your anxiety. “If there was any damage—”

“No, that’s not…” You hear him chuckle as he drove his hand to the door, cornering you like a predator, but you remain still, stopping yourself from looking up or it was going to over. “Do I have to explain?”

“I don’t…”

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

Your eyes rounded in shock, immediately tilting your chin up so you can look at him in the eye this time, suddenly angry at his accusation.

“What made you say that?” You snapped, watching him shake his head in amusement but you weren’t buying it. “Jeno.”

“You’re something else.” He whispered softly, eyes searching something in yours before you feel him inch closer to your ear, his lips brushing across the shell of your ear. “You’re insane. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Jeno, what the fuck?”

You pushed him off you but he could only laugh, head tilting to the side, a smirk now evident on his face.

He was too handsome, it almost drove you nuts if it wasn’t for the way he just insulted you.

“Guess I’d be the first but don’t worry, I’m not that angry, you know?”

You clenched your jaw, watching him advance to you again with an intent to pin you against the door.

“You’re full of shit. I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about when all I’ve done is —”

“We fucked.” He sighed, reeling closer when you clamped your mouth shut, looking away from him. “Why, you thought you were dreaming?”

“You’re joking.”

“See, I’d like to think I was. The whole time I thought the same until I find you in my bed in the morning.”

You faltered, unable to think straight when you feel him trace the outline of your jaw, grabbing you by the chin gently to make you shift your attention back to him.

“Jeno.”

“You said my name too. Just like this.” His darkened gaze pierced yours, pupils blown. “You like me that much?”

“We can’t do this.” You grab his wrist, pushing him away with a huff. “It was a mistake!”

“I’d like to think the same but for some reason…” He took another step, completely caging you in just like you were always meant to be for him. “You’re fucking everything up.”

“How is that my fault —”

“You should’ve pursued me first, that’s all.”

Your eyes widen as he cradled your face, drawing you completely speechless.

Turns out, he was crazier, even more sinister with the way he’s touching you so inappropriately right now you feel like pushing him off and running out to escape but you simply couldn’t. You knew you wanted him too even if you shouldn’t.

Not when the damage has already been done, and you’ve opened a pandora box, unleashing his hidden desires on board with yours, the sinful thoughts you’ve been trying so hard to seal away for no one to figure out.

“You don’t give a fuck about her?” You swallowed a lump in your throat, a pained expression on your face as he kept up with his ministrations, his hand now holding yours. “Why are you touching me…”

“I like you.” He confesses with a shrug like it was something so simple to do, his piercing gaze meeting yours again. “You think I’m into your friend?”

“You’re sick.”

You say through gritted teeth, raw anger still there but the more you allowed him to stare you down like this, the more it dissipated. The desperate hold you had around it vanishing to thin air.

“And you think you’re not?”

There was that same fiery edge to his tone now, his grip around your hand tightening. You try to break free from his grasp until you hear his phone ring. You were just about to use that as way to completely push him away, but he cut you off, demanding you to stay still.

“We’re not done.”

You watch him answer the call, fear on your eyes when you discovered it as your friend asking if he could pass the phone over to you just because you weren’t answering yours.

“Talk to her.” He demanded, his stern tone sending shivers all over your body when you placed his phone near your ear.

“Hey,” You greeted your friend, trying to sound as normal as you could before shying away from the way Jeno’s eyeing you right now. “Was in the shower. What’s up?”

You let your friend take-over, asking if you wanted anything from a specific shop near the nail salon she was in and had been trying so hard to get your mind out of the gutter for the past minute that seemed to flow by in forever. You found yourself stuck in the middle — part of you wanted to tell her about what you did just like that no matter what the consequences were but the other half simply haunted you, did you really want to stop? When the guilt should be burning you alive right now but for some reason, you hardly felt anything and you weren’t sure what to make of that.

“You don’t care about your friend, do you?”

“The one with stars is cute but you don’t have to— it’s okay,” You shook your head, completely missing the fact that Jeno had gotten even closer. You catch on to him before he lowers his head to the side of your face, about to murmur something.

“Stop.” With the phone away from your lips, you attempt to get away but he only holds you still, hand fixed to the curve of your waist. “Jeno—”

“Just tell me the details later!” Your friend squealed over the phone. “And tell Jeno to read my text!”

The call ended just before you could utter something but the phone from your hand was snatched away in a millisecond, suddenly finding yourself gasping when Jeno placed his knee in between your thighs, feeling you up with his clothed knee, his hand now groping your breast.

“Quit it, won’t you?” You bit your lip, hand fisting his top as he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. “You want to run away so bad but I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do so don’t lie to yourself.”

“Jeno, stop,” You begged, arousal already pulling in your underwear when he forced you to grind down on his thigh, holding all your weight up alone with just that alone. “Jeno…”

“I’ll let you go f that’s what you want.” He grunted as you began to grind on him, growing more aroused with the way you were whining, struggling on his thigh. He challenged you, even if he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist all of this.

Resist him.

You whimpered as he removed his thigh between your legs, letting you off but you don’t make a move.

“You want to go?” You could only gaze back at him, completely in trance as he grinned down at you, his sardonic expression reeling you in. “Then go.”

It didn’t take long until you finally snapped altogether, crashing yourself to him to latch your lips on his in sheer frustration, an audible groan coming from him as he nibbled your bottom lip, lifting you up, hands all over your body.

Sooner or later, you found yourselves in bed, having to have exhausted each other but there were no words shared after it all.

You weren’t even sure what to do next as you laid there beside him, watching him sleep on his back, head turned away from yours. It was then you felt your heart crumble into pieces, the immense jolt of pain suddenly waking you up from trance.

Do I really want to do this?

You left the next morning just like that, not wanting to pursue this wrong deed at all, and without a word other as you hailed a taxi. You deleted and blocked his phone number and made a plan to somehow try to avoid him and your friend for the next few months, but it wasn’t simple like that, and yet, you tried to stay away.

For the next six months, it was like that — with you and your friend slowly falling apart because you no longer shared classes for second semester and you made no amends to even see or spend time with her, having to have met other friends you shared classes with and then her, with the boys and their girls.

You were also thankful of Jeno not pursuing anything with you too. You barely saw him around due to the fact that he did sign up for more sport-related activities so naturally, he disappeared from your sight. He must have thought that it was clearly a mistake just like you did, and you fought to repent for your sins and you wished he did too.

You didn’t keep track about anything that had to do with them anymore and decided to focus on your studies like you’ve always had from the beginning to prepare yourself for graduation and university requirements. Your great efforts did pay off in the end, having to graduate with almost on top of all your classes and getting into one of your top three universities.

Life seemed great for you — quite elated for the next journey you’re bound to go on for the next two years now that senior year was over and so was the evening dinner you had to attend because it was mandatory despite wanting to opt out of it but you made sure to leave early as you had no plans to sit in the fancy banquet of a five-star hotel and “get entertained” when everyone either sat around to chill or lose themselves in the dimmed down dance floor.

By 11 pm, you bid your goodbyes to a panel of teachers, one of them being your favourite, just in the next room in the hall, then gunned down to the parking lot where you parked your car.

You dug your keys in your purse, humming to yourself when you spot someone’s slick black shoes right next to your car so you stop and blink, shifting your attention the wide plain of his familiar broad back, his white dress shirt being the only article of clothing he has on with some tailored black plants that probably cost five months worth of rent.

“Jeno.”

“Nice ride you got.” He drew the cigarette away from his lips, grey smoke hitting your face as you slowly took a step back, unable to form any coherent sentence upon realizing that he’s standing before you now. “New model too. Gift, maybe?”

You do know you’ve been trying to avoid him.

As much as you tried however, he was there, always in a crowd and you never missed a handsome face like his. He burned in the back of your head so easily, but it was too difficult to get him out no matter how many distractions you could come with, and even if most of it worked in your favour he still lived inside your head like a parasite.

A parasite you may never end up getting rid of.

“I’m going home.” Was all you said, trying to stay stoic and unaffected as he advanced to you, even more irresistable now that he’s worked out more and grew his hair a little longer, a strand from his gelled back fringe curving on his forehead and it did nothing but clench your jaw.

He was just too handsome, you were close to believing no one would be able to resist him at all, not even the new arm candy he brought as a date to dinner since your he has apparently broken up with your friend a month before graduation due to a sudden drastic change in her family’s living situation.

You soon find out she was never coming back, and apparently “long distance relationships” wasn’t Jeno’s thing.

“This early?”

There was a coy smirk on his face, cigarette resting between his lips. You stood there, liking the smell, reminding you of your father back home so naturally, you stayed where you are, feet starting to hurt from the five inch heels you regretfully wore to dinner.

“Yeah, I have work the next morning.”

He’s one step away from you now, his full attention scanning your red dress from head to toe, liking the tight fit around your soft curves. You try to stand your ground anyway, albeit about to burst into shivers from the way he narrowed his eyes to you now, blowing another puff of grey you ended up inhaling into your system as well for how damn close he’s gotten, invading your comfort zone.

“That’s a shame.” He circled around you like some sort of a predator, but without touching you until you feel him stop just inches away, his hard chest brushing against your back. “Well go on, your car is right there.”

Your breath hitched as you began to walk to your car, unlocking the back door to throw your purse into with a slam. You don’t say anything as you placed your hand on the handle, chewing on your lips as he quirked an eyebrow, wanting to know what seemed to make you look a little stressed and all tensed up.

“Your date.” You slowly met his amused gaze. “How long?”

“Didn’t sleep with her if that’s what you were wondering.” You didn’t even want to lie — the wave of relief crashed through you, engulfing you in so you let go of the handle and headed to him, letting your burning desire drag you all the way to his arms as he pulled you into a suffocating embrace. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Jeno flung his cigarette off his lips to kiss you hungrily causing you to moan in his mouth, tasting the peppermint candy he’s had and the slight bitterness from the cigarette but you didn’t care.

You didn’t care until he threw you in your backseat, ripping your underwear off you so easily and gave it to you right there and then, until you were in a verge of tears, unable to think straight as you moaned his name all over again like some sort of a mantra, dragging the both of you into eternal hell.

And to hell with him it is.

#jeno x reader #nct jeno smut #jeno smut #jeno x you #nct dream smut #nct smut #kpop smut #lee jeno smut #one shot smut #killshotbabe

847 notes · View notes

229zmi · 9 months

Text

ACADEMIC WEAPON

PAIRING: Bokuto Kōtarō/Reader

CONTENT: 4+1 things (4 times bokuto failed a quiz + the 1 time he passed), reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, reader tutors bokuto, bokuto requests the reader to shut the window on his head at one point, overuse of silly metaphors and similes #Sorry

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

(I.)

Bokuto was many things, but an academic weapon was certainly not one of them. Perhaps, he thought, an academic victim would be more fitting.

After all, marked by a large 7/100 circled in red pen for his surrounding deskmates to see (Thanks a lot, Mrs. Ishida!, he sulked), things were looking bleak for him. It was only a few days into the new term, yet he had already failed his first quiz; and honestly, he wasn’t sure if Akaashi’s biweekly tutoring sessions would be enough to pull him through the rest of the school year with a passing grade, especially with the volleyball summer camp coming up — it was all he could think about as of lately.

He needed a plan. Desperately.

“Desperately?”

Bokuto jolted in his seat. Ah, he must’ve let his internal monologue slip out again. That tended to happen a lot whenever he got too carried away in his pondering— got too in his head about something. Pouting for no particular reason, he hastened to answer Akaashi’s question with a nod before an idea suddenly materialised in his brain.

“Change your tutoring sessions to be weekly! Pretty please?” he added somewhat sheepishly, twiddling his fingers for the effect of what was supposed to be humbleness.

“Weekly?” Akaashi stared at him with a slow blink, taking a bite of his apple. He seemed to be thinking about it, which kindled a small flame of hope within Bokuto.

“Yeah! Or— or how about twice a week? Three times a week? Four—“

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for that,” he cut in with a dead expression, but at least his tone sounded sort of apologetic. But it was true: he was in the volleyball club and the literature club at school, and being a part of two clubs did take a considerable chunk of what would’ve been free time after school, hence why his tutoring sessions were scheduled so sparsely.

His eyes lingered on Bokuto’s hair, which was beginning to look deflated, and he was sure his best friend was about to enter one of his moods if he didn’t find some way to cheer him up.

“Bokuto-san,” he started, pausing for a moment to think again, “I know someone from literature club who might be willing to tutor you.”

Bokuto lifted the side of his head from off the table. A newfound hope miraculously found him and bled through his expression as he smiled and propelled himself closer to the black-haired boy as if he was listening in on some juicy yet confidential gossip, hitting the palms of his hands against the table with an embarrassingly loud slap that rang throughout the classroom.

“Really?!”

Akaashi nodded. “[L/n] [Y/n] from class 3-6 is one of the smartest people I know, and I heard they’ve been looking to make some money so—“

“I gotta go,” Bokuto quickly said. Watching him rush out the classroom, Akaashi had a feeling it wasn’t to the bathroom.

(i.)

Bokuto was many things. Shameless was one of them.

“I am looking for [Y/n]!”

Heads turned toward him, including yours, although your reaction was paired with creased eyebrows and a warmth in your face that felt a lot like embarrassment. You weren’t sure who he was to be shouting out your name like that in front of everyone, but whoever he was, you were livid. Even more so after hearing your classmates whisper among themselves, questioning if that strong-looking, handsome guy was your boyfriend and adding on that you didn’t seem like type to date.

“Is there a [Y/n] in this class?” No one spoke up, so he stepped back outside the classroom for a moment, checking the sign above the door to make sure this was the right class. Class 3-6, it read. He frowned. Maybe you had decided to spend your lunch period elsewhere.

Before he started to walk back to his classroom so he could complain to Akaashi about this unfortunate outcome, however, he felt a sharp yank against the collar of his shirt, pulling him backward and then up against the wall. He blinked, and a humourless face came into vision. Unsure of where to look, he settled for staring hard at the space in between the face’s furrowed eyebrows, wondering if this stranger was about to ask for his lunchbox or something like the bullies in stereotypical American high school movies.

“Name,” you demanded. Stunned by how you were acting like some kind of military drill sergeant, Bokuto could only keep staring. Eventually, he noticed the name tag on your blazer— [L/n] [Y/n], class 3-6!

He smiled. Just the person he was looking for.

You were growing impatient. Why was he smiling? Did he find your embarrassment funny? Tensely, you repeated, “What’s your name? Hellooo?”

“Bokuto Kōtarō, a friend of Akaashi Keiji!” he blurted out. “You know him, right? Black hair, blue eyes—“

“I know who that is.”

“Great! I have a favour to ask you.”

Awkwardly, he gestured for you to back up. You did so, albeit eyeing him sceptically as he proceeded to bow down, low enough to the point where the tips of his hair met the tiled floor. It was just your luck that a few of your classmates decided to leave the classroom at this moment, stopping when they noticed the scene before shuffling away. You heard them giggling to themselves yet again, probably ecstatic at having found another topic to gossip about.

“Get up, what the hell are you doing.” Gripping onto his broad shoulders, you frantically tried pulling him up to a normal standing position before any other witnesses could walk in on you and add on to your humiliation, but he didn’t budge.

“Hold on— please tutor me!”

“That wasn’t asking me a favour. Now, stand. Up.”

“I’m failing most of my classes, and the ones that I’m not, I’m barely passing by like a couple points! I’ll pay you and everything, just please— I really need someone to tutor me, and Akaashi said you were super duper smart and nice and cool and everything!”

“Get up. Please.” You couldn’t help sounding desperate by this point. “People are staring.”

Much to your annoyance, your words went through one of Bokuto’s ears and out the other, as if there was nothing in between.

“Can you tutor me? Please?”

“Alright, fine. But only if you stop bowing down to me.” You sighed and then stuck your hand out, holding your phone. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the dates and times I’ll be available.”

He shot right up and visibly brightened, his hair sticking up even more than before, like he’d just stuck a fork into an electrical outlet. You weren’t sure how that was logically possible, but whatever. “Of course! Here.”

After letting him type in his number, you added it as a contact.

“What’s your name again?” you asked.

“Bokuto Kōtarō.”

“Spell it for me.”

“Okay! B as in Bokuto. O as in Okuto. K as in Kuto…“

You shut your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose.

(II.)

bok:

hey……………..

ahaha

[image]

The image showed Bokuto’s most recent calculus quiz, tear-stained and appearing as if it was crumpled up but then flattened back out out of guilt. A red 7/100 was marked at the top.

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

i am available after school tomorrow

we can meet up at the library if that’s ok

bok:

YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!!! thanks [y/n] :p

(ii.)

Bokuto was certain now as he stared aimlessly out the window that the universe was against him in some way and that time had purposely slowed down just to spite him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for your help — he couldn’t be more appreciative of the fact that you were taking the time out of your day to tutor him despite the two of you being strangers until recently — but after just an hour and a half of going over notes and countless practice worksheets, he was ready to stop, drop, and roll into bed.

Even Akaashi, as monotonous as he was, wasn’t this bad during tutoring. Plus, his sessions were biweekly, whereas and Bokuto had agreed on twice a week: Wednesdays and Fridays. This was only the third tutoring session with you.

“Hey,” your voice cut through his thoughts, and with a start, he realised you’d finally returned from your brief excursion to the restroom, “did you finish the homework?”

Like a giraffe or a particularly nosy next-door neighbour, you craned your neck over the table that separated you and the boy with the two-toned hair. With the backs of his ears stained vermillion, Bokuto immediately slammed his folded arms onto the table, shielding the contents of the paper from your line of sight.

“Yes,” he said stiffly. “I am— I did finish. The homework.”

Bokuto was many things. A good liar was not one of them.

You blinked, dumbfounded. “The fuck was that for?”

He roleplayed confusion by inclining his head to the side. His words came out light and airy, sounding as though he’d just sucked in helium. “What ever do you mean?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Perchance.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, no I don’t! I’ve got no clue what you’re saying.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as your eyes flitted between his mock-innocent expression and the worksheet peeking out from underneath his toned forearms, before lunging forward and grabbing onto the piece of paper when he least expected it.

However, Bokuto was a little quicker. With fast reflexes, he pressed down on the paper even more, now using more of his body weight to keep you from taking it away from him. You were suddenly reminded that the guy in front of you was not just some clown who was very bad at both integrals and remembering to bring a pencil, but a better-than-average athlete at the very least.

“The element of surprise,” he stated through a tight-lipped smile, “you’re good at that.”

“Let go,” you commanded, still trying to pry it from his arms.

“Why?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, I need to see it so I can check your answers and see how much progress you’ve made.” You paused for a moment. “And also ‘cause I don’t believe you. You were only on question two when I left, there’s no way you’re done.”

Bokuto gasped with a dramatic drop of his jaw. “After all we’ve been through?!”

He may as well have sounded an airhorn into a microphone, then proceeded to throw the microphone out a window. You rushed to shush him, placing an index finger on your lips with a look of disapproval across your features. “Quiet down. This is a library.”

He stuck his tongue out. “Bossy-pants.”

Your face soured like a pair of wet socks. What kind of playground insult was that?

“I am not,” you told him. “That was a perfectly reasonable request, not just for me but also for the other people around you, who would probably appreciate some peace and quiet around here.”

He laughed in your face. You swore you were going to pop a blood vessel at this rate.

“Wow, you would make a great librarian. Ever thought about working here?” Teasingly, he kicked your foot from under the table.

“Don’t do that.” You physically recoiled at the smug grin that settled on his face. Not knowing how else to retaliate, you settled for a simple, “Shut up,” which really wasn’t any better, but once more, you’d realised that too late after the words fully left your mouth.

“I didn’t say anything!” Bokuto protested.

“I don’t care. Now, let go of the paper.”

“Only if you say pretty please.” He tilted his chin up defiantly in a way that, although perhaps unintentional for the most part, effectively grated on your nerves. You glowered at him, but before you could say anything else, you first heard a faint rip, and after one more particularly harsh tug, you found yourself flung backwards into your chair all of a sudden, which then tipped over and toppled onto the ground along with you.

You winced, feeling the immediate stinging pain subside to a dull ache in your back.

“Oh,” Bokuto said, before tentatively creeping over to you. All humour in his voice and face vanished without a trace. “You okay?”

Your face felt hot, though you weren’t sure if it was from frustration or embarrassment or a secret third thing as you stared up at his hand that was outstretched to you. Ignoring it, you pushed yourself up and then stared down at the paper in your hand— or rather, the half that was still there. The other half laid on the table. Crumpled up.

You sucked in a huge breath of air. Of course, only two out of ten problems on the homework assignment was done, and the rest were left blank. You’d be less upset if he had at least tried. Was he even taking this seriously?

“I think we are done for today.”

(III.)

“Oh, he hates me for sure. I just know it.”

Akaashi couldn’t see the point of this conversation.

“You’re telling me this because…?”

With restrained effort, you whacked the back of his head with a rolled up notebook, yet he barely even appeared fazed, like this was a normal occurrence in your friendship. (It was.)

“‘Cause you’re, like, his best friend in the whole wide world, and I need your advice, dingus,” you complained. “He even introduced himself as Bokuto, a friend of Akaashi Keiji.”

“Of course he did,” Akaashi muttered, somewhat amused by your poorly done impression of his best friend’s voice. He placed a hand on his chin to contemplate. “If you really want to know what I think about you and him, I don’t believe last Friday was as horrible as you think it was. He called me and told me all about it on his way home.”

Suddenly, you grabbed him by the shoulders. Taken aback, he stared up at you with the typical unsettling, blue-eyed gaze, just a little more wide-eyed than usual.

“What did he say?” This was serious business — you had to know.

“Nothing too bad,” he quickly answered, patting your arm as if you were some wild animal to be tamed. “Said you were kind of boring and went through some of the topics too fast, but he appreciated your efforts. He also felt bad for lying to you and for calling you bossy, even though you were— his words, not mine.”

“I am not bossy,” you said haughtily.

Akaashi rolled his eyes, then smiled. “That’s some defense you got there.”

“No, really. He’s totally being dramatic!”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that. Or, even better, you talk to him yourself.”

“No way!” You buried your face into your hands.

“I already told you, Bokuto doesn’t hate you at all. Just… try being a little more understanding next time you see him.” He motioned his hands vaguely, trying to further explain his point. “Nicer, you know? But” — you sensed that what came next would be a big but — “still be yourself. Don’t want you frying your brain over trying to act like someone else. Okay?”

You dismissed his advice with a wave of your hand. Now he sounded too much like a school counsellor for your liking. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Just as the teacher walked in and Akaashi left to return to his classroom, your phone pinged. You glanced down to see what it was.

No surprise it was a text from Bokuto.

bok:

[image]

failed my calc quiz :(( again :(((

There was a circled 3/100 in red ink in the upper right corner of the paper.

Unable to contain a scoff of disbelief, you weren’t even sure how it was possible. Nonetheless, you began to type out a response, something along the lines of a dry ‘ok’ followed by a specific time for you to meet up, but then Akaashi’s wise words of wisdom rang through your mind.

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

does 5pm this wednesday work for u?! ^-^

Typing that almost physically hurt you, but you persisted regardless like the brave soldier you were.

bok:

??? YEAHHH

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

alright!!!! see u then!!!! :))))

[bok liked your message.]

(iii.)

There was something off about you. Bokuto could tell, though he couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

He thought maybe it was the stress of the upcoming volleyball summer camp that was making him see things he wasn’t actually seeing. Or maybe you had changed up your appearance a bit today. But as he observed you while you were explaining a homework problem he was particularly stuck on, you looked the same. Still you, except… brighter? You looked like you were in a better mood today and, actually, this past week now that he thought about it, recalling your texts.

You were nicer, that’s what it was. Or it was more that you seemed more engaged in today’s tutoring session than you had in all three of the previous ones. From the start, you’d sat down next to him, instead of across from him on the opposite side of the table. You went through each topic much more thoroughly, refusing to move on until he fully understood the material, which you made sure of by asking him questions every now and then. And, he swore, you were even smiling a little whenever he got an answer correct on his own.

It was almost uncanny, he mused to himself.

“What is?”

He snapped back to reality. “Huh?”

“You said something was ‘almost uncanny,’” you told him, eyeing him strangely.

Shit, he had spoken his internal monologue out loud yet again. And he’d been staring at you like a mindless animal for an exceedingly long time now without realising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Okay.”

Shaking his head at himself, he slouched over the table in an attempt to focus on his homework. After a beat, he scribbled something down, then pursed his lips as he slid his paper over to you, indicating to you that there was one thing he was either stuck on or unsure about. “Is this right?”

Wordlessly, you glanced down at his answer, and after scanning through his work to make sure it wasn’t a thing of luck, you nodded. Bokuto fist-pumped the air, although his ecstasy wasn’t just because he had gotten the answer right yet again (he was currently on a streak of six-in-a-row— the highest yet!). Rather, he found himself looking to you in the corner of his eye with hopes to catch your reaction, and there it was again: both outer edges of your mouth curled to form what he could confidently say was a smile. A small one, but it was there nevertheless.

Then, you did something else, another thing he wasn’t expecting at all: you began to grovel to him for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry for being kind of mean to you,” you mumbled.

Okay. Maybe, that was an exaggeration (a really, really extreme one). But the effect it had on him was still as explosive as if you actually were grovelling at his feet for forgiveness.

“WHAAAAT?”

A scowl made its way to your face for the first time today. “Can you not act so surprised?”

“It’s not acting if I really am surprised,” he said with a defensive tone, placing a hand on his chest. “Plus, I’d never lie to you like that… except maybe that one time. Sorry.”

“I don’t think you need to apologise for that. You weren’t very convincing anyway.”

“What do you mean? I totally had you fooled!”

“You did not.”

“I did!” Somewhere else in the library, the librarian shushed the both of you, sending weak glares in your direction. Mindful of their warning, Bokuto quieted to a stage-whisper. “If that paper hadn’t ripped, you would’ve never found out the truth.”

“Ha! In your dreams, yeah.” You rolled your eyes before begrudgingly admitting, “But while we’re still on the topic of apologies, I guess I am also sorry for being kind of overbearing. I will work on that bad habit in the future.”

“Kind of?” he echoed. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You shot him a glare, and he put his hands up in mock-defense.

“Hey, hey, hey, I was just asking. I forgive you and all. But for the record,” Bokuto grinned, sharp canines poking out a bit, “I like that about you anyways.”

(IV.)

bokuto:

FAILED AGAIN

BUT!!!!!!

[image]

46!!!!!! DOUBLE DIGITS!!!!!!

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

revolutionary

see u tomorrow

bokuto:

CAN’T WAIT :D

(iv.)

Bokuto was dreading this next exam. It was a big one, for sure, as it was the last opportunity he had to raise his currently failing grade up to passing standard before summer break, which was slowly yet surely inching its way toward the present. With the volleyball summer camp just a week and a half away, his odds weren’t looking very high, and he wasn’t sure if even yours and Akaashi’s combined tutoring efforts would be able to save him.

“I can’t do this.” He dropped his pencil on the table and groaned in frustration, leaning back in his chair with a dejected expression directed toward the ceiling. Nothing was making sense anymore. “Can you please open the window?”

Puzzled, you furrowed your eyebrows. “Why? Do you need some fresh air?”

“No, I’m gonna stick my big, stupid head out the window, and then you can do me a favour and close it.”

“Oh! Okay.”

Logically, you decided not to do that. Instead, you grabbed one of the soft-cover workbooks laid across the table, rolled it up as Bokuto watched you curiously, and—

Thwack!

Rubbing the back of his head, Bokuto sat up straight. If you placed his back and a ruler next to each other, you wouldn’t know the difference. “What’d you do that for?”

“Did that hurt?”

“Not really.” His gaze averted between you and the book and then you again and the book again, bewildered. “But what’d you do that for? Fun?”

“No, it was because you sound totally lame right now and it’s pissing me off. Get a fucking grip on yourself. You’re not stupid, so don’t say that you are. You’re gonna ace this test and you’re gonna ace whatever sports thing you got coming up.”

“Volleyball summer camp,” he said wistfully. There were stars sparkling in his eyes now, a stark contrast to his lifeless look seconds prior, leading you to believe that you’ll have a chance at becoming a motivational speaker or something of the like in the near future.

“Yeah, that. You— you can do this. You got this. Go you or whatever.” Yeah, scratch that option. Suddenly feeling awkward, you grimaced. Maybe it was time you just stop talking. “Never mind. Keep studying.”

“Okay.” He picked up the pencil but not before sparing you one last glance and blinking rapidly for a few seconds, wondering if he was seeing things when pink hearts started to hover around your face with a dream-like, white vignette and a romantic tune began flooding his ears. “Yeah, I think I am gonna ace this test.”

(V.)

“They whacked me with a book, Akaashi.”

Akaashi couldn’t see the point of this conversation. He tended to feel that way a lot, actually, but it was a phenomenon occurring more than usual as of lately, and he had a feeling it had something to do with two of his friends spending more time with each other over these past couple of weeks. Huh, he wondered why.

“Yeah, they do that,” he said, turning the page as his eyes glided over the words. This was like a kindergartener tattling to their teacher about something a classmate did to offend them, at least in the eyes of Akaashi. Certainly, he felt like an under-compensated, stressed-out adult at the moment.

“So how do you not fall in love every time?”

Akaashi froze. Was he hearing things right?

Before he could process his upperclassman’s words, however, a sense of déjà vu washed over him as Bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders all of a sudden, donning a serious look now.

“I’m going to ask you one thing. A favour as one of my best friends in the whole wide world.”

He shut the book he was reading and set it to the side, seeing how important this seemed to Bokuto. “Okay. What is it?”

“Don’t tell [Y/n] I passed my exam. They have to think that I failed.”

With an arch in one of his eyebrows, Akaashi attempted to not sound so shocked. “You passed your test?”

“I did. 72 out of 100!” A wide grin spread across Bokuto’s face.

“That’s great news,” Akaashi replied. “Why wouldn’t you want [Y/n] to know about that? Surely, they’d be happy for you.”

“Because. If they find out I did well on my test, then that means I won’t need their help anymore and I won’t get to spend time with them anymore. And I don’t want that to happen ‘cause I like spending time with them.”

Oh, jeez. “That’s not that how that works.”

“Okay, Mr. Smart Guy, tell me how it works then.”

“No.” Akaashi reopened his book as if to seem disinterested in the topic at hand, even though he actually was and he wasn’t really reading at all by this point. “Just ask them to hang out instead asking me to lie to their face on your behalf.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, I’m just. Well. I don’t know,” Bokuto finally admitted sheepishly, fiddling with the end of his sleeve as he pouted. After several moments of well-needed silence, he pondered out loud, “Should I text them?”

“Yes.”

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, Bokuto smiled. “You’re a great friend, Akaashi. Thanks for the advice!”

bokuto:

hey! let’s hang out this weekend!!!!

i meannnnnn at the library

at our usual time not the weekend ahahah

sorry

typo

that first text was a typo

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

you failed your test?

bokuto:

yYeahhhhhh

[[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor reacted ‘?’ to your message.]

(v.)

“You seem.” You observed his face suspiciously as you pulled out a notebook from your backpack. “Happy.”

“Aren’t I always happy?” For proof, he gave you the largest smile you’d ever seen in your life and leaned in close until your noses were touching. “See? This is my resting face like all the time.”

With how close he was, you settled on staring at a faint freckle above his left eyebrow, hoping that didn’t make you look cross-eyed. “Yeah, you’re just a bundle of joy. But I assumed you would be a little down considering you recently failed not just a quiz but a big exam. You won’t be able to go to that summer camp. Wasn’t that the whole point of me tutoring you?”

He shrugged, pulling himself away. “Life happens. Things happen. But I am a changed man, and I will no longer let such minister things disappoint me.”

“Minuscule things.”

“I said that. Mini-stool.”

You shook your head. Some things, you’d learned, were better to just leave as is.

But then there was a certain point where you couldn’t just not pester him about it. That point came after noticing he was answering all your questions right and breezing through the review sheets with ease. You couldn’t understand how he had failed his last exam when he was doing so well right now, same topics and everything.

A frown seeped into your expression as you stared at his work. “You… you already know everything. What if your teacher graded your test wrong? Or misplaced it with someone else’s. Because there’s no way you—”

“No, I don’t think so,” he interrupted you with a nervous laugh, sounding strained while looking everywhere but you. You side-eyed him upon being interrupted but continuing doing so as he wasn’t really acting like his usual self, as much as he wanted to insist otherwise. Weird. “I bombed that test. Trust me. Maybe you’re just my lucky charm or something.”

“What.”

He ignored your skepticism, seemingly too caught up in his head. “Maybe you should spend time with me more often so then maybe your luck can rub off on me. Maybe you should start coming to my volleyball practices. Maybe we should start hanging out over the weekends. Summer break is almost here, maybe we—“

“Bokuto Kōtarō.”

He glanced over at you — crossing your arms over your chest and clearly not believing him — and immediately threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Okay, I lied. I passed with a 72%.”

“I figured.”

“You knew all along?!”

“No. But I could tell you weren’t telling the truth ‘cause you’re a horrible liar,” you explained as he pouted. “It gives me second-hand embarrassment seeing you look all constipated like that whenever you try to lie. Please never do that again.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought you wouldn’t wanna tutor me anymore if I told you,” he admitted. “I like hanging out with you, even if it’s just to do schoolwork. I don’t want that to end since we never really talk outside of these tutoring sessions.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you said definitively.

“So cruel of you to say only that after I poured my heart out to you!”

Despite you hovering a hand over your mouth to conceal it, your laughter still saturated the air; Bokuto took in every ounce.

“I wouldn’t toss you to the curb like that,” you reassured him. “These tutoring sessions can continue until we graduate for all I care. And if you want, over summer break whenever you’re free, we can go to the movies or a café or wherever, really.”

He perked up at this. “Really?”

“Really.” You picked at the dead skin around your fingernails offhandedly. “And honestly? I like spending time with you, too, so it doesn’t matter what it is that we do. You are paying, though, if we go to a place that wants our money, since you promised to pay me back when you first asked me to tutor you.”

Bokuto was okay with that. Your presence alone was enough to make him feel over the moon like a billionaire anyway.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto x y/n #229ZMI

158 notes · View notes

artymcart · 1 year

Text

SUPTOBER 23 // DAY 4

NIMBUS

My name is Ja-

"You can't be serious? He's a kid! We can't push the kid into the Empty and let him blow up himself!!"

"Dean-"

"No! End of discussion!"

My name is Jack-

"I need you to drop the deal with Castiel."

"And I should listen to you why?"

"I can help you go back to sleep, I'll make it dark again together with The Darkness and Death. Endless silence, just drop the deal".

My name is Jack Kli-

"You have to be kidding me?! You trick me into the Empty and send the kid? How desperate are you folks?"

"There will be no more God."

"Ohhhh let's see how this goes."

My name is Jack Kline.

It's dark. I'm not afraid. I never was. A sacrifice for the greater good.

"I have no idea how to put him together Mikey, he's literally Everywhere! And we can't put him together without a soul!"

"He'll have a soul, trust me."

"That worked well last time.."

"Gabriel!"

"Yeah yeah, you don't have to use the big brother voice."

My name is Jack Winchester.

My mother is Kelly Kline. My father is Castiel. I have a soul. I want to go back.

Please, let me get back to them.

"Patience kiddo, you're still stuck in the Nimbus. You'll hurt yourself when you rush things."

My name is Jack Winchester.

And I want to go back, NOW.

"NO NO NO! Don't slip away! Jack! DAMNIT! MICHAEL!"

///

His landing was hard, broken bones in his body, everything was too loud, the world was dark. He wanted to scream but nothing came out his mouth but the high pitched scream of his true form.

And then he felt light and the world came back to him, warm hands were touching his face, the familiar warmth of Castiels grace filled him. Blue. He blinked, once, twice. His ears were ringing but sound came back and he cried tears and tears of joy to be back and his father hugged him tight.

"Welcome home, son."

ENDVERSE AU Masterpost

#supernatural #suptober23 #day 4 #jack kline #castiel

268 notes · View notes

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

Text

part two to this random thing!

pairing: steddie | word count: 3,651 | rated: E! this is Explicit! | now on AO3!

Robin, bless her heart, lets him leave an hour early.

“Okay, I can’t listen to another longing sigh, just go. I’ll cover until Ryan and Keith come in for the closing.”

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice.

He heads home immediately, starts making a dinner he’s not even sure Eddie’s gonna want to eat before he’s even taken his vest off.

Would he want to eat something? He did kinda reject the ‘date’ part of his offer just before he left, said jokingly as it was.

It’s fine though, if Eddie just wants to get to the fun part of the evening. Again, he hadn’t quite agreed to the ‘for real’ part, so Steve would take what he could get. Even if that was just for one night.

Or multiple, he could be casual..

Or at least, he could pretend to be cool with casual.

He spent so long agonizing over it that he just barely realizes it’s already 4:36.

“Shit!” Steve takes the pan of fettuccine off the stove and hauls ass upstairs for the fastest, most thorough shower he can muster.

He avoids getting his hair wet, scrubbing the rest of himself nearly raw. Starts toweling off at 4:50, is pulling on a comfy pair of jeans and plain tee at 4:52, is downstairs plating the alfredo at 4:53, and is sweating from the hot shower still at 4:58 when Eddie knocks on the door.

“You’re early,” Steve accuses, opening the door wide.

“You’re astute.” Eddie grins back, stepping in and to the side to take off his sneakers. He’s changed since he was at Family Video, a fact that makes Steve’s stomach swoop. He also prepared for this. Duh, why wouldn’t he have?

“You changed.”

“So’ve you, big boy, that a problem?” Eddie smirks, standing straight and backing Steve towards the stairs behind him.

“No, of course not..” He’s cut off by Eddie’s lips on his, the soft, warm feeling of them sends all other thoughts in his brain elsewhere.

“Upstairs?”

“Lead the way, Stevie, darling”

Steve immediately swivels around and drags Eddie by the wrist up the stairs, dinner forgotten.

He gets to his door and swings Eddie through it first, following close behind and shutting it behind him.

Back to the door, Steve takes in the man in front of him, handsome, amazing, beautiful..

“You’re not too bad yourself, pretty boy.”

“So which is it first, Eddie,” Steve asks while stalking forward, much to Eddie’s delight, “Suck you down, eat you out, or fuck you into next week?”

Eddie backs up to the bed, sitting down as soon as the backs of his knees hit the corner. “I believe I was promised Tuesday, not just next week,”

Steve steps into the space between Eddie’s knees, “Oh right, my mistake,” He bends down slightly, and lifts the other man’s legs, throwing/shoving him backward towards the headboard, and follows him shortly after.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie breathes out when he lands against the pillows.

“What? You okay?” Steve backs away quickly, looking over the man below him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, that was just one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me, maybe the hottest thing.”

Steve blinks down at him once, then grins, “The hottest thing that’s happened to you so far.”

“You’re right, maybe you should get on with those other things then.”

Again, he doesn’t need to be told twice.

He slots himself between Eddie’s legs and folds himself down over top of the other man, locking their lips together while Eddie’s legs and hands lock themselves around his waist and into his hair, respectively.

He presses forward and down with his hips, pulling a perfect, breathy moan from Eddie’s throat.

Oh, good idea.

Steve kisses down across the corner of Eddie’s mouth to his jaw, the underside of his jaw, his neck, sucking lightly as he goes.

He hears a whispered, “Don’t be shy, sweetheart, let them know who I belong to,” and with a moan of his own, starts to suck bruise after bruise into the long, soft column of Eddie’s neck.

The “Mine.” comes out of him on instinct, making him freeze.

The responding “Yours, sweetheart, all yours.” melts him again, pressing his hips and a couple more kisses into the beautiful thing beneath him before pulling back.

Eddie (astounding, perfect Eddie), is heaving breaths below him. His eyes blown even darker, and his now sun-kissed skin flushed pinker than he’s ever seen it.

“Beautiful.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh (‘So beautiful’, he thinks), “I bet you say that to all the ladies.” then pulls him back down again.

Lips and tongue preoccupied once again, Steve lets his hands wander.

Well, his hand. The right one. The left is hooked under Eddie’s right shoulder at the moment, holding him up.

He starts way back at Eddie’s left knee, pressing his palm and fingers under and down his thigh, around his hip, and up his side, over his chest…

It’s there that he gets a sharper reaction, a higher-pitched whine in the back of Eddie’s throat.

“I didn’t think there was any feeling there anymore.” he laughs, pressing his nose and forehead to Steve’s.

Oh yeah, there’s a significant lack of nipple on this side.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Steve asks, moving that hand away and down to his hip instead.

“No, no, just feels like you’re barely touching it. Like you’re teasing me.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Which really does it for me if you can believe that.”

“I can,” Steve agrees with a smile of his own, then moves back up to the scar, this time under Eddie’s shirt.

He rests his thumb where he can feel (guess?) where the missing little appendage should be, and curves the rest of his hand around bony ribcage.

“This okay?”

“Mmph.” Eddie says into his lips, since he’s decided he wants to sit up but also not remove his mouth from Steve’s as he does so.

Steve takes the hint and sits back onto his heels, his lips only leave Eddie’s for a moment when Eddie pulls his shirt over his head.

He does, and their lips meet one more time before Eddie lays back and says “I want your mouth on me.”

Somehow, Steve’s even harder than should be possible at those six words.

He dives down hungrily, dragging still spit-slick lips over the dark smattering of a happy trail, over heaving diaphragm, and up to the one nipple Eddie still possesses, his thumb going back to the missing one immediately.

He breathes open-mouthed over the sensitive skin there, letting his tongue get the first taste, the first reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie’s chest immediately pushes upward, chasing the feeling. “Oh fuck you,”

“Maybe next time, sweet thing.” Steve says, then clamps his lips around the sensitive little nub. Sucking lightly and flicking just the tip of his tongue over it again and again and again.

Eddie’s breathy moans fill the air around them and when Steve finally lets up, Eddie can take a solid deep breath. “Holy shit.”

“You alright, Eds?”

“‘You alright, Eds?’” he mocks back with an eye roll, “He says, as if I’ve never been this hard in my life.”

“Maybe someone should do something about that.” Steve’s still lightly rubbing over the scar tissue on Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah, someone named Steve Harrington.”

Steve stops his ministrations, sitting up fully again and looking around his plaid nightmare of a room like he’s looking for someone.

“Oh..Oh! That’s my name!” He says, finally pointing at himself and grinning down at a still red Eddie. “Yeah, I can do that.”

His hands start popping open the buttons of Eddie’s jeans.

“Yeah, I would hope so, big guy.” He chuckles lightly, “You’re so ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous are these pants, why are there so many buttons??” He’s gotten to button number four, and yeah, there’s all buttons instead of a button and zipper, but like…why?

Eddie just laughs at him. “Sorry, handsome, these were the only clean pair I had left,” he lifts his hips for Steve to shimmy the denim off his hips when the last button finally comes undone, “They’re a pair they gave me on the farm. Can’t work in skinny jeans very well, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” Steve says, throwing the offending jeans behind him. The buttons clack loudly against his closet door. “What I do know is that I need these,” he pauses to run his palms over the wiry hair on two absolutely delicious thighs, “as earmuffs. Immediately.”

“Earmuffs? Wha–Ohhhh..” Eddie acknowledges low and long as Steve gets situated on his stomach between his legs. “Don’t you need to take these off too, sweetheart?”

Steve looks up at him, offended for making him break his concentration on Eddie’s crotch, but acquiesces, pushing Eddie’s legs up to get the elastic off over his ass and down his legs, settling back in on his stomach at the same time Eddie’s thighs relax over Steve’s shoulders (and ears).

Steve noses along the seam of thigh and crotch, and it takes Eddie until he’s basically up at his stomach again, to realize that he’s being kissed.

As soon as he does, however, he can’t do or say anything about it because at that same moment, his dick is swallowed up into Steve’s perfect mouth.

“Ohh Steve holy shit.”

Steve’s throat rumbles around him in response and that only makes him moan again.

“Oh fuck yeah, sweetheart, just like that. Your mouth is so perfect,” Eddie starts to babble as Steve begins to move up and down his length. “You’re so perfect, Steve, holy fuck, I–ohhh–yeah, yeah, keep going, darling.”

Steve picks up the pace, holding a steady rhythm and rumbling around him in response to each whimper or moan.

When he pulls off completely, Eddie looks down at him, his neck only a little sore from the way he’s had it wrenched back in pleasure, and nearly shoots off from the sight.

Steve’s eyes are on him, his tongue swathing over the underside of his dick, the hair on either side of his head is plastered flat, his face a beautiful shade of pink.

“What a pretty picture you are,” He sits up slightly, leaning on an elbow to run his thumb down the side of Steve’s flushed hot cheek. “What I would give to see you like this every goddamn day of my life.”

“You can, Eddie. I’m yours.” Steve says, like it’s nothing, then pushes his legs wide and up just a little higher to..

“F-fuck‘ng hell Steve—holy nghf—“

Steve’s tongue circles and dips into that ring of muscle over and over and over again, leaving Eddie a panting mess. The moans coming from Steve making every swirl and dip into him that much better. Just knowing he’s enjoying this as much as Eddie is…

“Steve, Steve!” Eddie looks down and squeezes his legs around Steve’s head minutely, trying to get his attention. Steve only moans louder, his eyes rolling back in his head at the movement.

“Steve, sunshine, I’m serious,” he huffs out a laugh, “Come up here, you’re gonna make me come before you’re even naked.”

Steve grumbles at him, but complies, climbing back up onto the bed and kneeling at the foot. He pulls his shirt off in one quick motion and uses it to wipe his face off.

“Hello darling,” Eddie greets as Steve lays back down between his legs. There’s a hard seam at the front of his jeans that presses awkwardly on the underside of his head, but he ignores it, something to help take him down from the edge.

“Hi,” Steve grins, and Eddie can’t help but pull him down for a kiss.

He nudges Steve to flip over, which he does after a fleeting moment of confusion.

“My turn, handsome.”

The single button and well-worn zipper of Steve’s jean’s definitely come apart much easier than his own button-fly did, “See how easy that was? You should for sure wear regular pants next time.”

Eddie smirks up at him, lounging against the pillows, “That’s the second time you mentioned a ‘next time’, big boy.”

Steve’s face falls instantly. “Uh, y-yeah, I figured there would be a next time…will there not be?”

“No, no, hey, Steve baby,” Eddie climbs up Steve’s body to lay atop him, a mirror image of before, Steve’s warm hands coming up to rest on his back immediately. “I meant it earlier, when I said I was yours. I am, if you want me.”

Steve smiles softly, a hand leaves a cold patch on his back when it leaves to push a strand of hair back from his face. “I have since you pinned me to the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse.”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed before dissolving into peals of laughter. “Really Steve? That’s the moment you decided you wanted all this?” he gestures down his body incredulously.

Steve just continues to smile, no hint of embarrassment in his expression. “Okay, maybe it was before then; your whole bad boy schtick didn’t just have the girls swooning after you, ‘know.”

Another blank stare.

“Really? You have no idea what girls would say about you?”

“I don’t really strive to care what girls would say about me and—hang on, yeah I do, they’d say I’m a freak!”

“Yeah, but at least 70% of those were in the good way. Look, ask Robin, okay? From what she says, she was bombarded with questions about you after coming back from spring break. Band girls go insane for a ‘bad boy’.”

“Wow…who knew?” Eddie pauses, looking down at Steve, before getting up off the bed and gathering his clothes.

“Whoa…Eddie? What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed, duh, apparently I’ve got a whole band full of chicks to woo. Got any pointers, Steve-o?”

Steve snorts behind him, “You can’t go yet, I’m not done with you.”

“Oh yeah?” he picks up his boxers.

“Yeah, I have yet to fuck you into next Tuesday.”

Eddie drops his clothes unceremoniously and spins to face the bed once again.

Steve’s cocky grin melts away into flushed awe as soon as Eddie says: “Not before I ride you, you’re not.”

He goes to the nightstand first, telling Steve to “Lose the pants, big boy.” while gathering the lube and a size XL (Holy shit, really? I mean, he felt big back outside Family Video, but really??) condom.

There’s frantic shuffling and squeaking of springs, but by the time he turns, Steve’s flat on his back and…

“Oh, XL for sure.”

Eddie straddles Steve’s legs and drops the condom onto his chest.

“Hi baby,” He says, uncapping the lube and pouring it over Steve’s length.

He winces at the cold, but whispers “Hey, starlight.” in response.

Eddie can’t hold back the whimper that escapes his throat at that moment.

“Starlight?” Eddie manages, and starts to coat Steve’s cock with the lube.

“Yeah—unf, hah—yeah, you called me sunshine, and you’re—fuck—you’re like the night or whatever.”

He stops his hands’ movement so Steve can breathe. “I am the night? Are you saying I’m Batman?” Eddie gasps dramatically, “How’d you know??”

Steve laughs in return, “Dustin told me, obviously.”

“Damn that kid, he’s gonna get all the villains after me at this rate.”

“Shut up, asshole, I was trying to be sincere.”

“I know you were, sunshine, explain it to me?” He grabs ahold of Steve again, slowly pumping him.

“Oh fuck—Well, I figured if I was sunshine, and you’re basically my opposite right? And uh—uuhnn—I also thought if you were calling me that, it must be like, all the things about the sunshine that you also like about me, since you, you kn—kno—knowww——hate the sun.”

“That I do,” Eddie says, sounding just as breathless as Steve. “Keep going, sweetheart.” He opens the condom then, rolling it down and moves to straddle Steve’s hips, shifting back against the warm weight over and over, letting Steve run along the cleft of his ass.

“Ohhh yes—S—so I thought about the things I love about the night, even though I prefer daylight, and well…” he grabs hold of Eddie’s hips, holding him still against his own and looks him straight in the eye. “You are a clear summer night, Eddie. You are clear skies, a big bright full moon, perfectly glowing starlight.”

Steve’s hold on his hips shifts upward, lifting him above his length and gently pressing upwards.

“This okay?”

Eddie can only nod dumbly, the feeling of Steve pressing against him is nothing compared to the tightness in his chest at Steve’s words.

“Out loud, starlight,” He’s still only barely pressing against Eddie’s entrance.

“Fuck, yes, yes, it’s more than okay.” he manages to huff out, “I prepped before i came over here.”

Steve finally sinks into him then, well, rather, Eddie sinks down onto Steve and holy shit.

“Holy shit, I can feel you in my throat.”

“I’m not even all the way in yet, baby.” Steve responds, then shifts his heels into the mattress to press further.

He’s panting again. Panting and probably drooling, fuck, he feels so full.

Finally, Steve lowers his hips back down to the bed, seated fully inside the man above him.

“Take your time, darling, breathe. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

His words help; Eddie finds himself relaxing further onto Steve.

“You’ve ruined me, sunshine. Ruined.” More panting, "No one is ever going to live up to this.”

Steve chuckles from below him, and Eddie cracks his eyes open to look down. When did he even close them?

“Would it be bad to say that I’m glad?”

Eddie grins back, feels himself relax completely. “Probably; can’t have you getting a complex, now can we?”

Another chuckle, “Oh Eddie,” Steve hauls him down, his lips ghosting at his earlobe, “I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Then he starts to move.

Slow but hard, each thrust pitches Eddie forward, still bracketed in Steve’s arms. And with Every thrust, Steve pulls him back down away from the headboard infront of him and onto that fucking amazing dick.

Eddie knows he goes incoherent for a few minutes, he can’t even see since his eyes have been rolled back in his head since Steve started to move. Babbling and moaning and whining before he can get the words out.

“Wait, wait—Jesus H. Christ—Steve, hold on a second.”

Steve stops immediately, letting Eddie sit up.

“Eddie, you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, just hold on—oh fuck that’s even deeper now, okay.”

Steve waits while Eddie catches his breath again.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no! ‘Course not! I just—“ He pauses, and chuckles, face blushing in embarrassment this time, “I said I wanted to ride you, didn’t I?”

Steve’s worry melts away, “That’s right, you did say that, didn’t you? Well,” he puts his hands behind his head then, the nonchalant asshole, “Have at it, darling.”

That spurs Eddie on even more. He’s going to get those hands back on him in minutes.

From the clock on the nightstand, it takes two before Steve’s grasping onto his hips again and panting up at him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh Eddie..”

Eddie halts his movements. “Yes, Stevie dear?”

Steve honest to goodness growls in response and suddenly, Eddie is on his back under him.

“Holy shit..”

“You better hold on, Eddie darling.” is all the warning he gets before his legs are hiked up and Steve is nothing short of pistoning into him.

“Jesus—fuck! Yes, yes, yes, fuck yes, Steve, holy shit fuck meee~”

He dissolves into an unbroken stream of moans from that moment on, starting over with every “Eddie” that leaves Steve’s lips. Every grunt, every “Yeah,”, every “Fuck.”.

“St-Steve—HAH—Steve, I’m going to—“

“Yeah, yes—give it to me, c’mon…”

He paints both their stomachs with his release, and Steve follows soon after, collapsing atop him once he does.

They breathe heavily together for a few short minutes, Steve finally lifting himself up off Eddie with another “Hi.”

“Hi, sunshine.”

Steve smiles down at him and brushes a stray sweaty curl away from his forehead. “You in Tuesday, yet?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, “I think I made it to Wednesday, actually.”

—-

They shower together after Eddie can finally stand, and Eddie makes sure to taste Steve himself, despite how far down his throat he goes.

“Movie?” Steve asks once they’re both dressed.

“You read my mind, big boy,” Eddie grins, and leads the two of them down the stairs, “Can we order in some food too? I’m starv—“

“Oof—“ Steve runs right into Eddie’s back at the bottom of the staircase. “What’s wron–”

“You made dinner?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I forgot.” He rubs the back of his head nervously, “I didn’t know if you would've had time to eat or if you’d even want anything.”

Eddie finally looks back at him with those insanely beautiful doe eyes of his, then back to the pasta he can see on the little table at the front window, then back to Steve.

“You don’t have to eat it, promise.” Steve grins, “It’s probably all gross and rubbery now.”

“No way, I’m gonna eat the fuck outta this dinner,” Eddie says, running into the kitchen and scooping up both plates “I’ll show you how me and Wayne reheat pasta the right way.”

Steve watches him dump both plates back into the pan on the stove as he goes on about how to make sure the noodles don’t get rubbery and weird, and how long pasta can go before getting weird, and Steve pulls him in for a kiss mid-rant.

“What was that for, sunshine?” Eddie asks, with a smile like the stars.

‘I love you.’ Steve thinks.

“Just like you, I suppose.” he says with a shrug and a cheeky grin. “Starlight."

those who asked to be tagged for part 2!! @dangdirtydemons, @justforthedead89, @gothwifehotchner, @corrodedbisexual, @str4wb3rry-guy

plus those who seemed interested in the tags on the prev <3: @matchingbatbites, @vecnuthy, @grimmfitzz, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @yournowheregirl, @mysteddiebrainrot, @mightbeasleep, @emchant3d, @scoops-stevie, @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus, @quinnbower, @theheadlessphilosopher

#steddie #st #steve harrington #eddie munson #st ficlet #st fic #stranger things

305 notes · View notes