#i was stuck inside all weekend for the second week in a row. I want to walk the riverbeds and run through the grasses. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

garagebandvanfleet · 3 years

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Love Never Felt So Good

Pairing: Sam x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, swearing, choking, brief mentions of slapping, thigh riding, unprotected sex, Sammy is a bit of a switch

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You couldn’t spend Valentine’s Day with Sam, so you surprise him, and boy is he happy to see you.

Notes: Part four of my lil V-day series. Did anyone think I forgot about Sam? Well I didn’t, I just like to procrastinate. Romantic song that makes me think of Sam and all I listened to while writing this.

Your fingers impatiently tapped the steering wheel, mumbling your 100th what the fuck in the past hour. The traffic had been at a standstill for exactly 72 minutes, you know this because you’ve checked the clock on your dash every few seconds. The urge to punch yourself grew as none of the cars in front of you moved, cursing yourself for thinking it’d be easier to drive to the hotel the boys were staying at instead of flying.

You had wanted to surprise Sam before he had to leave for the venue, but at this point, you’d be lucky if you even made it in time to see the start of the show. Unfortunately, you and Sam hadn’t been able to spend Valentine’s Day together, he had a show in a different state and you had work. But it was now the weekend, and you made sure your schedule was free to spend time with Sam.

One good thing about being stuck in traffic was it gave you time to get around, reaching into your bag to pull out your makeup bag.

Twenty minutes later you threw your hands up in the air and did a little happy dance as the brake lights of the cars in front of you dimmed and the traffic began moving forward. You quickly texted Danny, letting him know you were on your way as you had been keeping him updated your entire journey. His response was quick, stating they were going on stage in 10 minutes but that a security guard would let you in the side door.

When you got to the venue, you quickly changed in your own car. Thankfully, everyone had made their way inside or else people would’ve witnessed you really struggling to get dressed in your backseat. The sound of your shoes against the pavement alerted the security guard outside the door.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, hi. How late am I?” The security guard held the door open, stepping aside to let you in.

“They just finished their first song, Danny said you didn’t want to watch the show from backstage, there’s a balcony where some family and friends are sat. Want me to show you the way?” You accepted his offer, thanking him as he lead you through the halls of the venue. It’s not that you didn’t love watching Sam perform from the side of the stage, but you still wanted to surprise him. He always scanned the room, looking at the faces in the crowd and checking who is backstage out of habit from all his shows you’ve attended. But you noticed he never looked past the first few rows, so you being in the balcony meant he wouldn’t see you until you wanted him to.

When you got to the balcony, you thanked him again and asked if he wouldn’t mention anything to Sam about you being here. He agreed with a nod before leaving. You greeted everyone, having to yell over the music to say your hellos before turning to the stage - eyes instantly locking on Sam’s form.

No matter how many times you saw Sam perform you found yourself just as mesmerized as the first time. The way he moved his whole body to the music, head bopping to the beat and lips forming a slightly puckered ‘o’. He was letting his hair grow out, refusing to tie it back because ‘that’s not very rock and roll,’ so he often had to run his fingers through it in an attempt to clear his vision.

You were enjoying the music, bass thrumming as you swayed your body to the beat and sang every word. Josh began his ‘this is the last song of the night speech’ as you sipped on your drink, weight shifting from foot to foot as the excitement of seeing Sam started to set in. You hadn’t seen him in a week, and while you’ve gone longer periods of time apart, you always missed him when he wasn’t home. Your eyes strayed from Sam, moving to finally look at the other three. When Josh met your eyes, he smiled widely and waved his hands back and forth. You waved your hands in front of you, trying to silently convey you didn’t want Sam to know you were here.

Unfortunately, he thought you were waving back and turned to his brother, pointing in your direction. You wanted to be annoyed, plans being spoiled so close to the finish, but the look on Sam’s face was worth it.

His eyes connected with yours, lighting up from both the stage lights and excitement from seeing you. The smile on his face was dazzling, bouncing on his toes, wanting nothing more than to run to you. You returned his smile, blowing him a kiss which he returned. Sam looked as if he had made up his mind on something, removing his bass and handing it to Josh who began yelling at his brother as he ran off stage. You looked back at a few of your friends, silently asking if they knew what was going on.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you up and spinning you around. “Hi angel.” Sam’s warm breath fanned the back of your neck, moving your hair off your shoulder to press a soft kiss to the skin. You turned so you were facing him, your boyfriend’s arms still wrapped around your waist.

“Hi there Sammy, fancy seeing you here.” He didn’t respond with words, instead, he moved his hands to your cheeks and used his grip to pull you into a rough kiss. Sam didn’t care others could see him - friends, family, and fans - he missed you too much to care about PDA.

He pulled his lips away from yours, just enough to mumble against your lips. “You’re a sneaky, sneaky lady do you know that?”

“Would’ve been even sneakier if Josh wasn’t Mr. Eagle Eyes.” You played with the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Well, I-” Sam was cut off by Jake’s voice, amplified by the microphone. “One more song Sammy, c’mon.” The youngest Kiszka turned to the stage and gave the boys a thumbs up before turning back to you.

“When the show is over-”

“Come backstage, I know the drill.” You gave him one last kiss before shooing him away to finish the show.

“Sam, where are you taking me?” You giggled as he dragged you down the sidewalk, your walk turning into a slight jog to keep up with his fast pace.

“You’ll see.” His cryptic words had you rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

“It’s 1 am, what’s even open besides bars.” You halted your steps, using your intertwined fingers to pull him back into you. “Plus I was kind of hoping we could go back to your room.” Your tone was soft, borderline innocent, as you ran your hands down his chest and abdomen.

“That’s part of the plan angel, don’t worry. But not till later. We didn’t get to spend Valentine’s Day together, and so before we get to the good part-” Sam smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I wanted to you on a little date.” He began your journey again, this time at a slower pace so you could walk side by side.

When he held the door of a small coffee shop open for you he smiled brightly, bending at the waist. “M’lady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You curtsied before entering the cafe, Sam following closely behind. “Don’t even think about getting a coffee, you’ll be wide awake for hours.”

He hummed, wrapping his arms around your midsection and pulling your back flush against his chest. “That’s the point.” He whispered, placing a kiss behind your ear.

“Not till later.” You repeated his words, earring a groan from Sam as you discretely rubbed your ass against his crotch.

“That’s enough from you.” His arms locked you in place, effectively stopping your movements.

The words died on your tongue as the barista called you both up to the counter. “Two green teas and a piece of that vegan chocolate fudge cake please.” Sam’s chin rested on your shoulder as he spoke. You turned your head to kiss his temple, leaning your head against his.

Sam went to hand the barista his card, but she dismissed him. “Y’all are too cute. Happy belated Valentine's Day.” The two of you smiled at her kind gesture, leaving a hefty tip in the tip jar while waiting for your order. You looked around as you waited, the cafe wasn’t too busy - mainly just college students cramming to get their homework assignments done.

Sam chose a table in the middle of the cafe, most of the ones in the corners were taken. “One piece of cake, two forks - how very romantic of you Sammy.”

“I was gonna get a milkshake instead but I figured that would make too much noise, and these college kids look like they’re working hard.”

“No milkshake? The romance is ruined.” You joked, taking a piece of cake on your fork and holding it in front of Sam’s face. He wrapped his lips around the fork, smiling softly at your sweet gesture. No sooner had you remained the fork from his mouth, cake securely on his tongue, Sam started laughing - a few small pieces of cake landing on the table. You used the fork to point at the crumbs. “That was hot.”

“Just give me 15 minutes!”

“Y/N, nooo.” Sam’s whine made you belly laugh, he was always so needy. From the moment the door to Sam’s hotel room shut, his lips were on yours. At first, it was sweet, enjoying each other’s company and expressing how much you two missed each other. But as soon as his hands traveled down to squeeze your ass, you knew you had to stop him. You had been traveling all day and could feel some dried sweat on your lower back from dancing while at the show, so freshening up was a must.

“10 minutes, that’s all you get then I’m coming in there.” Finger pointed at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Oh, I’m so scared.” You tried to be quick, taking a brief body shower and brushing your teeth all in 5 minutes. But you lost progress while trying to get the lingerie set on. It was a simple set, black lace that was all but see-through on the cups of the bra and the front of the panties. What added a little bit of spice - and would have Sam’s cock hardening in seconds - was the black garter belt that traveled down, hooking onto the sheer black thigh-high stockings and keeping them from slipping down your skin.

Your skin was still slightly damp, causing the damn straps of the bra to twist and the garter belt to lay oddly. Another two minutes and everything was in place, it sort of felt pointless now knowing Sam would ruin all your hard work. You were touching up your makeup when the bathroom door flew open, causing you to shriek in surprise.

“Time’s up.” A shirtless Sam stood in the doorway, now making his way to you and lifting you up by your thighs to bring you towards the bed. “You-” he started before throwing you onto the bed, “look absolutely sinful.” He started down as he removed his jeans and boxers slowly, eyes never leaving your body.

You watched as Sam’s chest rose and fell, looking down to see his hard cock against his stomach. “C’mere.” You mumbled, spreading your legs so Sam could move in between them. As soon as his lips were on yours you let out a sigh through your nose.

“Who’d you get all dressed up for angel?” His lips traveled down your neck, lips ghosting over your pulse point. Sam’s fingertips danced down your sides, causing your body to twitch at the ticklish touch. “You knew it’s only for you Sammy. Don’t know why you even ask.”

“Eh, I just like to hear you say it.” He giggled quietly before moving his mouth down to graze over your nipples through the thin fabric. Your back arched off the mattress as a high-pitched whine left your mouth. Sam’s thumb ran over your clothed slit, feeling your arousal soaked through your panties. “After all this time you still get so wet for me.”

“Well y’know, I try.” The two of you laughed quietly, his forehead resting on your shaking chest.

“For someone who gets turned on by dirty talk, you sure do have a way of ruining it.”

“Don’t act like you don’t do the same thing.”

“Hey, I never said I didn’t. But in all seriousness, you’re riding my thigh.” Before you could make a comment, he flipped your body so that his back was now against the mattress and you were straddling his waist. He raised his hand to your jaw, placing a light smack on your cheek before grabbing your face. “You know what to do.”

You nipped at his palm before situation yourself over his right thigh. You began moving your hips slowly, smiling at the way your panties caught your clit on the pullback. Sam’s mood was evident, blame it on being the youngest sibling. So when the plan was for you to be on top, he held onto that control until the very last second.

That’s why when his hands grabbed your hips, quickening your pace, you allowed it. He removed his right hand from your hips to run over the material of the stockings. “These were a good choice.” His voice was breathless even though you hadn’t touched him yet.

“Thought you’d like them.” Your words breathed out into the open air, head tilting back as Sam’s hand came down on your ass.

“You’re gonna cum on my thigh like a good girl, and then you’re going to show me how much you missed me.” Sam didn’t like that your only response was a moan, one hand leaving another smack to your ass while the other wrapped around your throat. “Does that sound like a plan, angel?”

“Yes, sorry Sammy. Wanna ride you till you cum in me.” This was your way of slowly starting to take control. Sam’s eyelids fluttered, lashes tickling his cheek as he groaned at your words.

“No need to be sorry baby, just want you to cum for me. But need you to be quiet about it, Danny’s room is right next door.” His words brought you closer to the edge, nails scratching at his chest, leaving red marks down his smooth skin. With Sam’s hand on your ass guiding your movements, you felt the heat spread throughout your body as you came with a silent scream.

You hadn’t even fully come down from your high before Sam was rolling you off of him to remove your panties. He ran two fingers through your folds, collecting some of your wetness to bring to his mouth and taste you. Sam brought you back on top of him before bringing you down for a bruising kiss that was more tongue than anything.

“You’ve had your fun Sammy, my turn.” When Sam stopped being vocal that was when you knew he was done being in charge. “Does that sound like a plan?” You repeated his earlier words, grabbing his jaw to make him look into your eyes.

“Yes baby, just please sit on my cock.” His tone was desperate as he bucked his hips, attempting to gain some sort of friction.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” The process was slow, lifting your hips and sinking down on him almost in slow motion. Sam’s fingers twitched against your hips, wanting to slam you down on him, but he resisted knowing the consequences would be worse. Seeing his eyes screwed shut and his teeth clenched, you decided to be nice - sinking down on him fully.

You moved your hand from his jaw to his throat, squeezing at the sides as you began to move your hips at a quick pace. “Fuck.” He drawled out, voice gravely and slurred. “Baby, you ride me so well. Always make me feel so good.” You smiled at his praise, tilting your head to the side out of pleasure.

“Yeah? You like when I ride you, baby? Make you a little Pillow Princess.” The movement of your hips slowed, turning into a grind. He hated when you called him that, which is why you only said it when you were in complete control.

The whimpers he let out were small as his head pushed back into the pillow. “Don’t call me that.” Voice weak, but able to get the words out. You ceased all movements then, hips halting and hand loosening around his throat, as you raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

“What did you just say?” Your tone was incredulous, your mouth slightly open in shock.

“I’m sorry angel, I won’t do it again. I promise. Call me whatever you want, just move.” You gave him another look before he tacked on a quiet “please.”

“Good boy.” You began moving your hips again, the only goal in mind being Sam cumming in you. As his whines grew louder, your second orgasm began building quicker and quicker.

“Baby, I can feel you clenching around me. Want you to cum all over my cock.” The desperation in his tone was thick and you decided now was a good time to resume restricting his airway.

“Want you to cum in me first Sammy. Can you do that for me?” He nodded his head the best he could with your grip on his throat as his jaw went slack. Despite what some might believe, Sam was vocal in bed, so when you felt his cock twitch in you - indicating he was about to cum - your hand around his throat moved to cover his mouth.

The feeling of his cum filling your pussy sent you over the edge, Sam’s hand coming to cover your mouth as you moaned into his palm. As you both caught your breath, hands still covering mouths, you began to slowly move your hips - smiling against Sam’s palm when he let out a moan against yours.

Sam removed his hand from around your mouth, grabbing at your hips to stop your movements. He moved his head so your hand fell from his mouth. “Enough.” You giggled seeing his dominating demeanor was back, rolling off him to make your way towards the bathroom.

Before you could get too far, Sam’s arm wrapped around your waist. “Uh, uh. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To pee before we go to bed.”

“No, no. I’m not letting you off that easily for that little ‘Pillow Princess’ comment.” His breath was warm as he began trailing kisses down your neck.

“Aren’t you tired?” The wetness dripping down your thighs contradicted your words.

“Nope, the tea had caffeine in it. I’ll be wide awake for hours.”

#greta van fic #greta van fleet #sam kiszka fic #greta van fleet imagine #sam kiszka #sam x reader #sam gvf #gvf one shot #gvf fic #gvf imagine #greta van fleet smut #sam kiszka smut

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1kook · 4 years

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kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 3 years

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tuesday again 3/8/22

this week on This Old House

listening dangerous heart, by night club. another kind of goofy little song with a hook that’s thoroughly stuck in my head, that little bloopy bit that sounds like you’re booking it down a rainy highway in a eighties cybernoir. i would have been Very Into this song in high school, but it’s got a real 2016-2018 flavor of...songs that a movie about a female assassin would feature in the climax, where she’s stalking inside a secured facility soaked in rain and neon to kill her mentor/replacement father figure. this sort of driving but understated club music simply did not exist when i graduated high school in 2013

youtube

reading fallow week

watching everyone will be delighted to know i am finally watching deep space nine, one of the uncountable star trek tv runs. im about halfway through s1 and im very much “wow cool space station!” and enjoy the little morality puzzle it throws at me and then immediately bulldozes over. who all here has good meta or background reading. apparently there’s a podcast some of the cast did breaking down each episode and i do want to listen to that but maybe not right now.

i love aggravated hands on hips dad sisko. no one will be surprised to know i adore major kira. awful terrible woman, great deal of fun to watch.

playing parking jam 3D, a free mobile game by popcore. unfortunately i did pay to remove ads on this one but i think it has paid for itself by helping me fall asleep several nights in a row. sometimes i check out an app if it’s been in the top 20 for several months of logging shit for work in a row. just to see what’s up. i like simple slidy puzzles. soothing for the brain

the dev, popcore, is a berlin-based company with 100+ employees which is on the larger side for a studio that hasn’t been snapped up yet but they’re making a fucking killing bc their ad placement and frequency is incredibly fucking annoying and this half-paying-attention feedback loop makes it real easy to do uhhhhh several thousand levels while waiting for other things to happen. hypercasual games! easy to pick up with no language barrier where a level can be played in under thirty seconds! that’s how they getcha! i know how it works and i work here and it still got me!

making all right here we go lotta shit happened this weekend bc i attempted to work out some rage in a healthier way mostly by making my kitchen nicer. i’m still catatonically angry but my kitchen does look way nicer.

but first two additions to the bay window room (in my head i call it the office bc that’s mostly what i do in there but it feels very proprietary. other people live here also):

this tiny hardwood/brass table cleaned up very nicely, i regrettably did not take before pics and the craigslist posting has been sensibly taken down. brassoed the living hell out of it, then murphy’s wood soap, 3 layers of tea stain on scratches that didn’t do much of anything, tightened the joints, “solved” a stripped screw problem with a generous dollop of wood glue, and put my little felt furniture pads i love so much on the feeties. there are zero ninety degree angles in this house and none of the floors are level either but it’s at an acceptable level of wobble. i keep forgetting to acquire a rubber mallet to gently persuade the little brass tray to go back in its little cutout but it’s usable. the goal is to make a nice little reading nook in the entryway/other living room bc we simply don’t really use that room very much and it’s weird.

this three and a half foot tall lamp also cleaned up real nice: (vacuumed the shade, glued an alarming amount of the trim and edging back down with my good friend liquid stitch, cleaned the glass and cord, dusted off the metal part, pried open the bottom and removed the broken nightlight bulb)

kitchen: put up art (vaguely anti-war and anti-military-in-space themed, i cannot think of a more western massachusetts thing than decorating my sundrenched prewar kitchen with a gallery wall of activist posters mostly purchased in one fell swoop the last time i got a bonus, i have become that which i hate but it does look fucking sick imo) patched nail holes from failed attempts at gallery wall, caulked a bunch of shit while i was up there, patched some other nail holes from other shit.

after/before, posters from left to right: fuck your space tourism, protect mauna kea, bofa het (my sister got this at some local print on demand shop but here’s an etsy listing), daddy what did you do in the climate war?, a gift from the people of the united states of america, we checked no heaven for bootlickers, octavia butler

acquired pompom trim. acquired more fabric to make curtains for the hall window. washed the new fabric and the curtains i had already made and managed to bleach them evenly, a thing i did not manage the last time i washed them. put the pompom trim on the sink window curtains, managed to complete one set of cafe curtains but i do not have it in me tonight to do the other set so that’ll have to be next week’s making or something. also put up plants on plant hooks from the ceiling (found out my ceiling is inch and a quarter thick plaster and lath) but am also not satisfied with how they are hanging. much to tweak.

there are a couple more things i want to do in the kitchen (magnetic knife strip, contact paper for our weird backsplash, figure out wtf is up with our water filter, finish the wretched hive of scum and villainy cross stitch + frame + hang that up so it covers a weird hole left by a light fixture over our back entryway, a better solution for mops and brooms and shit, caulk some more shit and replace the weatherstripping on the back door) but other than that i am mostly satisfied with that room. i have plates and glasses and cutlery i like and a kitchen table and chairs that could survive a direct hit from a tank. spent a truly ridiculous amount of time and money getting this kitchen, the room i spend the least time in, Just So bc i had such a clear vision in my brain of what i wanted and we are Almost There.

also deep cleaned the kitchen and discovered a slow leak bc that’s just how it goes. conveniently, the shower handle fell the fuck off last night and the bathroom sink stopper has not worked since we moved in (we have been propping it open with a dull paring knife for eight months) so hopefully whoever our landlord sends to fix this will make our house much more functional. even if he refuses to pay for the moth treatment, plumbing shit is a thing that is very clearly his responsibility in our lease. bastard.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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bruhlsbees · 3 years

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sweet disposition: 1/? || femaleprofessor!reader x modern!alex kerner

hi bestie hehe i’d like to request a little series for you, sub! a little jealous modern alex keener (of age) x professor! f reader (late 20’s) - shes an english romantic lit professor & her “love interest” is a film professor who is one of alex’s shared teacher. alex has a little crush on her, and knows the film teacher is after her. super fluffy, smut maybe??? u decide baby, im just so excited eeeeek!!!

summary: alex kerner is a senior film student and develops a crush for his friend, denis, english professor

pairing: modern!alex kerner and professor!reader

warnings: age gap (alex is 22 and reader is 32), wet dream, sweet sweet pathetic boy, nsfw, 18+, minors dni

word count: 4,387

a/n: thank you for the request @gotmadison ily sweet gal!! this will be a short fic series i write and will post probably throughout the coming weekend! :) please enjoy and if you have any requests or asks please send them in!!!

For Alex Kerner, a senior film student, nothing bored him more than the first day of a new unit. He knew what to expect - twenty plus slides about some dead, or borderline dead, director while connecting their life to the style of films they did and how it related to whatever political controversy was going down at the time. Alex knew that there was a reason for going into so much history to better understand the meaning of the films, but jesus did it have to drag for so long?

The auditorium that Alex’s class was held in was larger, although the class was rather small. There were maybe, at most, thirty students in his class, including him, which felt empty as the auditorium they were in was meant to hold almost double that. Alex didn’t mind though, of all the rows, he was the only one in the back, taking the middle seat - of course, the best view to see a film. He recognized a lot of the faces in his class, as it was a senior level class, but he didn’t bother to converse with many.

It wasn’t that he was shy, not overly at least, he just didn’t care to make friends. It was an afternoon class, he was just getting out of work to rush to his class, and far too exhausted to try and fake being friendly…hence him sitting in the back, all alone.

The ‘Authorship in Cinema’ course he was currently in was held twice a week - both two hours long. The first class of the week was held for lectures and the second class was held for the film screening. The university was just getting back from winter break, continuing into the last half of the semester. In Alex’s class they had finished their unit on Roman Polanski before the break and they came into the next covering Krzysztof Kieślowski. Alex was thrilled to say the least about not having to listen to his film professor rave on Polanski. Even after discussing Polanski’s case, his professor still seemed to idolize the man.

Alex was not fond of his film professor. He was a younger professor, maybe in his late thirties, early forties, and he seemed to praise the worst directors he could find. His name was Jaxon Thorne and was the staple image of a douche. He always wore faded jeans that were tight in the crotch, scuffed up sneakers that he always tried to pass as being cool, and a sweater with a scarf - even though they were inside. He truly didn’t get how girls liked the man. Alex wouldn’t lie though, some of his opinions were interesting, but the guy loved to hear himself talk, that much was obvious.

They weren’t even at the tenth slide yet when Alex felt himself beginning to doze off. Work had been busy today, fixing satellites and dealing with prissy wives and their drunk husbands. He was almost late getting to class with all the traffic that was on the highway. The last thing he wanted to do was attend class. It took everything in him not to put his head down and go to sleep right there. He had done it before, and that was a mistake he would never make again. Waking up to everyone staring and snickering while the teacher was hovering over you meant for a lasting effect.

But Alex just couldn’t take it, he was so bored with Kieślowski’s early work. The documentaries of everyday lives for city dwellers, workers, and soldiers could not keep his attention even if he wasn’t tired. He sunk down into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, before craning his head to the side on his shoulder. His blinking became slow, desperately trying to stay awake and pay attention, but his eyes grew heavy, and before he knew it, his mouth was gaped open, drool slipping out of the corner of his lips.

He didn’t know how long he had dozed off for, but when he woke up he heard the projector screen zip up and the lights click on. Jumping slightly, Alex sat back up, feeling the stickiness of his drool on his face. With a groan, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jean jacket before beginning to pack his things up into his bag.

“On Wednesday we will dive into his documentary, Workers, and discuss the censorship aspect of it. Come prepared to watch the screening and discuss afterwards. If anyone has any questions or comments, I’ll be staying after for a few minutes.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex pushed himself out of his chair, swinging his bag over his shoulder before rushing out the back door at the top of the auditorium. He couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough to avoid his teacher from going off on an ‘intellectual conversation’ on their new unit. Barf.

Alex was happy though to finally be out of class and to enjoy his hour and a half break before his next class. He knew he should have been finalizing what project he wanted to submit for critique in his senior portfolio, but he needed something to wake him up.

As he turned the hallway, going to leave the building, he stopped by the vending machine and pulled out a crinkled bill from his pocket, pushing it into the machine before pressing the buttons to get a bottle of Coke. To his luck, however, the machine stalled, the bottle retriever getting stuck in front of the row and producing an obnoxious ‘whirring’ noise.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Gripping the side of the vending machine, Alex shook the machine roughly, rocking the broken vending machine back and forth until setting it back, sending a punch to the front of it.

“Woah, woah! Jesus man what did that vending machine do to you?”

Turning his head, Alex’s glare softened at the sight of his friend, Denis, approaching him. Denis, with his books still in his hands, tucked them under his arm as he stood in front of the machine, watching as the machine stalled with Alex’s bottle of Coke.

“The stupid thing got stuck! Is it too much to ask for a bottle of co-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the machine began to work again, grabbing the bottle and dispensing it below. Staring blankly at the bottom, his lips pulled into a tight line, Alex could only feel the embarrassment settling in - and it didn’t help to hear Denis laugh at how ridiculous he reacted.

“Oh my god, dude, you seriously need to take it easy. Did work kill you that bad?” Denis asked, watching as Alex bent down to pull out the bottle, standing back up as he began unscrewing the cap, guzzling the pop down.

Nodding his head, Alex screwed the cap back on before tucking the bottle in his bag, hiccuping at the carbonation before sighing, “Yeah, and it doesn’t help that I gotta go to Professor Dick’s class right after.”

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Denis nodded, listening to Alex as he vented, “Yeah, Thorne’s a real piece of work. But hey! Only gotta deal with him for another semester after this. Who knows, maybe he will knock a student up and ditch down?”

The fantasy would have been nice to come true, but Alex knew that it would stay just that - a fantasy. Thorne was a questionable guy, with interesting ideas and made borderline inappropriate comments towards the female students in all his classes…but that was just it, he could charm anyone he wanted, and that’s how he stayed around.

“Yeah, maybe when dogs walk on two legs…” Alex mumbled, pressing his knuckles to his eyes and rubbing the sleep out of them, a yawn escaping his lips.

As he dropped his hands down to his side, he felt Denis nudge him in the arm, groaning at the contact as he was too tired to have any contact, “You got class at seven right?”

Nodding, Alex blinked, a tired smile on his face as he smacked his lips, “Yeah…seven to nine, best time of day to have a senior portfolio workshop.”

Denis laughed at the sarcastic comment, mentioning that it could’ve been worse and be at seven in the morning than at night. Alex, however, couldn’t see how anything could be worse than an evening class after a long day of work.

“Listen, I got my ‘Romanticism in Literature’ class in a few…why don’t you come with me? My teacher’s pretty cool and I’m sure she won’t mind if you sit in. I’m in the back anyways so she probably won’t even realize. She’s got pretty bad vision I’ve realized. I think she said that her glasses don’t got the right prescription or somethin. She’s always runnin late and claims she never has time to put her contacts in.”

The detailed explanation of the professor’s vision made Alex laugh, shaking his head as Denis looked at him confused, cheeks red, “What? It’s what she’s told us! She’s always coming in late. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came in late this time around. She’s got office hours before class, so she probably gets held up with a student.”

“Sounds like you’re in love with her, is that right, Denny Boy? Someone’s gotta crush on the teacher? Ain’t that every high school kid’s fantasy? Get the hots for the teacher?”

Scoffing, Denis rolled his eyes at Alex’s teasing and shoved him in the arm, “No man, come on now, it ain’t like that. Look if you don’t wanna come I don’t care, but I gotta go before I’m late.”

Holding his hands up in defense, Alex trailed behind Denis, going back in the direction he originally came from, “Hey, hey, I was only kidding, don’t gotta get defensive. I’ll take along, hopefully I won’t fall asleep in this class. Why you even taking this class anyways?”

Following Denis into the class, the auditorium setup similar to the one he just came out of, except smaller, Alex sat beside Denis in the back row, watching as the class filled up, only a few seats not filled.

“I guess I gotta earn some more credits outside my degree, this was the only one that wasn’t completely filled up yet and it worked with my schedule. It ain’t too bad, she gives us a lot of free time to work.”

Watching as Denis set his bag down beside him, opening his textbook to where they left off the other day, Alex watched Denis prep for the class, the teacher not in sight. Alex figured that the teacher must have been running late, like Denis said she always did, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d be before she even showed up.

Fifteen minutes after class was supposed to begin the front door ripped open, slamming shut seconds after while heels frantically clicked towards the desk in the front of class.

“Sorry I’m late! I got caught up with another professor. I hope you all enjoyed your winter breaks and are happy to be back. I know I’m thrilled to be back!”

The sweet voice caught Alex’s attention, his eyes pulling from his cell phone and to the front of the class where the professor had just walked in. He felt his mouth fall open slightly, catching it before Denis noticed his reaction.

He was expecting an old lady for Denis’ class, someone who was on the edge of death and smelled of cats. What he found, however, was someone the complete opposite. Younger, curvier, and the scent that filled the room when she entered was warm - like she just finished drinking a cup of coffee.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, bangs hanging low over her eyes, covering the tops of her crooked frames. She couldn’t have been all that older than him, maybe mid-thirties at max. He didn’t notice what she was wearing below, but the shirt she wore clung to her so well, the outline of her fuller chest displayed with her necklace dipping into her cleavage.

‘Good God, Alex, get a hold of yourself.’

Alex watched the professor, noticing her speaking although his lusted thoughts deafened his ears. He assumed she was asking how the break went and if anyone did anything fun because a few people raised their hands, a kind smile on her face as she listened to her students.

“That’s great to hear, Polly! You’ll have to show me the photos you took sometime. I have never been to that side of the country before,” Her head shifted towards the other side of the room, looking up at the higher rows. “Did anyone else have anything to share about their break?”

Denis’ professor sat patiently and listened to everyone who wanted to share, giving everyone the opportunity to discuss their breaks before she opened up her laptop to get started with class. Alex watched as she picked up the remote and pointed it to the projector box, the screen coming down beside her with her computer screen displayed.

Her home screen featured what he assumed to be her and some friends. He recognized a few of the people in the photo as they were also professors at the university - what made Alex turn his nose, however, was right beside her - in all his douchebag glory, Jaxon Thorne. Before he could make a cohesive thought, the photo went away and a slideshow on Mary Shelley appeared…and maybe for the better.

“Okay everyone! As mentioned in the email, we are gonna be diving into Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein for this part of the semester,” She began, her warm smile still ignited, chuckling lightly as some of the students up front became uneasy in their seats, excited for the novel, “I’m glad to hear we have some fans. Now, I promised that I wouldn’t give you any reading over break, but because of that we will be reading quite a bit over the next few weeks.”

The slide shifted to the reading guide and what chapters were due when. Alex watched as some students scribbled the due dates down while others pulled out their cell phones, snapping a photo before stuffing their phones away.

“For Wednesday I would like you all to have read the preface and letters one through four. Come prepared to discuss your analyses of the text and any questions you may have. Of course, I’ll have my office hours open tomorrow and Wednesday before class, but if there are any questions, you can send me an email and I’ll try to get back with you in a timely manner.”

The rest of class seemed to lull by, Alex’s gaze fixed on the professor that continued to go over what the last half of the semester would look like, answering the occasional question, before finally it was time to pack up and go. Frowning, Alex shifted in his seat, looking at Denis who was packing things up in his bag.

“It’s over?” Alex asked, eyebrows furrowed, a pathetic frown on his face.

Looking up from his bag, Denis smiled, nodding, “Yeah man, it is. Why? You fall in love with Mary Shelley?” Standing up, Denis pushed his seat under the table and shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, if it works for your schedule and you’re interested, maybe go up and ask if you can enroll. I don’t know if you’ll be able to with it being so late in the semester, but it’s worth a shot,” Glancing down at his watch, Denis sighed, “Look, I gotta run, but let me know how it goes, okay?” Patting Alex’s back, Denis rushed up the stairs and out the back door, fleeing the auditorium to get to his next class on time.

Meanwhile, Alex kept seated, watching as the professor talked with some students who approached her desk after class, laughing and admiring the editions of Frankenstein that students presented. Was this how professors could be with their students? Actually caring and involved? It seemed like Alex had poor luck with his own professors - either they were old as a bat and didn’t know how to work the computer, or they were a presumptuous dick.

When the students began to flock out, already discussing how they were looking forward to Wednesday’s class, Alex finally stood up, pulling his bag over his shoulder and making his way down the auditorium steps. She hadn’t noticed him as he walked, writing something down in her planner. As he stood now in front of her, he cleared his throat awkwardly, gaining her attention as she looked up, squinting before taking her glasses off.

“Hello,” he began shyly, adjusting the strap of his bag, “I’m Alex. My friend, Denis, he’s in your class.”

At the mention of Denis, she smiled and nodded, “Yes! Denis, nice boy he is,” She adjusted her position in her seat, leaning back slightly, “I-I’m sorry, are you in my class? I don’t believe I’ve ever see-”

“No! I mean, no, no I’m not in your class. I have a free hour before my next class and Denis invited me to sit in for this one,” He rushed, cheeks red as he realized how abruptly he had interrupted her, “I’m sorry, um, yeah I just came down because I really enjoyed your lecture today. I was curious if there was any way I could maybe enroll? I know it’s late in the semester, but I did enjoy today.”

The cheeky smile faded into a sadder, smaller smile. She chewed on her bottom lip before leaning forward again, crossing her arms over chest, accentuating her cleavage that Alex desperately tried not to stare at.

“Oh, I’m sorry Alex, but I don’t think I can convince the department to let you in this late in the semester. I love your enthusiasm with the course and would love to have you in my class, but I don’t think I can make that happen.” Her smile dropped to a frown when she saw the visible disappointment in Alex’s face before bending over to open her bag, pulling out a copy of Frankenstein, handing it to Alex.

Looking down at the copy, Alex opened the cover, reading what he assumed to be her name in the cover, before flipping through the pages, a weak smile on his face, trying his best to not look so pathetic in front of her.

“How about this? I probably shouldn’t, but if you want to sit in on the days you’re free, you’re more than welcome to. I’ll forward you the reading guide so you can keep up with us, but you won’t earn any credit in this class. Is that okay?”

His frown turned into a grin, looking up from the book, Alex nodded, his cheeks pink as his toothy crooked grin spread across his face, “Yeah, yes. Thank you,” Tugging down the front of his striped blue shirt, he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the book before back up at her, “Um, so when are your office hours? Just in case I have any questions?”

Letting out a faint ‘ah’, she opened her notebook and scribbled some notes down, tearing off the paper and handing it to Alex, “You’re more than welcome to shoot me an email though if you need help outside of my office hours. Or you can call my office number, sometimes I answer it.” She admitted, her own cheeks going pink at the confession.

Smiling, Alex looked down at the paper and made a mental note to remember all that she had given him.

My email,

My office number,

Office hours are M&W: 3-5:15 and T&R: 1-2

Class takes place on M&W from 5:30-6:30

The smile she left on the page made Alex’s stomach flutter. His thumb ran along the smiley face before he looked up, thanking her quietly for the note. She was sweet, almost too sweet for Alex to absorb, like he was in a sugar coma and begging for more.

“Of course, it was nice to meet you Alex. I’m looking forward to seeing you in class. I don’t mean to run off, but I’m to meet another professor here in a couple minutes and don’t need to be lectured on being late.”

When she stood up, Alex’s face went hot. The flowy flower blouse that showed more cleavage than he had seen on a professor before was tucked into a tight jean skirt, clinging to her hips in all the right places, a thick black belt holding it all together. If it weren’t for the fact that he was right in front of her, he probably would have started drooling.

Packing up her desk, she stuffed her things in her bag, throwing her sweater over her shoulder before throwing her bag around her, moving around the desk to stand beside it now, looking up at Alex. He noted how she was shorter, the heels helping her with height, and how good her legs looked in them. Clearing his throat, he shifted his bag around him to sit in front of his pants, attempting to hide any possible pop-up in his jeans.

“If you’re free tomorrow, stop by my office hours. I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’s too early for you. I know you college boys stay up far too late. I can only imagine what your mothers think.” She teased, shaking her head and she turned and began to head out of the room, hearing Alex keep tight on her trail.

Turning off the lights and letting him leave first, she shut the door behind her and stood beside Alex, motioning towards the English department office, “I’ll see you tomorrow, or Wednesday, my office is the last one on the right. I’ll be sure to leave my door open!”

Nodding, Alex smiled and waved goodbye as she waved back, rushing down the hall and weaving through the students to get into the office. Letting out a sigh, Alex leaned against the doorway, processing his first encounter with the professor, the boyish lust grin stuck on his face.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Panting hard, Alex gripped her hips tight, his fingers digging into her plush figure, grunting as he snapped his hips into her from behind, her pillowed ass meeting him with each thrust. The sweat that built up on him was beginning to fall down face, trailing down his neck and chest.

Tangling his right hand into her hair, his left still placed on her hips, Alex pulled her locks gently, smiling at the sound of her wanton moan, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“A-Alex! Oh god, Alex, I don’t think I’m going to last. F-Fuck!”

Feeling his own climax build, Alex let out a shaky breath as he bent down craning his neck to kiss her lips as he continued to rut inside of her, his thrusts becoming sloppy and quicker.

The sensation became too much too quickly, his legs shaking as he kneeled behind her befo-

Jolting awake, the obnoxious phone alarm woke Alex from his dream, resulting in a now completely frustrated mood. While still on his back, Alex reached behind him on the shelf that rested behind his bed frame, pulling his phone up and looking at the screen, squinting to gain his vision from waking up, the bright screen burning his eyes.

When he unlocked his phone and opened it, prompting him to his email, his frown lit up and turned into a smile, seeing her name in his inbox.

Good evening, Alex!

I’m sorry this is so late, I’m finally getting back to my apartment and wanted to send this your way before I forgot. Here is the reading guide for the rest of the semester and that information I shared with you earlier in case you lost it.

I look forward to seeing you in my office tomorrow or Wednesday. I hope you have a good night! :)

Best!

Alex’s mood quickly shifted after reading the email. While he was disappointed that the wet dream he was having with her ended so soon, he was more than pleased to see that he had an email from her. Clicking his phone off, Alex tossed his phone onto his bed, sitting up with his hand behind him to keep him up.

His room illuminated a red/orange hue from the lava lamp that sat on his dresser in the corner of his room. Turning his attention towards the window, he looked behind the blinds to see the city life outside his apartment lit up, the sound of music coming from the club down the road and laughs from those partying.

Letting out a yawn, Alex shook his head and rubbed his face, shifting his legs before stopping quickly, feeling the mess in his boxers. Looking down, Alex groaned seeing the stain in his boxers, pressing his hand to feel the wet spot before sighing, standing up. He pulled his boxers carefully off, tossing them into his laundry basket before making his way into the bathroom to clean up.

When he entered the small bathroom that was connected to his room, he hissed at the bright light as it came on, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair was tangled up, sticking out on the sides and his eyes were squinted, too tired to open them fully. Shaking his head, Alex climbed into the shower and started the water, the cold water hitting him both waking him up and cooling himself down.

He was absolutely and pathetically smitten over her. There was no doubt about it. Since leaving her class, the only thoughts that occupied his mind were of her. He had already planned out what he would wear tomorrow when he went to her office hours. It was pathetic, truly, with how quickly he was letting the woman ruin him. It was ridiculous to say, no doubt, because what would happen between them? Nothing. Not a single thing would come between the two other than a conversation about Frankenstein, maybe a personal question here and there.

Or so he thought.

#submissions #submission #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #daniel brühl imagine #daniel bruhl imagine #goodbye lenin #good bye lenin #alex kerner #alex kerner imagine #alex kerner smut #alex kerner x reader #au #college au #modern au #sweet disposition

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okay-j-hannah · 3 years

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All’s Fair In Love And War

The Marauders : Fic

Sirius x Reader and James x Reader!Platonic

Word Count: 3492

Warnings: ANGST my guy... copious amounts of ANGST but with a happily ever after 😊

Request: “Dudee! May the best man win was awesome! Please give us a part two of Y/N ignoring them so hard and making them regret!” - Anon

A/N:

Part 1: May The Best Man Win

Remus tapped his quill incessantly into his desk, unable to concentrate on his exam. A few rows away he could see Peter staring at his parchment with his fidgeting hands in his lap. He had no idea where to begin with the list of questions.

Beside him was James, a sight to behold. Not wishing to be caught by McGonagall, he only snuck a few glances at his pale friend. James was disheveled, his hair unkempt as ever but with something more unnerving – as if he didn’t even care to look at it, brush it. The effort appeared to be in his school uniform, at least he managed to fold his collar despite how wrinkled the rest of his shirt was. His tie was loose, and it remained the reason Remus knew his friend was still breathing, cause he could see it rising and falling on his chest.

He was just sitting so still. He was staring into nothing. The circles under his eyes could rival Remus’ around a full moon.

And adjacent to him was an empty desk, one that should be housing Sirius. He hadn’t even shown up for their end of year exam.

Remus sighed, feeling his quill tip dull under the pressure he prodded. At least James was able to show. He had no doubt Sirius was brooding in the corner of the common room, butterbeer in hand. Or else he was sitting beside the Blake Lake, toes turning blue as he stuck his feet in the water.

Yes, at least James came to the Great Hall to take his exam, even if he wasn’t looking at the parchment. Remus knew he was staring at the pair of girls at the other end of the hall.

There was (Y/N) and her friend Mary, each scribbling along their exams as the rest of the students should be. McGonagall began walking between the desks and Remus returned his gaze to his own scroll of transfiguration questions.

It had been a few weeks since those dreaded Easter holidays and every second had been a personal hell for the marauders. James was humbled, became extremely tolerant, and had lost his first quidditch game in years. Sirius became something more irritable; he was edgy and sought the solidarity of dark corners. He rarely socialized, couldn’t even bring himself to take the mickey out on Peter.

It was a grand awakening for James, it made him regret and change. He no longer felt the need to terrorize younger students or attack Snivellus. He was kinder to those around him and even offered to help where he could. Though he did all of it with a glazed look in his eyes and a depressed smile on his face.

Sirius, in the classic fashion of being James’ complete opposite, turned in on himself. He became self-deprecating and didn’t wish to inflict that torment on anyone else. He believed in every ounce of hate he received, in the amount of guilt he harbored. He struggled to see past the bad. His life was teeming with it.

The Great Hall doors burst open, and the flittering steps of Professor Dumbledore appeared. At his side was a very reluctant Sirius.

“Ah, Professor McGonagall,” he said with lightness that did not match the person beside him. “I believe you’re missing a student.”

“Black,” McGonagall snipped, walking towards him and eyeing his ruffled clothes, “You’re thirty minutes late.”

Sirius merely shrugged his shoulders, looking anywhere but the corner of the room (Y/N) and Mary stared.

McGonagall released a heavy sigh, though her brow modeled concern. “Well, take your seat. You’ve still got around an hour to finish the exam. I suggest you use the time wisely.” She shared a look with Dumbledore as Sirius retreated.

Remus and James followed their friend with worry in their eyes, but his desk was too far for them to ask silent questions.

Sirius merely slumped in his chair and twiddled with his quill. He may have been forced to be there, but that didn’t mean he was going to comply with the test taking. Remus forced himself to return his attention to his own exam. And the rest of the hour was filled with a ticking clock and scratching quills.

By the time McGonagall waved her wand and called forth the scrolls of parchment, Remus devised another tactic to fix the wellbeing of his companions. Instead of greeting James and Peter, he chose to wait by the door until (Y/N) came by.

She had her head held high, book bag tight on her arm.

“(Y/N).”

“Not now, Remus, I’ve got to study for Charms.” Mary was nearby, leading the way outside. “I don’t want to hear some other passed along apology.”

Remus wringed his hands, falling into step beside her, “I’m not trying to speak for them. I just want to talk to you. I – I’m worried.”

There was a small pause in her steps, but she kept forward, “It’s none of my concern.”

“But they’re not getting any better,” a new curt edge in his tone, “They’re not themselves anymore.”

“I distinctly remember saying that they don’t exist anymore. I don’t care, Remus.”

“You don’t want to care.”

She finally stopped and turned to him, “I’m moving on. And I won’t be able to keep doing that if you bring this up every time I see you.” But she hesitated at the look on his face, “Remus, what’s wrong?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes full of fretting, “I know you think this was some kind of joke – and it was for a while – but I don’t think you realize how far they fell for you.”

“And that’s supposed to make what they did okay?”

“No,” he bit back, “Not at all. But what’s happening to them right now, that is proof that they regret. That they are sorry for what they did. I think they…”

(Y/N) folded her arms, clearly unimpressed, “Think they what?”

“They need a little forgiveness to get better.”

“No,” she snapped, whipping around and continuing down the entryway, “I’m glad they’re stewing in their regret. They should be.”

“For how long, (Y/N)?” Remus begged, following her steps, “I’m tired of watching them wither away.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “You were there when we had this conversation. I don’t want to see or speak to them. Ever.”

Remus felt his blood boil over, “It’s killing them, (Y/N)! And I won’t watch it anymore. I am terrified that they’re going to be like this forever. You see them, (Y/N), I know you do. You look when you think no one’s around.”

She stiffened, “What do you want me to do, Remus? I can’t forgive them – not yet at least.”

“Please, just talk to them. Make them feel less invisible.”

“I don’t know…”

Remus grabbed her shoulders and made her face him. “James keeps his snitch locked away in his trunk. Sirius gets detention and then does it without a fuss.” Her gaze was hard, but he could see it thinning. “I can’t get James to do so much as nick food from the kitchens – all he does is study like the obedient student he’s never been. I don’t think I’ve heard Sirius make a complete sentence since the holidays. He refuses to even keep company with his friends.”

She swallowed hard, “They hurt me, Remus. They hurt me bad. It’s – It’s hard for me to look past the game they played. Even if their feelings have changed.”

“Please, (Y/N), I’m begging,” he retorted. “Just talk to them, get some closure. I know you made a choice back on that train. Could you just give them some piece of mind? I’m sure it would help you too.”

She looked up at him with some remorse in her gaze, until it flitted to whatever was behind his shoulder.

He whipped around and found Sirius standing several feet away. There was a slouch in his shoulders and his hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes. But there was clear pain and longing there where he stared back.

(Y/N) took an involuntary step backward, hands winding tight around her book bag. Her breathing hitched in her throat and Remus sidestepped.

Sirius took a shaky breath, his eyes purple rimmed and stinging, “(Y/N) …”

But she had already turned on her heel and darted towards her common room. The sigh that escaped Sirius had Remus at his shoulder in an instant.

~~~

There was no one else on the quidditch pitch when she sat in the stands. She sat there and waited, her heart thumping a thousand beats a second. She knew he’d be walking by any minute; he always did on the weekends.

She could hear footsteps thumping against the grass and a chill went up her spine. James came around the corner, kicking dandelions as he went. But his steps faltered, his eyes went wide.

“(Y/N)?”

The edge of fear in his voice put a familiar thump in her chest, “Hey, James.”

His breathing got heavier, his hands running up to tangle in his hair, “You… you’re not running away.”

“I wanted to talk.”

After spending so much time avoiding him, it was a shock to see the state of him. His glasses hid most of the tiredness in his eyes, but he was pale, paler than usual. His voice was raspy where he choked on the words.

“Talk?” She patted the seat next to her and watched him weigh whether or not she was joking before sitting. “Had a change of heart?”

She took a deep breath, keeping her hands tight in her lap. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking a lot about the last time we talked. What I said to you.”

“It’s all right, (Y/N). You were right – you had the right to be angry. I’m just… I’m glad we’re talking now.”

She turned to him and was met with a pained grimace, “I think you need to hear me say it.” He shut his mouth real quick. “James, what you did was horrible, terrible. I thought of it as unforgiveable. But if there’s anything that could’ve proven to me that you guys felt differently about the joke, it’s how you guys have been behaving the last few weeks.

“I think I’ve been punishing you because of my own embarrassment. But honestly – this grudge holding deal isn’t healthy for either of us.”

“You’re looking better than any of us,” James laughed, disbelief ringing in his ears.

She smiled his favorite smile, “I forgive you James.”

He sighed, leaning over and putting his head in his hands. “Thank you, (Y/N), thank you.” He turned to her with an earsplitting grin, “I know I was stupid and arrogant, and it was just some childish bet. We didn’t think about the people we would hurt.”

She started to laugh, “I know, James – that’s why you’re forgiven.” But then she caught the subtle look in his eyes, and she had to suck in her lips. “Look James…”

“It wasn’t going to be me, was it?” the understanding in his voice was remarkable.

“You’re not mad?”

He leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes beneath his glasses, “Mad? You’ve just forgiven me from one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done – of course I’m not mad.”

(Y/N) ran sweaty hands against her knees, “I think you should talk to Lily.” That made his eyebrows raise, “Ever since you’ve knocked down your ego a few notches, she’s started seeing the good in you.”

A newfound smile crept onto his face, “There might be a happy ending for us all yet. Have you told… Sirius?” The stillness of her expression gave the answer away, “You know, I think he’s been far worse than me. You’re going to want to find him quick.”

She shared a glance with him and an appreciative smile, “It’s so good to talk to you again.”

~~~

It didn’t take her long to track down Sirius, he hid out in only a few different places those days. She kept James beside her, each taking turns talking and catching the other up on all they’ve missed. They trailed down the corridor, James falling easily back into how things used to be with (Y/N).

“Let me carry your book bag.”

“James…” The edge in her voice made him laugh, even more as she raised a brow.

“I’m just being friendly, just like we used to.”

And with a comforting feeling of nostalgia, she handed her bag over, giving him a swift punch to the arm for good measure. He rubbed the spot mockingly with a dramatic whine on his lips.

“So how do you suppose I should talk to Evans?”

“You can start by calling her by her first name.”

“She likes being called Evans.”

“Since when has she liked anything you do, James?”

He shrugged half-heartedly, “Just recently, if my sources are correct.”

(Y/N) sighed with an easy smile on her face, “You made friends with me fairly quickly. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

James pondered with an animated look, “All right, you want to make a bet? How fast I’ll win Lily’s affections?”

“Too soon, Potter – way too soon.” But she was smiling, nonetheless. So much so that she didn’t notice the new visitor coming down the hall.

They were on their way towards one of the secret entrances that the Marauders discovered for their map of mischief. There was always the chance of finding one of the quartet skulking in the entryway or hiding along the passage in case Filch or Minnie was after them.

It appeared Sirius had taken such refuge, deciding to come out when he heard familiar voices. And the sight before him took what shattered glass his chest was and refine it to sand.

(Y/N) and James were walking side by side, laughing and talking as if no time had passed between the Easter holidays and now. Then deep in his gut, he knew, (Y/N) had chosen James – it was James from the beginning.

She chose to forgive James and now they were going to live happily ever after.

And Sirius was left to despair in painful silence.

(Y/N) looked up and found her sweet smile vanish instantly. James was quick to follow, readjusting the bag on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, as if the words he was just saying were suddenly lodged in his throat.

“Back at it, I see.” The hoarseness in Sirius’ voice was heart wrenching.

James flickered his eyes towards (Y/N), noticing her shock, and saying, “How are you, mate? It’s been a bit.”

“A bit.” Sirius muttered, repeating the last words with a hardened gaze. “You’ve moved on since last I saw you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t bear to hear the betrayal and anguish in his words. She knew what it looked like. Like she had chosen James and didn’t want to waste her time keeping Sirius in her life.

“Sirius.”

The way she said his name sent a flood of emotion in him that Sirius didn’t like. He didn’t like not being in control of his emotions. He didn’t like that he couldn’t hold himself together. He hated the fact that seeing her looking back at him after all this time was crumbling him as if she’d yelled at him all over again.

“I won’t bother you. Enjoy your evening.” And Sirius turned as quickly as his sleep deprived, wobbly knees would let him, and leave the corridor.

(Y/N) took one step forward and hesitated, a hand outstretched, but the words wouldn’t form from her jumbled thoughts. There was only a look of horror as she watched him leave. James was eyeing her with sympathy, his heart just as punctured by Sirius’ obvious loathing.

“Look at your face,” he feigned a smirk, “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

She finally shut her gapping mouth, biting her lip, “Now more than ever.”

James nodded, putting an arm around her shoulders and leaning down to whisper, “Then go after him.”

In an instant she was running down the corridor, turning sharp and feeling her shoes slide from her momentum. Her throat was dry, and her eyes burned, but she ran like there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

And there was Sirius about to make his way outside and to the courtyard. But she yelled for him first.

“Sirius!”

When he turned there were obvious tears in his eyes, tears that betrayed him and fell at the sound of her voice.

“Sirius, wait, please!”

He could only dare to imagine what she meant by that. But it was enough to keep him rooted to the spot. She was talking to him for the first time in weeks. She was looking at him with something other than hatred.

And the fine sand of his chest rustled with hope against his wishes.

(Y/N) ran so fast that when she collided with him, he was almost knocked off his feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tight against her.

His breathing quickly began to rise to match hers, though he wasn’t the one who had just ran down the stretch of a few corridors. His arms remained limp at his sides, disbelief etching every part of his face.

Only to feel the doubt creep in.

She just wanted to clear the air, so it wasn’t awkward for James and her. She wanted him to be happy for her and James. She wanted them to be friends again.

The problem was that he wasn’t going to survive witnessing those two together.

“(Y/N), don’t do that.” He reluctantly reached for her arms and pulled her away, “You can’t do that.”

He was oblivious to the immediate confusion in her reddened face, “What are you talking about, Sirius? Do you not want me anymore?” Again he didn’t notice how her eyes began to fill with tears similar to his.

He dared to look at her face, to see the features he’d been dreaming about for weeks. He let his gaze linger despite the yelling in his head to spare himself from the pain that would later come. Another hot tear escaped the corner of his eye.

“How could you ever think that?”

She sighed out an exhausted breath, “You are determined to stay unhappy, aren’t you?” When his loving gaze faltered into confusion, she continued, “Sirius, what you saw back there… that was James and I being friends. I just spoke to him this morning and we made up. We decided to be friends again, and to just be friends. The only reason I spoke to him first was because… well, I was more nervous about talking to you.”

Sirius was too busy going over what he had seen earlier, analyzing the interactions between (Y/N) and James.

“Sirius, what happened between us was horrible. I was so hurt that I didn’t give any thought to how you felt. Obviously, an entire school year is a long time to spend with one person, and I’m sure pretending became real very quickly.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes itchy from the tears. But he didn’t dare speak, it was all too good to be true. He didn’t want to wake up from whatever dream this was.

“I forgive you, Sirius.”

He let out an unexpected breath, blinking fast – he was not ready for it. His hands clenched into fists as she took another step closer.

“I forgive you – and it’s been paining me to see you like this. That I did this to you.”

“I did this to myself,” he rasped, “You could never do anything so cruel. Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

Then she was holding his face in her hands, wiping away his tears. She felt her heart skip at the way his eyes closed, and he leaned into her palm. “I want to make things right.”

He reached up and placed a trembling hand over one of hers. “Friends again?”

She smiled an easy smile that heated his face. “Actually…” And she encased his lips with hers. She could feel the stutter in his breath from shock. His limp arms hesitantly rose to graze her waist, unable to will himself over completely.

She broke away, pecking his lips once – twice – more. “Does that tell you plain enough?”

He was trying his best to get his breathing under control. His lower lip was starting to quiver, “So… just friends then?” A smile broke out on those trembling lips.

“Right,” she laughed, wrapping herself around him again, hugging him tightly. And this time he returned the feeling, holding her close by the waist. “I made my choice a long time ago. It’s just taken me a while to figure out how to tell you.”

Sirius buried his face into her shoulder, feeling his chest begin to repair itself. His heart thumped excitedly.

There was no possible way he was going to let go of her any time soon.

~~~

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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years

Text

Acquainted Part 1: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: After avoiding Geto for three weeks after your kiss on the training field, he confronts you while out with a group of sorcerers at the club. (definitely inspired by “Acquainted” by The Weeknd ლ(́◉◞౪◟◉‵ლ))

words: 1,670

tw: nsfw (drug use and drinking)

We’re just blowing off steam. As you fluff your curls and adjust your green, slinky minidress, you try to come up with any good reason to not go to the club with a group of jujutsu sorcerers. And Geto Suguru.

You had skillfully avoided him after kissing in the training field; part of you was nervous, the other was absolutely baffled about how someone so powerful and dangerous could possibly be interested in you. You spent the majority of your time ducking into back hallways when you saw his powerful figure rounding the corner, or avoiding his stare as you passed by. It had been difficult, but your insecurity felt heightened now that you knew you had the eye of one of the strongest men in Tokyo. There was no way that you wouldn’t hear about the comparison if anyone found out about what happened that day.

Yesterday, Shoko had intercepted you on the way to class and grabbed your shoulder, fixing you with a hard stare you didn’t think could come from her. “We’re going out to the club tomorrow, and I want you to be there.”

You click your tongue against your teeth as you press a nude eyeshadow into the crease between your upper and lower eyelid and contemplate faking sick. As if the universe had heard you planning to back out, you hear the unmistakable hiss of your door sliding open. The sound of heels clicking against the floor makes you turn around and come face to face with Shoko, who places a hand on her black denim-clad hip and looks you over once.

“You ready, y/n?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re riding with me and Gojo.” There was no mention of Suguru, but you reason that’s only because Shoko knows. She hadn’t said a word to you about the incident, but the way she accosted you yesterday told you that she was obviously aware.

As you both make your way to the parking lot, you gain a feeling of comfort when you see the sapphire-eyed sorcerer patting on the steering wheel of his SUV, the bass reverberating from the stereo system. When you open the door, the words “bitch, sit on my face, I attack that” hits your eardrums and you cringe before climbing into the back seat.

“Gojo!” you yell over the music, but the sorcerer only deviously smiles at you from the front seat.

“Come on, y/n! It’s a vibe,” Gojo replies, then cranks the music up even more. Shoko sits on the passenger side, lighting up a joint before inhaling deeply and passing it to Gojo. The car pulls out of the parking spot and speeds off to the club. “Here.” Gojo passes you the blunt and you carefully take it between your fingers, inhaling as deeply as you can. You’ll need all of the calming agents you can get your hands on tonight.

Two passes later, the bright lights of the downtown area slide into view and your nerves are much less frayed than before. Gojo makes a few turns, then finds a parking lot where you all smoke your last before extinguishing the joint in the car’s ashtray. The white sorcerer opens your car door, coaxing you out of the seat your legs stuck to, and you follow the two past the long line outside of the club and to the front doors. The bouncer smiles at Gojo, nods at Shoko, and eyes you carefully before opening the door without so much as a word.

“Sometimes being a sorcerer pays off.” Shoko tosses over her shoulder, winking at you. The thumping bass and low-lights remind you of the times you would spend weekends with your friends from college, getting drunk and seeing how many men you could kiss in an evening. Tonight, however, you would get cross-faded and see how many men you could avoid.

The bar was full of people watchers observing those who chose to dance, and your eyes roam the crowd to see if a certain man would appear out of thin air to accost you. When you were certain he had not yet made his appearance, you relaxed against the cool metal of the bar, thinking about what you want to drink. You don’t have to think for long when Gojo slides a glass of clear liquid your way, passing another one to Shoko.

“First round is on me, ladies.” You toss the shot back and grimace as the fire of vodka slides down your throat, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. You wait for the numb feeling to take hold, hoping it would arrive before the raven-haired sorcerer did. But as soon as Shoko pulls you onto the dance floor, the urge to worry slips away on the heels of a catchy tune.

It isn’t long before your hands are in your hair as you swing side to side, the thrumming beat of the music making you close your eyes and release your inhibitions. Yes, this was it. The bliss that comes with the numbness washes over you and you forget all about --

“Oh, hey, we got a VIP section!” You turn your head slowly to look in the direction Shoko pointed, and you could see a few sorcerers you knew in passing seated behind a red velvet rope. Gojo was among them, tossing back another shot, and laughing obnoxiously, and when you scan to the left of them, you catch the black eyes of Geto Suguru. “Come on.”

You timidly follow your friend to the VIP section and smile nervously at the group, who greets you excitedly. Well, everyone except for Suguru, that is. He’s seated off the side of the large booth, fingers pressed to his right temple in a show of boredom.

“Take another shot!” Gojo encourages you, and you obey, if only to focus on something else. “Hey, Suguru, are you going to drink or will I have to give your shot to y/n? She’s already pretty tipsy, but I’m sure you won’t--” A shot disappears from the table in a flash, deposited quickly into Suguru’s throat. Gojo cheers childishly, and turns back to his other friends, striking up a conversation about the time he goaded Suguru into drinking seven shots in a row without stopping. You glance over to the pensive man, who’s clad in an expensive looking dress shirt and black pants. His hair is also up in its usual bun, but he’s not looking at you, instead preferring to stare out into the crowd. You turn away again, but realize a little too late that a second-year is backing up right into you.

On the way down, you consider your fate.

A broken ankle was the worst outcome. A bruised ego was the best.

However, neither of them occur, and you feel a pair of strong hands firmly holding your waist. You look up to see none other than Suguru holding you upright, and the second-year begins his apology, stammering about his mistake as he quickly backs away.

“You alright?” The feeling of Suguru’s hands against your skin makes you shiver, and for a moment, you’re grateful he can’t see the color of your cheeks in the dim light.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” There’s something about the way he looks at you, the way he doesn’t let go of you that breeds that familiar nervousness in you. But you can’t pull away from his grasp… because you don’t want to.

“Dance with me.” The words fall from Suguru’s mouth easily and you nod, earning a half-smile from him. You make your way to the dance floor again, and once you find a spot that isn’t taken, Suguru turns you around and pulls your hips flush against his. You wrap your arms around his neck after he dips low enough. Suguru presses a kiss to your temple before whispering huskily in your ear.

“You’ve been avoiding me for too long, y/n.” The apology that falls from your lips is automatic. “I’m a very patient man, but this? Tell me what I did to push you away.”

“You didn’t do anything.” You answer, and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.

“Then why in the world have you been dancing around me like this?” A strangled noise escapes your mouth and he presses a hand against your bottom, swaying back and forth to the beat of the music.

“I…”

“You don’t have to answer that right now. Just dance with me.” You continue to dance with him, feeling the world blur around the edges as the vodka shots settle into your bloodstream. Suguru’s lips press against your temple again, then he removes his hand from your back to cup your chin. Your lips meet his tenderly, the quick kisses seeking and searching for more. Before long, he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with ease. Your teeth click together, dragging across each other’s taste buds, while his hands grope you over your dress.

“Su…” you moan as he pulls away, and he tilts his head, eyes lidded.

“I have to get you out of here.” Suguru pulls you off the dance floor and out of the club, and you suppose everyone inside is much too occupied to see the two of you suddenly depart. You hang onto him as you exit the club into the crisp night air… much like the air the night you two met for the first time. He opens the door to his flashy two-seater, letting you slide inside before he presses the start button and pulls out of the parking lot. His right hand grips your thigh as he drives in silence, the only sound between you the revving of his car and the tires on the pavement. You want to explain, you want to address your feelings, but as Suguru strums his fingers along your bare leg to some unheard tune, all you can do is think about his lips on yours and the way he touches you.

#geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru

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9layerdevilfoodcake · 4 years

Text

Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

#Michael langdon x reader #Michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #far too much sarcasm

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

In the Stacks | Feysand

College students AU. Smut. Naughty, public smut that I dare you to read in a crowd.

Rhys was late to the study group. Feyre had been there for a half hour with Mor and Amren and was ready to strangle them both. The former had been mainlining energy drinks all afternoon and was now bouncing up and down in her chair, and the latter was alternating between snapping at Mor and muttering under her breath as she worked out equations out loud. This was especially unhelpful because Amren was doing an advanced course and having irrelevant equations being spoken aloud while Feyre barely understood the maths she was supposed to be doing was more than unhelpful.

Feyre was just about ready to give up when the boys finally clattered in, jerseys mud-stained and with testosterone rolling off them in waves.

"Relax ladies, we have arrived!" Cassian announced, throwing himself into a chair next to Mor. Azriel sat down on her other side, kicking his sports bag under the table. "Thirty-five minutes late," Amren growled. "Sorry, practice ran over." Rhys kissed Feyre on the cheek, then in one smooth motion lifted her, slid into her chair, and placed her back on his lap. He smelled of grass, fresh sweat, and Rhys.

"To be fair, the bat boys need all the practice they can get," Mor said, eyes flashing. "They're playing us next weekend and we are undefeated this season." "The Illyrian Bats will crush the Nightmare Queens," Cassian said. Mor just shrugged. "Hasn't happened yet," she said. "Yes, yes, you all play Lacrosse. Now sit down and be quiet, some of us are trying to work," Amren said. Feyre stared at her, the irony astounding. Amren didn't notice.

While Cassian and Azriel busied themselves pulling out books and laptops and pens, Rhys wrapped his arms around Feyre's middle and buried his nose in the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

"How was practice?" she asked him quietly. "It was good," he said, his lips moving against her. He nipped her earlobe, and then murmured, "Why do I always want you so bad when I've been working out?"

Feyre swatted him away. "Down boy," she said. "We're in public." Rhys sat back in the chair, and toyed with a curl that had come loose from Feyre's braid. "How's study going?" he asked her. "It's alright," Feyre said. "I like it better when you're here." Rhys kissed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry we were late." "It's okay. Maybe you can help me though, I've been stuck on this question for the last twenty minutes."

Rhys scooted the chair in closer to the desk, and looked over Feyre's shoulder at her open book. Under the table, his fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater.

"Let m be the slope of the tangent line to the graph of y equals x squared over x plus 2 at the point minus 3, minus 9. Express m as a limit," Rhys read out loud. Meanwhile, his nails scratched lightly over her belly, and Feyre leaned back into him instinctively.

"I don't get calculus," Feyre complained. "I've read the problem so many times it's just meaningless now." Rhys' hands smoothed over her thighs, and then clawed back upward. He squeezed her hips as he spoke.

"Okay this is not so bad. You got the previous question right, so you can get this one. You just need to substitute the new values into the same formula you used last time."

Now Rhys' hands were travelling back over her legs, his fingertips grazing Feyre's inner thighs. She shivered a little.

"I got it for the last question, but for some reason I can't repeat the process," she said. "Alright," said Rhys. "Give me your pencil and I'll write it out for you."

Feyre leaned forward and reached for her pencil case, and as she did, Rhys gripped her hips and rolled her over his lap. She was shocked to find him hard beneath her, and sat up in surprise.

Rhys plucked the pencil from her limp fingers.

"Thanks," he said. "Okay so, here look I'm copying this same formula, and the new values are substituted right here."

Rhys's voice was perfectly level. But while he wrote across the page, his free hand had snaked down between Feyre's legs. His fingers stroked down the seam of her leggings, then pulled back up slowly.

"What are you doing?" Feyre hissed at him. Rhys looked at her, his face innocent.

"Helping you with calculus," he said lightly. But his violet eyes burned. "Right so, since we know the coordinates are minus 3, minus 9, we can plug those straight in." Under the table, his fingers found the sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs, and rubbed against it.

Feyre's knees jolted up at the sensation, and hit the table. Four pairs of eyes looked up at her, and Rhys' fingers stopped.

"Are you alright, Feyre darling?" he asked, wide eyed. "Fine," Feyre forced out. "Shall I continue?" Feyre just nodded.

Cassian gave her a weird look, and then returned to the argument he was having with Mor and Azriel. Amren glared pointedly at her as she reached for her eraser, her writing having been jostled. Then she, too returned to her work, and Rhys started moving again. Moved his hand up and then inside her pants, hidden under the desk. Feyre bit the inside of her cheek and tried very hard to hold her expression still.

"Okay," Rhys said to her. His fingers slid down the hot, wet core of her. His voice remained level, but she could have sworn she felt him shudder slightly against her back. "So now the equation has all the information and we can solve it. Now you do the next question." He handed her the pencil, and it shook in her grip.

M = she started to write, then had to stop. Rhys's index finger was sliding very, very slowly up into her. She was horrified. She was delighted. She needed more.

Staring hard at the desk and trying not to go bright red, Feyre's hips rocked involuntarily. Seeking more, more, more.

"That's it," he said. "Keep going." His tone completely neutral, nodding toward the page.

Lim, she managed to write, the words now shaky on the paper. Then the pencil snapped clean in half, and Rhys very calmly reached out and picked up another. He pushed a second finger into her, and started to move them in and out. The heel of his palm leaned into her clit.

"They don't make pencils like they used to, do they?" Rhys said. "Here, try again."

Feyre reached out, but only got as far as putting her hand on his, and then her insides clenched and her nails dug into his palm.

"By the way Feyre, Azriel and I were talking about the party after the big match next week," Rhys said, a little too loudly. "What do you think? Are you going to come?" "Um," Feyre stuttered. "Don't you want to come, honey?"

The edges of Feyre's vision went black. Holy fuck, she thought. She was going to come, right here, in front of all of their friends.

All of a sudden, Rhys pulled his hand away and stood up. Feyre was tipped out of his lap, and her hands caught the table as her knees gave.

"Actually," Rhys said, "if you're struggling with calculus, I found the older text book much more helpful than the current one. Let me see if I can find it for you."

He took Feyre's hand and walked around the corner. She followed, dazed, and as soon as they were out of sight from the group Rhys picked up his pace. Half-dragged her all the way through the stacks, deep into the dark shelf maze, and then when they were far away enough from the rest of the students he spun her around and kissed her.

Feyre's back hit a shelf with a dull thud, and she twined her arms around Rhys' neck with a soft moan. She licked at his lips, and when their tongues touched Rhys lifted her up and hitched her legs around his waist. Feyre, so far past caring that they were still technically in a public space, grabbed at his lacrosse shorts, pulllng them down in the front. Rhys pushed his hips against her, and her hands found the ledge of the shelf behind her. He yanked her leggings down, and next thing she knew, he was inside of her.

Feyre bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Rhys' head fell onto her shoulder, and he let her adjust for a moment. Then they were moving, desperately, frantically. Pulling at each other's hair. Fucking in the stacks.

In what must have been record time, Feyre broke suddenly, her back arching and her head knocking against a row of books. She held on tightly to Rhys as her climax wrung her out, and then Rhys' hand hit the shelf beside her shoulder and he was coming, too.

In the dark, dusty space between the books, Rhys and Feyre breathed hard. Feyre laughed sliently, shaking in Rhys' arms. He grinned at her through the shadows, and used his undershirt to clean her up. Then he looked around them, made sure the coast was clear, and sauntered out, casual as anything.

Feyre squeezed his hand, following, and pulled a random book from the shelf. Rhys looked at her quizzically.

"Well we can't very well come back empty handed," she said, and Rhys laughed a lovely, dark and glittering laugh.

****

Just wanted to write you lovely things a fun little one-shot as a palette cleanser before I get deep into the next chapter fic. Hope you enjoyed the smut-fest my darlings x

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #acosf #oneshot #rhysand #mine

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mariamermaid · 4 years

Text

Confessions

Neville Longbottom x Hufflepuff reader

Summary: You start receiving small letters from an unknown writer, who confesses his feelings for you.

Words: 2.9k

A/N: Requested by anonymous: “Can you do a Neville Longbottom x hufflepuff reader where Neville confesses his feelings to the reader via letter. Thank you💗”

My dearest,

I must confess.

Time stood still and all you did was stare at the small note, you found in your notebook. Monday morning and knowingly, you had completely screwed up the exam the week before, your mood wasn´t the finest. You had noticed the pile of papers on Snapes desk immediately when entering, and very aware of what was to come, you couldn’t get more frustrated. Now two full lessons of talking about the exam and all the answers you had messed up, awaited you.

But things took a little turn for you; when opening your notebook, you found a small piece of paper, neatly folded once. The two bare sentences brought utterly confusion upon you, especially the missing signature. You also didn´t know who´s handwriting it was.

Snape hurried through the rows of students dreading what was about to come and slammed the exam on your table. You flinched at the sound, but didn´t bring your eyes up to stare at him.

Confess what?

Monday dragged along and even by the end of the day, where you found yourself more tired than ever crawling in your bed, you hadn´t made any progress in finding out who the sender was. Leanne and Hannah, your roommates found it amusing at first, your quietness had struck them by a similar surprise. But as the three of you followed your bedtime routine, that you usually spent to catch up, they started to worry.

“It´s nothing”, you assured them, not wanting to talk about the note quiet yet. It wasn´t anything, you told yourself. Two sentences, barely at last, it didn´t mean anything. Maybe it wasn´t even meant for you.

Thursday afternoon; you offered tutoring to some of the younger students in the library. Spencer, a ridiculous hyper Gryffindor student, who had problems with focusing, slid back and forth on his chair. After two months of tutoring him, you were already used to him.

“Try to write this paragraph on your own and remember your key notes, I´ll check it then”, you explained to him and he nodded quickly. But after two minutes of him frantically writing, he turned the page in his book and stopped abruptly. You looked up from your own book about vanishing spells, to find Spencer with a small note in his hands. He looked confused on the piece of paper, until you took it from him. It looked identical to…

Lately, things have changed.

It is undeniable for me anymore.

You took the note, hiding it away. How did it end up in Spencer´s textbook? Trying to hide your blush at best, you advised Spencer to continue, but later on, you took his paper with you. You had to proofread it in quietness, not with that new note on your mind. When hurrying out of the library, you stumbled right into Neville. “Y/n sorry-“

“Don´t worry about it, it was my fault, but I have to go. See you around Neville!” You exclaimed quickly, rearranging the papers and books in your arms and then hurrying off. You cursed at yourself for running into Neville, he was a close friend of yours, but with a riddle to solve and a heart beating too loud, you left the library. Neville watched you leave, his eyes not leaving your figure and the ever-smallest hint of a smile crawled upon his lips. Maybe his idea wasn´t too bad after all.

Even when reaching your room, which luckily was still empty at that time, you felt the beating inside your chest, the enormous heat in your cheeks and your shivering hands holding onto the note. After re-reading the first and now second note, which very clearly belonged to the same person, you sighed heavily. It was useless, with as little information you were offered, it could be anybody. You let yourself fall onto the bed, eyes on the ceiling. The only safe conclusion was, that you had an admirer. With that thought, a warm bevy of butterflies floated through your stomach, until the smile had reached your face as well.

A week passed and as much as you denied it, you were fairly disappointed to not have received a new note. It felt like a letter forming and yet, there wasn´t a minute where you didn´t think about those words. It was Saturday and with Leanne and Hannah at your side, you found yourself in the seated rows of the Hufflepuff tower on the Quidditch pitch. The game was Hufflepuff against Gryffindor and for the first time this week, your mind was finally focused on something else. The three of you yelled and rooted for your team with the scores level at the time. Then the two teams agreed upon a little break to discuss strategies and while Leanne went off to grab some more popcorn, you and Hannah chit-chatted about your week. “Has it started yet? Did I miss something?” Leanne asked nervously as she sat back down. Hannah shook her head.

“No, they´re just taking their positions again”, she explained and threw a hand of the caramelized popcorn down her throat. You nodded agreeing and as you leaned forward to grab some of the delicious sweets as well, you noticed a white strip of paper in your shoe. Madame Hooch refereed and the game continued. It gave you enough time to grab some popcorn and then the note, which was carefully stuck to the side slide of your shoe. Leaning back and to the side, your friends were too focused anyways, you quickly read the note. Again, your heart beat had risen.

It´s lingering in the air

I´ve noticed it since the early spring

Can you smell it too?

You groaned and funnily enough, so did the rest of the Hufflepuff supporter team, Gryffindor had just caught the golden snitch. At least you didn´t attract attention with your down mood.

Your anonymous writer didn´t give anything away. And by Merlin´s beard, how did you not noticed that the note was stuck in your very own show?

Gloomy, the three of you left the tower and made your way back to the castle, while the Gryffindor team celebrated their success. “Y/N!”

You quickly spun around; Neville ran towards you and your heart dropped a little again. Leanne and Hannah shrugged and left you behind with Neville.

“Congratulations, Neville!”, you exclaimed sounding still a little down. Neville smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Thanks, don´t worry, you´re up against Ravenclaw next weekend, I´m sure you´ll beat them!”

Softly smiling, you nodded. “Yeah, better luck next time, hm?”

He furrowed his brows, a little confused looking. “Are you okay though?”

“Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

“You´re still coming to the party tonight? C´mon you´re not a bad looser like Slytherin, are you?”

You couldn´t help but let out a chuckle as well. “No, I´m definitely coming.”

Hannah was still pouting when you entered the party only hours later and you nudged her side.

“Stop it, you´ll ruin the ambiance.”

“You´re one to talk, one second you´re happily dancing in the bathroom and in the next all you do is stare out the window!” Now, you punched her shoulder a little harder.

“I have not the slightest idea what you´re talking about!”

“Y/n!” Two, tall and identical looking red-heads approached you. “You need to lighten up a little, how about a drink? Hannah how about you?”

Hannah shook her head quickly and rushed away in the crowd, leaving you behind. She feared that certain things would reoccur and the ending in the bathroom, wasn’t pleasant for her. You shrugged. “Maybe you´re right and I need a drink.”

The Weasley twins grinned and led you off to the side while grabbing three cups. After taking a few sips and catching up, they grinned knowingly.

“So, tell us, which boy has bewitched your mind?”

You almost spit out your drink, how did they know?

“Pardon me?” George grinned innocently.

“Oh, you know, Leanne has been telling us that you receive love letters.” You rolled your eyes; Leanne was too big of a blabbermouth for her own good. Or?

What if they lied and knew who the sender was? Or was it one of them?

You eyed George and Fred suspiciously, but there was no way it was either one of them. They could´ve never stayed so serious and eager to know, without giggling like little girls.

“They´re not love letters, they´re-“, you sighed and paused. “I don´t know what they are.”

Their eyes grew big and they nodded interested. “And do you have a guess who it is?”

You shook your head. “Not the slightest. But you two dare to talk about this, I´ll make sure your mother hears about the list of your latest pranks!”

Quickly, they shook their heads, fear in their eyes. “Nope, but maybe we´ll notice someone and then we´ll tell you!” George added, but then Ron and Harry entered the party. The twins shrugged, patted your back and left you alone again.

Truly, you believed them. Their general interest and curiosity wasn´t new.

The party was good and yet, your tune wasn´t right for the night. Instead of being a killjoy, you decided to leave rather early. As you made your way through the crowd towards the exit, shrugging apologetically at your friends, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Are you already leaving?” You looked up to find Neville´s tall figure hovering above you. In your first year, you had been taller than him, but in the third he caught up. He seemed worried, but you offered him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I´m not really feeling it.”

He nodded understanding and for the first time this evening, your decision wasn´t questioned. “I´ll walk you back.”

The two of you left the room and suddenly the halls went quiet. It was hard to imagine that only a wall ahead, a full party was happening. “I do know the way back though.”

Neville chuckled. “I know, I´m just making sure Filch won´t caught you.”

For a while you two walked in silence, stopping from time to time to listen if anyone was approaching. No one was though. “You seem distracted lately”, Neville spoke up again, watching your reaction. “Is it that obvious?”

He shrugged, but continued nodding. You reached the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“You know you can always talk to me”, Neville explained calmy and you thanked him quietly, he was always at your side when you needed him. With him you never felt awkward or unwanted.

“Yeah, I´m just not sure if I´m ready yet.”

“Don´t worry, I´ll wait.” Neville turned around, leaving you in front of the entrance. You watched as his figure disappeared and just as you began to wonder, if he was…

Cedric Diggory appeared from a dark corner and with quick steps, he pulled you into the common room. “Cedric? What´s going on?”

He seemed out of breath, cheeks a little heated, but that might have been the fire whiskey in his breath. “Filch was following me!” He exclaimed, while getting his breath back.

Cedric was an admirable school mate of yours, two classes above and known to make a girl´s heart swoon. Just know you realized that his hand was still holding onto your arm, quickly he let go.

“Sorry”, he mumbled and the blush crept back on his cheeks. “You shouldn´t be, you probably saved me from Filch.”

He let out a soft laughter. “What were you doing out anyways?”

“I wasn´t in a party mood today and Ne-“, you stopped mid-sentence, not wanting to give anything away. “And I decided to leave early.” He nodded. “Agreed, after messing up the game, I wasn´t feeling it either.”

He smiled again. “At least I could save you from Filch, even though we lost the game”, he paused and you were unsure of what was to come.

“Well, you know what they say; Unlucky at cards, lucky in love.”

For the second time this evening you were left standing and wondering. Could it be Cedric?

You shook your head; Cedric was older than you and you didn´t have any classes together. But could it still be him?

Finally, you could wander off to your bed, but as you brushed off the clothes that smelled like sweat and liquor, you found another note.

My dearest,

I must confess, you´re much dearer and essential to me than you know of.

Yet, I can´t bear the thought of showing my face.

You almost let out a scream as you read it. But then, as you recalled the evening, you began to question everything again. First, you had thought, it must have been Cedric. He was the last one to be close enough to secretly give you the note. But then again Neville, or even the twins. Actually, the room of Gryffindors was crowded and you had just noticed the letter. As a sad conclusion; you still didn´t have the slightest idea.

Just before your eyes finally closed, a last breakthrough formed in your mind. On Monday morning in potions class, you would put a note in your book. If the secret writer were to use the same spot again, he would surely find it.

Who are you?

Monday came and Monday left, Snape had announced a group project, which would be included in your final grade. Consequently, the note escaped your mind and you focused on the new project, which would be hard enough. But then on Wednesday, where you and your group of schoolmates continued working on the project, you opened the potions book again. The note was gone. You grinned to yourself; the plan had worked. On Thursday, you found yourself outside. The weather was just lovely and Spencer enjoyed the fresh air on his tutoring lessons as well. However, the note you found that day, came with your very own owl. The soft gray creature curred as you took the letter and patted her head.

As the flowers begin to blossom and the sweet smell of the cherry trees lingers in the air,

The roses in the green houses are growing and white lily petals are showing,

They won´t be there for long and yet they´re longing

To be like you; the most beautiful flower to be blooming.

You do know me, can´t you guess?

Spencer lurked over your shoulder, but you quickly hid away the letter and you gaze wandered over the trees.

“Do you not know who it´s from?” Spencer finally asked very carefully and you shrugged mindlessly. “But it´s your owl, isn´t it?” You nodded again.

“And how would that person send a letter with your owl?”

The rationale rolled over you and hit you like a wave. “Spencer, I have to go, just give me your homework tomorrow when you´re finished!” You jumped on your legs and immediately started running towards the Owlery. You felt as finally having a chance in finding out who he was and your heart was pounding inside your chest as you reached the small tower. The stone steps were old and ivy lingered in the crevices. The inside of the Owlery was always cold, which was quite pleasant in the hot burning summer days. Wind howled on the inside, but besides your feathered friends, it was empty. Despondent, you left.

You felt like such a fool, you didn´t know who it was and having to face yet another failure, you truly felt stupid. Glumly, you walked back but then you heard a crash coming from the greenhouses. You saw the silhouette of a person working inside and began to wonder.

As the flowers begin to blossom and the sweet smell of the cherry trees lingers in the air,

The roses in the green houses are growing and white lily petals are showing,

You repeated the words in your mind; who would write such sweet and graceful words in the metaphor of the absolute purest things; flowers. Who loved plants so much, they hid behind the green leaves in order to not be seen? Finally, you smiled again.

“Neville?”

He looked up from the pot, that had slipped out of his hands only seconds before.

“Y/n.”

You both starred at each other for several minutes, not knowing how to begin. It was Neville, he had been all along. Who else shared the potion class with you and who knew about your typical spots when tutoring Spencer? Who didn´t play in any Quidditch and therefore had enough time to sneak beneath the sitting benches?

“I think I need to confess something”, Neville finally spoke up and a deep blush crept upon his cheeks.

“I think you already did, in the most beautiful words.” A small smile played on his lips and you stepped closer. “I´m sorry, it took some time to figure it out.”

Neville laughed softly and scratched his neck. “I almost regretted sending them, good thing you found me before I´d had a chance to stop.”

You joined in with laughter. “No matter, I wouldn´t have stopped looking for you.”

Carefully, he grabbed your waist to pull you closer and you felt the tips of your noses touching. “You have no idea, how long I waited for this”, he whispered and you felt his warm breath on your skin. “Well, what are you waiting for then?”

Neville leaned down, pressing his lips softly onto yours and you gave into his welcoming touch. When you parted again, he simply starred at you.

“You´re truly the most beautiful flower I´ve ever seen.”

#neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom oneshot #neville longbottom x reader #matthew lewis #harry potter imagine #mariamermaidimagine

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renjunfromthestars · 4 years

Text

more than

Pairing: Mark + reader, Bestfriend! Mark, Childhood friend!Mark

Genre: Fluff, angst, honestly a little bit of crack LOL

Song recs: Best friend + Untitled + Waiting Room (Rex Orange County), Sofia (Clario)

Warnings: Mild swearing and mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 7.0k (my longest fic yet, wow!)

Summary: You’ve known Mark for all your life, and it only takes one drunken night (plus a little intervention with Haehcan) to think that you wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better...

Notes: The fact that I actually had the patience to sit down and to write something above 3k words,,,,absolutely astounding, amazing, unique, never been seen before…. Mark is a little awk and always works so hard (poor bby), so imagining him as a super stressed pre-med major and oblivious best friend absolutely wrecks me thank you goodbye

----

When you first meet Mark, you’re eight years old, and it’s at church. He’s dressed in his Sunday best: a light blue button up, khakis, and shiny dress shoes. He looks stiff as your mother introduces you two, with his shirt buttoned all the way to the collar.

It’s not that you dislike him, but you think he might dislike you, with the way he avoids eye contact, eyes tracing the floor, your shoes—anywhere but your face.

You see panic flash through his eyes when his mom gently pushes him towards you, telling him to take you inside and reserve a spot in the pews while she catches up with your mom.

He shuffles awkwardly, and wordlessly, you follow him into the building.

The pews are almost empty, with the bulk of them being filled in the front by the old people that usually have nothing better to do on their Sunday mornings. Although your local church is on the smaller side, it feels unusually large with rows of empty pews, almost eerie. You shudder at shadows the walls make with the stained glass, and hurry to your usual spot towards the middle.

If Mark notices your apprehension, he doesn’t say anything. He’s oblivious, actually, not noticing your absence until he’s almost at the end of the rows. When you see him stop and search for you frantically, you stifle a laugh.

He eventually finds you, and after shuffling awkwardly between the pews, makes his way to you.

“This is kinda far, isn’t it?” he murmurs.

“Huh?”

“I mean,” he stammers. “I usually sit closer to the front. ”

You peer at him from the side. “You actually want to pay attention?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Well yeah, isn’t that the point?”

“I guess,” you say, looking at the ceiling. With the sprawling arches and patterns, the designs are pretty, you think.

“You should at least try, it’s kinda interesting,” when you turn your head to look at him he turns away. “Only if you want to, of course.” he adds, fidgeting with his hands.

When you tell him that maybe you will, you see him crack a small smile.

It becomes a routine, almost every Sunday, with you and Mark sitting next to each other. Whether it’s closer to the front or the back, it’s a whole debate. You usually give in, because when you walk in, Mark is already waiting for you in the front.

….

“Do you still go to Church?”

You’re laying on a green bean bag in Mark’s dorm room, procrastinating on the midterm paper you were supposed to get started on, well, a week ago.

You think for a second, hand raised to rub your chin, just to tease him. “What’s church?”

“C'mon dude, are you serious?”

“Barely,” you say, standing up to move to sit on his bed. “You should really get a new bean bag, it’s kinda deflated.”

Mark ignoring you, reaches over from his desk to fluff up the bean bag. “It’s because you sit on it so much.”

“Are you calling me fat?” and before he can defend himself you finally answer him, “I stopped going in like, middle school. It would be hard even if I wanted to, to find a whole new congregation, and I’m just busy. Also, it’s so boring, I could cry.”

Mark perks up. “Not if you go with me.”

You groan dramatically, and Mark chuckles.

“Good to know that you haven’t changed since you were eight.”

It’s just your view on church, that hasn’t changed since you were eight. First thing things first, you were 19 now, going on twenty. You’re in University now, your second year. It’s been a blur assignments, partying, coffee and term papers- you don’t have time to think about anything else right now. Except maybe actually starting your paper but-

Mark interrupts you midthought, breaking the silence. “Are you still with that guy?”

“Huh? Who? Yuta?”

“Yeah,” Mark responds sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

You roll your eyes. “No, we haven’t been together for a while. It wasn’t that important so I forgot to tell you.”

You can tell he's surprised about how unusually calm you are for talking about your first serious breakup, but he doesn’t say anything, instead just scratching the back of his head awkwardly in typical Mark fashion. “He was an asshole anyway,” Mark murmurs.

“What did you say?” you ask, acting shocked. “Mark Lee? Talking shit?”

Mark, embarrassed, refuses to repeat it.

“I’m just saying, he wasn’t the right person for you.” he protests.

“As opposed to who? God himself?”

“I can think of a few,” he sighs, but you aren’t paying attention, instead laughing your ass off on his bed.

“You’re insufferable,” he says, standing up to open the door. “C’mon let’s go, I’m hungry. I know you’re not starting that paper anytime soon.”

…

It’s a routine, seeing Mark on Monday afternoons for lunch. Not Friday, because you were busy getting wasted, and consequently not Saturday, because you were too hungover. Not Sunday, because Mark had church, and you, well, were busy praying to God that you would be able to finish all the work you’d neglected over the weekend as a result.

“I still don’t understand why you choose the worst day of the week for this,” you say over your Kale caesar salad, pushing the leaves around aggressively. The University had a lot of healthy options, which you were grateful for. Grateful for you were not, were for the student loans you had to pay off every month, the exorbitant amount you partially owed to all the local and expensive organic produce the meal plan featured for the sake of being sustainable and health conscious.You could really give a rat’s ass about whether your salad was organic or not; if your weekends said anything about you, no amount of kale could help you (or your liver).

“It wasn’t really up to me,” Mark points out. “Maybe if you weren’t too busy being-”

“Ta ta ta,” you tsk, waving a finger around. “I, unlike you, actually have a social life.”

Mark frowns. “I have a social life.”

Mark definitely had a social life. He was popular, even. As popular as you can be, being a preoccupied Pre-med with perfect grades. Mark is likeable. It’s not like he doesn’t have the opportunity to go on weekends if wanted to, he just chooses not to, deciding to slave away at biological functions, orbitals, and lab results instead. Even now, as he takes his glasses off to clean them, you notice the imprint they leave on his face from how long they’ve been sitting on his face, and doesn’t take you long to find the dark circles that grace the skin under his eyes: he’s exhausted.

You frown too. “You should really get out more Mark. You seem stressed.”

Mark gives you a small smile after putting his glasses back on, and then resumes typing on his laptop. “I don’t know how going out would make me less stressed,” he says, distracted. “I would only be more stressed, knowing the work I have to do.”

“Yeah, but you're pretty organized.” You point your fork at him accusingly, kale falling to the side. “Don’t you usually finish things early too?”

“Yeah, I do.” he admits, and before you can press onwards you’re interrupted by a girl you recognize to be his lab partner.

Goggles in hand, you can see the marks they leave around her eye area, but she’s somehow still annoyingly beautiful, with her glossy straight hair and long eyelashes, but that’s not why you dislike her. She might be the most stuck up girl you’ve ever met.

“Did you do the calculations yet?” she says, turning to Mark. ignoring you. It’s only when you cough in your seat that she turns to you. “And hello, (y/n).” An afterthought.

“Hello Yebin,” You give her a wry smile. “How's the lab?”

“The usual.” she glances at Mark, who seems to be doing some finishing touches on said calculations. “How’s Chem 2?”

Boy, does she really grind your gears.

“It was fine, I actually placed out because I took it in high school.” Not to mention, it was a class for freshmen, and you were in fact, now a sophomore.

Before she can say anything back, Mark claps his hands in celebration. “Done! Sorry it took me so long, I just had to double check some things.”

“It’s no problem,” and with the way her voice drips with a sickly sweetness, you want to gag. It’s so painfully obvious. “Are you still down for tomorrow?”

Poor Mark, always oblivious, stops typing on his laptop and looks up in confusion. “Huh?”

You silently laugh at the expression Yebin makes when she realizes Mark has no idea what she’s talking about. “For our study session? The MCAT is just months away.”she reminds him.

Mark remembers. “Oh yeah, about that, I was thinking we could also invite-”

“Great!” she chirps, “See you tomorrow!” and with a flash of her white lab coat, she's gone.

Mark scratches the back of his head. “I guess she had somewhere to be.”

You roll your eyes for what it seems like the 100th time this week, anymore and they might be permanently stuck to the back of your head. “She definitely likes you.”

“Who? Yebin? No way.”

“Yes, Yebin, and yes way.” You fling a walnut from your salad over to his side, and he cringes.

“What is your problem?” he grumbles, and resumes typing on his laptop.

You drop the subject, because you know any talk on girls is completely lost on him. As you set aside your salad, you peer over at Mark, palm supporting your face. He’s focused, eyebrows slightly furrowed, with his lips mouthing over silently whatever science journal he was reading on his computer screen.

Mark has always been good looking, you think. You don’t know why you’ve never really noticed it before. His nose bridge gently slopes over his face, and his jawline is sharp, having lost his baby cheeks years ago. He works out often too, although he barely talks about it (maybe out of fear you’d tease him for being a gym bro). And with the way he’s so adorably awkward, It’s no surprise really, that every girl friend that you’ve met of his seems to be completely smitten.

Shaking your head, you snap out of it. It’s dangerous to think of Mark that way, you think. You’ve known him too long.

“My problem? I think you’re the one with the problem here. I’m surprised your hair isn't completely gray by now.”

Mark ignores you, probably mad at the fact you tried to start world food war three with him with a walnut.

“Hey.” you flick at his forehead to get his attention, and he flinches.

“There’s a party this weekend at Johnny’s fraternity, you should come.” Johnny, being both your long time mutual friend (who’s demeanor is way too nice to fit the stereotypical frat boy image, really) who has since stopped asking Mark out of respect for his “med school grind”.

“I’m already planning on it,” he responds, and you’re surprised.

“Since when do you actually accept party invitations?”

“Since yesterday, because I’m tired of Haechan bothering me about it.”

You silently cheer, of course, you expect nothing else from Haechan.

…

“I never knew it was so hard to get booze.”

“It’s not hard if you’re 21.”

Scoffing, you turn your head to face the boy across from you. As if he can feel the burn of your gaze on his forehead, Haechan stops typing on his Macbook and lifts his eyes to meet yours.

“No shit Sherlock, but last time I checked, we both weren’t 21.”

The sun had set a half an hour ago, and despite having spent the whole afternoon together, you and Haechan have had yet to come up with a way to secure the drinks you promised your friends for tonight’s pregame. With both of you being certified schemers representing your respective friends, you guess it wasn’t that big of surprise that the responsibility was left on both your shoulders. It beat scavenging alone, and spending time with Haechan wasn’t so bad either, when you two weren’t trying to kill each other.

It was already late, and Haechan had deemed Ubering to the nearest packer store that sold Soju (the sweet sweet liquid of choice) was too much work. You on the other hand, had dismissed that option for a completely different reason. The issue in question was the flimsy, borderline pathetic excuse for a fake ID Haechan planned to use at the packer store.

“Hey it works!” he protested. “You just act like you’re already legal and they don’t even card you. Easy.”

You roll your eyes as Haechan theatrically reenacts his last trip to the packer store.

“I asked him how he was doing, and he told me school sucks. I say to him, ‘Tell me about it, thank god this is my last year!” and as if to emphasize his next point, he flicks his wrist in the air, ID snuggled between his index and middle finger. “And I was on my way. No issue at all.”

“That’s because he didn’t even see your fake I.D stupid. He would’ve called you out on your bullshit in an instant.”

Out of all the different options available, you could not fathom why he chose his fake ID to show that from all the places in this world, he was from freaking Hong Kong. There were fifty states to choose from, other English speaking countries, and he chose to pose as an international student on a student visa. He could most definitely look the part, but after looking at the ID he proudly slaps on the common room lounge desk, you deadpan. The yellowish tint to the card was way too suspicious to be taken seriously.

“I wish we could just ask Mark,” you sigh, and Haechan looks at you like you’re stupid.

“He’s 20, ya dimwit.”

“I know, that’s why I said I wish. You have serious hearing problems.”

Haechan stops typing on his laptop to shoot you an especially heated glare, and you’re reminded again why he’s #2 on your fight list, right above Yebin. First place was taken by the girl you almost actually fought at that one University party a town over, wherever she is you hope she’s having a terrible day.

“If it were not for the rules of this land, you’d be dead right now Haechan.”

Haechan places his head in his palms, and flutters his eyelashes disgustingly.

“But you love me.”

“Yes, as much as Mark loves social events. Speaking of Mark, how on earth did you get him to leave his cave?”

“It didn’t take much,” and before you can call him out for lying, he shushes you.

“Okay, maybe a few days of nonstop begging.” Haechan says as his eyes dart across the laptop screen. You raise your eyebrow. “And I might have threatened to release pictures from the photoshoot his mom made him take when he was younger.”

“I expected nothing less from your evil, evil, mind.”

He scoffs. “Hardly. Just resourceful.”

Resourceful he is, because Haechan is the one who ends up finding a plug for the alcohol that night.

…

A can of four loko, a bottle of soju, and a few shots later, you should be hammered, wasted even. But after 14 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days into college, your tolerance is pretty high, so you’re really just plain drunk. Even so, you’re a little messy (no surprise). You’re not in a state to be trusted with any errands, so you don’t understand why Haechan asks you to pick up Mark along the way to Johnny’s fraternity.

“Why do I have to do it?” you whine, putting your hand over your forehead, and Haechan only laughs at your dramatic display of despair.

“Because Johnny messaged me that Mark isn’t there, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him flake on me this time. ”

You point a finger at him, and he stifles a snort when you’re off by a couple inches. “Letting him flake on me, me, me as in you! It’s not my problem.”

But there’s no use in arguing with Haechan, and you know it. That’s why you find yourself stomping your way up the second floor of Mark’s dormitory like you’re in elementary school again, having just been scolded by your mom and being forced back into your room.

You knock at his door impatiently, and it feels like forever until you hear some shuffling, and see the door knob twist open. To be honest, it’s probably just a few seconds, but time is different when you’re intoxicated.

Before you even see him, it smells faintly of shampoo and detergent, so you’re not surprised when he opens the door and you see his hair is still half wet from the shower. He’s definitely party ready, and when you mean party ready, he’s wearing the same loose black tee and grey joggers he wears to sleep. His socks don’t match and you try not to laugh, because it would be a bad look for you, to show up intoxicated, and apparently crazy.

“Oh (y/n), what are you doing here? Oh shit is today Friday? I totally forgot, Haechan is going to kill me-'' He looks at you and then pauses, scrunching up his nose. “Have you been drinking?”

“No.” you say sarcastically, but it definitely falls short of Mark because he looks at you like he does not believe you. Good, because he shouldn’t.

He sighs, and ushers you in his room. It’s dark, with the only light emitting from the little steel lamp on his desk, which is covered with his notes, pencils, a textbook, and some highlighters. When you finally make your way to his bed (with difficulty) he sighs again, and you silently scold yourself for having that mini drinking contest with Haechan. If you thought you could handle your alcohol well, Haechan was an absolute monster.

You nearly screech when Mark flashes a mini flashlight in your face, and he tells you to calm down before someone thinks he’s committing murder. He holds your face still with his index finger resting on your cheek and his thumb lifting your chin. You try your best not to squint when he tells you to, instead focusing on his face. He’s so close, you can feel his warm breath on your face. If you weren’t already so flushed from drinking, you suspect you’d look beet red now.

“Well, your pupils still dilate normally, so I don’t think you have alcohol poisoning-”

The world is moving a little, so you plop backwards on his bed— albeit a little harder than expected because he rushes over to you and looks concerned.

“-but I don’t think that’s the problem here.” he finishes.

Your eyes are closed, mainly because his bed is really comfy. “I’m here to pick you up.” and as if to emphasize your point, you wildly start pointing in all directions, hoping it would land on him.

You open your eyes when you feel him grab your finger and turn it thirty degrees to the left, just stopping at his chest. Your sense of direction must be really bad, because it turns out you were pointing at nothing.

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere for awhile”

“Noooooo” you wail, and Mark lets go of your hand to sit back down on his desk, and unsurprisingly, begins reading his textbook again. How he is able to focus with you in the background, you don’t know, but it must have taken years of practice.

At this point, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You shove yourself off the bed and grab his arms from behind him. His roller chair scoots a few inches before he stops it.

“You’re not exactly making great case for yourself here”

“Stop making excuses!”

You aim straight towards the armpits, and you’re confused at the lack of reaction, so you reach over to squeeze his knee. Almost immediately, he crumples over, almost falling off the chair.

“Can you-” he says mid laugh, “please” he gasps, “Stop that!”

You respond by attacking his other knee, and it’s over. He falls off his chair and you go down with him. The difference is that he recovers quickly, and starts tickling you back in revenge.

You’re sensitive, so it feels like you’re dying. You try to use his arm as leverage to push yourself up, but next thing you know he’s toppeling over you. You close your eyes and wait for your head to kiss the cold hard floor but it never comes, because Mark's hand cradles your head, breaking the fall.

When you open your eyes, he’s closer than ever before, noses touching. Lips a mere centimetres away and in a weird embrace, you resist the urge to close the distance.

Mark has always been good looking, especially now, so close to you. You don’t know why you’ve never noticed it before.

When he pulls away he’s flustered, and for the first time, so are you.

It’s an awkward silence, with you still on the floor as he stands up, rubbing the dusk from his knees. He scratches the back of his head and offers you a hand

“Let’s head out,” he says.

“Yeah, let’s.” you echo.

…

Although Haechan berates you for being more than a little late to the party, he’s overjoyed that you somehow managed to show up with Mark. Not that he didn’t have faith in you anyways, he tells you. It’s just that Mark is married to his Biology textbook, and she runs a tight ship. By the time you reached the frat with Mark, you’ve sobered up enough to enjoy yourself normally,

It’s when you wake up in the morning, that you’re not okay. It’s not okay, because you dreamt of Mark, and that’s weird, because you and Mark were just friends, right? And you always will be.

It’s not a big deal because friends dream of friends. Dreams are a product of your own desires environment, you tell yourself, it’s perfectly normal because you spend so much time with him.

What is not normal, is when you see Mark the following Monday, and are worried about it. You’re nervous the whole time, and it gets worse when you slide the little watermelon filled tupperware container across the table in apology for last Friday. He likes his watermelon cut up into little cubes, you remembered (why do you remember?), and you avoid his eyes, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your face.

Mark, oblivious as usual, doesn’t really notice anything until 10 minutes in, as if your lack of rambling surprises him. Munching on the cubes, he asks if you’re okay.

“Yeah, I am.”

No you are not. You are utterly fucked.

…

“But you need to promise me you won’t judge or make fun of me for it”

“Just say it already, Jesus.”

“It’s just so embarrassing.”

“Oh my god, are you in love with me?”

“No!”

When placing your hands in your face, Haechan grants mercy on you, patting you on the back instead of teasing you further.

“I don’t know what else could be so important that you need to talk to me in person. Unless…. it’s about Mark?”

His hands stop soothingly rubbing your back and instead starts slapping it, waiting for you to laugh along with him. When he doesn’t get a response he gasps. Turning his head sideways to face you, he pries your fingers apart.

“No fucking way.”

“Right?” you moan.

“I was just joking, but I can’t say I didn’t expect it.”

You remove your hands from your face and look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Like, you’ve known each other forever. You spend a lot of time together too. Someone was bound to catch feelings eventually.”

You don’t respond, instead choosing to sulk.

“You know I’m right. You just don’t want to admit it because you’re the loser in this situation.”

Right he is, because you’ve been avoiding Mark for the past few weeks like the plague. You’ve told him that you’ve been busy with your final term paper (you’re not, you’re an engineering major why would you have one?), and although he was a little confused, he was probably also a little thankful because the MCAT was only a month away.

As you tell him about your plight, Haechan listens thoughtfully, “mhming” and “ahh-ing” at all the right places.

“I don’t see how ignoring him helps you at all. I would say to just talk to him about it, but it’s Mark, he probably hasn’t thought about you that way at all.”

“Thanks,” you grumble. “So I’m basically one of the boys.”

“No really, mans might as well be the anemone from Nemo, I’ve never seen him interested in anyone.” Haechan sighs. “This is a tough one.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something, but I might have to get creative.”

“I’d like to see you try Hyuck.”

…

It’s 9pm Sunday night, and there’s a knock on your door. It’s strange you think, because it’s a Sunday, and it’s a little late to be doing anything.

When you open the door, there he is, Mark Lee in all his 5’9’ glory, with a little bag in hand, in it your favorite milk tea.

“It’s Sunday.” you say, intelligently.

Mark just chuckles. “Yes it is, and your point?”

You step aside so he can walk in, and you’re embarrassed at your current state. For once, you’ve finished your assignments early, so you’ve spent the past four hours in your pajamas watching K-dramas and snacking on honey chips. You must look like a bum.

Mark on the other hand, always looks good, even in some old dress slacks, and an old t-shirt with some holes in it. He smells faintly of antiseptic, so he must have just come from a volunteering shift at the hospital.

“It’s nice of you to drop by,” you poke the straw into the bubble tea. “And thank you for the bubble tea.”

“You’ve been busy recently so I figured you’d need it for the caffeine content, but it’s not like you sleep anyway.” he jokes. “How’s the term paper going?”

“The term paper? Oh right, the term paper. It’s alright,” you lie. “Just a couple of pages left. Beats having to take the MCAT though.”

Mark looks tired, with his hair slightly overgrown and his dark circles hallower than usual. You feel bad—he has a habit of overworking himself; you’re usually there to check on him but lately you haven’t, and he’s kind and thoughtfull enough to bring you something because he thinks you’re stressed.

“Yeah tell me about it,” Mark takes a seat next to you on your bed, head hitting the wall with a soft thump. “It’s going to be all over next week though, I can’t wait. I’ve missed you though.”

Busy silently cursing at yourself for the way your heart flutters at his admission, you forget to respond. Mark frowns, places his hand on your thigh in an attempt to soothe you, and it has the opposite effect—you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

“Is something wrong?”

“N-no.” you stammer. “Just stressed. ”

Mark makes things worse by leaning in closer, gently placing the back of his hand on your forehead. “You’re kinda hot.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, like I think you may be running a fever.”

He hops off the bed, and rummages around in his little black bag, and pulls out a thermometer. He places a little sleeve on the end, and motions for you to open your mouth. When it beeps, he takes it out of your mouth and looks at the result.

“Your temperature is fine, but you should rest. I’ll see you soon okay?” He pats your head. “Take it easy, I know you’ll do great.”

…

You might not have a term paper, but what you do have is a physics final.

The desk area is littered with eraser dust, crumpled paper, and half filled styrofoam cups of coffee that have since gotten stale. You swear to god that Physics was a subject meant to torture, not enrich the lives of college students. At this rate, you were seriously debating dropping out to become a stripper.

Haechan, not sensing your dismay, disrupts your plans to drop out by telling you something that puts a damper on the rest of your day, as if Physics wasn’t doing that already.

“Have you noticed that Mark’s been hanging out a lot with that one girl lately? What’s her name? So-bin, Yee-ben, Ben 10, ”

“Yebin,” you snap. “And don’t ever disrespect Ben 10 like that again. ”

Haechan lifts his hands up, “ I agree she’s a total bitch, but man is she hot.”

“Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better, not worse?”

Haechan’s face softens and for once in his life, looks a little sorry. “All I’m saying is if you don’t do something soon, someone might do it for you. I overheard her saying something about her and Mark going to spring fling together.”

He’s not wrong, but Mark, at Spring fling? At a Darty? Willingly? His idea of a good time was studying.

“You’re kidding,” you scoff. “As if he’d be caught dead at something like that.”

“I don’t know (y/n). He doesn’t really have much else to do now that the MCAT is over.”

Right, the MCAT. He took it last week. You mentally slap yourself for not asking how it went.

“Speak of the devil.” Haechan says quietly, motioning behind you.

There she is through the glass, Yebin, pulling a seat next to Mark, not before sneaking up behind him and planting a fat kiss right on his cheek.

…

Maybe if this were a movie, you’d cry all weekend and he’d make it up to you; But this is real life, so you secretly cry for a week and sulk for the rest of the month, blaming your puffy eyes on seasonal allergies (In real life, Mark can’t make it up to you because he did nothing wrong. He’s also not even aware that you like him, but that’s besides the point).

Despite Haechan’s attempt to convince you that it could’ve been just a friendly kiss, a greeting kiss, a whatever kiss, you insist that you’re done with your little crush, that it had shriveled up and died. Although not so convinced, Haechan drops the subject all together and instead resorts to comforting you in his own way, which mainly just consists of making fun of you about other things.

Mark is a touchy subject, and you’re still avoiding him. Why? You don’t really know. You know it’s not fair to Mark, who is probably very hurt and confused at your lack of communication. Nonetheless, he doesn’t question it, and is so infuriatingly mature with his emotions that you suspect that he even respects it, because he stops texting you after a while.

You feel bad about stonewalling him, leaving him in the dark, but really, what would you say to him?

“Sorry-I-haven’t-been-talking-to-you-it’s-just-that-I’m-in-love-with-you-and-I’m-butthurt-that-you-have-a-girlfriend-of-course-it’s-not-really-your-fault-but-”

You shudder at the thought, because it’s just plain embarrassing.

But really, you’re not the best at expressing your emotions—you’ve never been. Frankly, you’re tired of expressing your emotions because it never got you anywhere. Not with your mom, not with your dad, and definitely not with Yuta, who you dated for a year and half a year just to dump you like you were nothing.

It’s not worth it, to put your emotions on the line for anyone, not anymore. You locked your heart away a long time ago, and you were a fool to let it come out last time, and you like to think you learn from your mistakes.

At least, that’s what you think, until you return home one Sunday night from the library and see a little cup of your favorite milk tea at the door, with a straw neatly balanced on the top.

…

When spring fling rolls around, you still haven’t spoken to Mark, and if your friends catch on, they don't mention it. They know by now that you prefer to deal with things alone, to digest them for what they are and then promptly moving on—you know, like processing a death.

It doesn’t really matter, you think. You and Mark have always been friends, and will always be friends. Nothing more, nothing less. And when you get over yourself, things will be fine.

But really, how can it be fine when your whole world stops every time Mark looks at you?

You try not to dwell on it, even now weeks later. You’re busy getting ready to go out, blotting your lipstick on some tissue paper in your friend Yuna’s bathroom.

“(y/n), you look amazing.”

When you turn to look at yourself in the mirror she’s right; The mascara you put on your lashes really brings out the color of your eyes, and your skin (thanks to Yuna’s highlighter compact) is literally glowing. You feel really pretty.

You turn to smile at her. “Thanks to you.” you tell her, and she gets bashful, pushing you out of the seat and ushering you out the door. You make it down stairs no problem, but she calls you as soon as you walk out the door.

“Yes, I have blotting papers with me, and no, I am not dating Haechan I’ve told you thousands of times-”

“What about me?”

You turn around to find Haechan leaning against the dormitory wall, already waiting.

Embarrassed, you tell her you need to go and hang up the phone.

“How long have you been standing here? Hopefully not too long.” You apologize, but he assures you it’s all right.

“Are you sure your friends are fine with you leaving them early to go with me?”

“Yes Haechan, they’re just happy that I have someone to go with.” you sigh. “Almost too happy.”

He laughs, after looking at you, he pauses. “You look nice.”

“You do too, Hyuck.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he seems embarrassed at your compliment.

When you walk into the venue, you’re not surprised at how spacious it is. You’re used to your school going all out, from the kale salads and now, spring fling. They might as well call it spring semi-formal, because everyone is dressed their best.

You see Johnny at the end of the punch table, and he waves, motioning for you two to join him.

“And my favorite couple,” he greets you two, and you almost smack him upside down the head.

“Relax, I’m just kidding.” and he leans in for a hug. “How are you (y/n), I haven’t seen you in a second.”

“I’m good, just been super busy. You were so right, Professor Kim has been really keeping me on my toes in Physics 430,” you laugh. “Every time I walk into the classroom I can feel my life flash through my very eyes.”

He laughs, and you all laugh with him. Johnny tends to have that kind of effect on people.

“How’s Mark?” he asks, and you cringe. “It’s been a while.”

You laugh nervously “ I haven’t seen him in a while either.”

“Oh really. Don’t you see each other every week?”

“Well we used to,” you panic. “Just not anymore because, you know, I-”

“Because you’ve been so busy,” Haechan finishes.

Johnny gives you two a strange look but continues talking anyway.

“Well that’s life. Poor boy’s been studying for the MCAT like his rent is due tomorrow.”

“More like everyday.” Haechan snickers.

Johnny doesn’t hesitate to flame Haechan for his insolence, and begins teasing him for almost failing Calc II (Calc II was kind of hard you admit but that is an admission that will die with you), meanwhile, you’re whisked away by Yuna and her entourage. You glance at Johnny and Haechan, who bid you farewell with a nod of their heads.

It’s fun, you’re having a great time dancing, and eating mini hot dogs on a toothpick (you guess your university had to cut corners somewhere). When Roxanne plays, you and Yuna go wild, nearly knocking over a waiter over with a silver tray. You have so much fun, that you forget that Mark Lee exists until you make eye contact across the floor.

It's no surprise that he’s with Yebin, who looks annoyingly prettier than usual, with her makeup all done and satin dress. She’s pulling him in the opposite direction, but Mark seems to pay no mind, instead staying in place, looking at you. A moment passes, and you see him excusing himself. When he begins to head your direction. You panic.

Before you can even react, you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. When you finally turn to see who it is, you’re nose to nose with none other than Haechan.

“What are you doing?”

“Just go along with it,” Haechan whispers through his teeth. Your hands are pressed against his chest, and he grabs one of your arms, placing it around his neck.

“Go along with what? Have you lost your mind-”

Before you can finish your sentence, his lips press against yours and your mind goes blank. He tastes like peppermint and aftershave, with his lips soft in the center and just a little chapped around the edges.

When you two finally part, Mark is nowhere to be found, and you don’t know how to feel.

“Haechan I-” you stammer. “I need to go.”

You hurry off, and he doesn’t follow you.

…

When you’re outside, it’s cold; the air is brisk and definitely doesn’t help steady your breathing, it only makes it harder. It’s a lot to process, Mark, Yebin, Haechan. It’s a lot, and you feel like you’re in emotional overdrive, with all the feelings you’ve been trying to keep in for the past few months coming back to bite you.

You sit down at the edge of the fountain outside the venue, and you nearly get soaked. It misses you by mere inches, with the ceramic fish looking at you almost mockingly. You don’t care, with all the thoughts running through your head right now, you think you might go insane.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there at the fountain when you feel something wrap around you, warm like it was just taken out of the dryer. It smells familiar, like cologne and faintly of antiseptic—it smells like Mark.

You don’t look at him when he sits down next to you, legs open, hands crossed. And he doesn’t look at you. It’s radio silent.

“So you and Haechan, huh.”

“So you and Yebin.” you echo.

Mark looks at you for the first time, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh that.” He shuffles awkwardly. “I don’t really like her like that.”

Your head raises in surprise, and you face each other for the first time in months.

“I thought you guys had a thing.”

Mark scratches the back of his head. “Well we do, but it’s just in her head” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. “She came onto me last week, so I finally set things straight.” Noticing your reaction, he just shakes his head.

“I don’t think it worked though,” he adds.

“I would think, you’ve always been too nice for your own good.”

“I just didn’t want to hurt her feelings, you know?” he murmurs. “I feel terrible.”

“You’re not a terrible person just because you don’t like someone back.”

“Maybe not, but I believe not wanting you and Haechan to be together does.”

It takes a moment for his words to register within you, and even after you process them, you’re not sure what to say.

“We don’t like each other like that.” you interrupt him.

Mark looks visibly confused. “Then you and Haechan aren’t??” his voice falters.

“No more than you and Yebin. I promise you it’s not what it seems like.” you tell him and it finally clicks. You’d have to thank the idiot later. Right after you slap him.

Mark doesn’t question it, not even when you start crying. You don’t question it either, unsure of why you’re crying.

“You’re so stupid,” you sniffle. “I’ve liked you for so fucking long.”

Mark pulls out his pocket square to gently wipe the tears from your face, and places his hand on top of yours.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? You could have just said something.” his says softly

“I didn’t want to ruin anything. We’ve always just been friends.”

“I think we’ve always been just more than that.” he says, leaning in, hands cup your face gently.

“Just took some of us a little longer to realize.”

....

“That was very nice of you,” Johnny says.

“Yeah. Very nice.” Haechan echos.

“How long has it been, that you’ve liked her for? Three years?”

“Two going on three.”

Johnny lets out a low whistle, and looks down at the younger boy worriedly. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Haechan glances at you and Mark through the glass, outside the venue. With Mark whispering in your ear and you laughing, you seem so happy; happier than you’ve ever been with him.

“Yeah, I am. More than okay.”

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believingispowerfulmagic · 3 years

Text

“We All Will Be Together” Chapter 6: Happy Father’s Day

"Alright, class, please settle down," Miss French said, trying to get the attention of her second graders. It was nearing the end of the day and there was a warm breeze blowing through the nearest window, beckoning them all outside. Even Henry was having trouble focusing – all he wanted to do was go outside and play.

But school was still not yet over and he was stuck inside with everyone else.

"Class, I need your attention," Miss French repeated. "Or else we'll never make our Father's Day cards."

Henry sat up straighter, excitement filling him. This was the first year he had a father to make a card for – usually he ended up making a card for his Uncle David instead – and he looked forward to making something for Robin, his dad. He tried not to bounce in his seat as Miss French told each row to go get their art boxes. When his was called, he grabbed his and returned to his seat as quickly as possible so they could get started on the cards as soon as possible.

She placed several piles of construction paper – sorted by color – onto the bookcase under the blackboard. Turning back to the class, she smiled. "I want you to figure out which animal you want to put on your card and then when I call your row, you can come up and take the colors you need."

Biting his lip, Henry debated what he wanted to make. He considered a horse but that seemed more appropriate for his mother. And he knew that Roland would make monkeys – he loved them. Dad seemed to like all animals so that didn't help him make a choice either. As Miss French started to call up row one, Henry panicked as he tried to make his decision.

Dog? Cat? Horse? Lion? Dragon?

What was he going to pick?

"Row four," Miss French said, moving to stand in front of Henry's row. "Your turn."

Henry waited until everyone else filed past him before he headed up to the front. Miss French frowned, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Henry, is something wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know what animal to choose," he said. "Nothing I've thought of feels right."

"Okay," she replied kindly. "Well, what's your dad's favorite animal?"

Henry panicked, his eyes widening. "I don't know."

"Okay, okay," she repeated, soothing him. "Well, do you have a favorite movie to watch with him? Maybe something with animals?"

"Yes," Henry answered, relief flooding through him as he thought of the past couple weeks. "We've been watching Robin Hood together."

Miss French smiled. "I think you're getting an idea now, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Thank you, Miss French."

"You're welcome," she said. "Now go get your paper so I can call up the next row, okay?"

"Yes, Miss French." He quickly picked up some orange, white and green construction paper. Clutching them tightly, he returned to his chair as the next row went up to grab their supplies.

Once the last row – Roland's row – went and got their supplies, Miss French stood in front of the classroom again. "Alright, you're now going to draw the animals you chose – one big and one little. Does anyone need me to draw your animal on the board for you to copy? If so, please raise your hand."

Henry raised his hand along with a few others. Miss French asked the other children for their animal, smiling when she came to Henry. "And you?"

"A fox," he said proudly. She nodded, writing it down in her list before moving on. Excitement filled Henry – he was going to make the best fox dad and son ever.

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

"How does your card look, Henry?" Roland asked, falling into step with his brother as they left the classroom. "Can I see it?"

Henry shook his head. "Not now. I'll show it to you when we get home."

"Alright," Roland replied, shrugging. "I can show you mine too. I'm really proud of it. Do you know what I drew?"

"Monkeys," Henry said, smiling. "You love them."

Roland grinned as they exited the school building together. "I do. And I like that you chose foxes. Papa is going to love it."

Happiness surged through Henry – Roland certainly knew their father better than him so he trusted his brother's judgment. Grinning, he said: "Good. I want our first Father's Day to be perfect."

"Papa's not going to care about that," Roland replied, frowning. "All he wants is to make sure we have fun. If we do, then he's happy."

"And if we don't?" Henry asked, worried that something would go wrong and ruin the day for his father.

Roland shrugged. "I think Papa's happy just being with me. And now he'll be happy with me and you."

"I guess," Henry replied, still wanting to have an amazing Father's Day. "It's just…I've never really had a father to celebrate with before. Uncle David and Uncle Archie just aren't the same."

"Well, I can help you celebrate," Roland told him with a smile. "We'll have a great Father's Day!"

"What are you two conspiring about now?"

They looked up to find Dad standing over them, smiling. Henry blinked once before throwing himself at his father. "Dad!"

"Hello, my boy," Dad replied, hugging him tightly. He then held out his other arm. "I've got room for you too, Roland."

Roland then hugged him as well. "Hi, Papa!"

"Hello," he repeated. "Did you two have a good day at school?"

They nodded and he smiled. "Wonderful! So, why don't we head home and let you get out of those uniforms? You must be hot."

Both boys cheered and Dad led them toward the car. Roland looked up at him. "I didn't know you were coming to pick us up, Papa."

"It was a last-minute decision," he replied. "Things were slow at the store and your Uncle John assured me that he had everything under control. So I told your mother I would pick you up and spend the afternoon with you."

"I like that," Henry said, giving his father's hand a squeeze.

Dad squeezed his hand back before also squeezing Roland's hand. "So, what do you two want to do?"

"Can we go to the park?" Roland asked, bouncing as they approached Robin's familiar truck.

"I think the park sounds fun," Dad agreed, looking down at Henry. "Do you want to go to the park?"

Henry perked up at the suggestion, nodding. "Can we practice baseball?"

"Of course we can," Dad replied, helping them into the backseat of his truck. "Any other requests?"

Roland grinned. "Ice cream?"

"Please?" Henry added, also eager for the sweet treat. Especially on such a warm day.

Laughing, Dad nodded. "Okay. We'll go have a nice game in the park and then we'll get some ice cream. Hopefully your mother doesn't kill me for ruining your dinners."

They chuckled as he closed the door. Henry settled into his seat as he buckled up and Roland did the same. "We're going to have a lot of fun today," Roland said.

"I know," Henry replied, grinning. "This is going to be the best weekend ever!"

"That's the plan," Dad said, getting into the driver's seat. He buckled himself up before looking back, smiling at them. "Here we go!"

Both cheered as he turned on the car and then pulled away from the school, heading back to the house so they could change and grab their gear. And then they would climb back into the truck, head to the park and have some fun before getting ice cream.

TGIF, indeed.

Continue reading on FFN, AO3 or Wattpad

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #the christmas wish #we all will be together

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thewatermelloncat · 3 years

Text

Backstage (Rosénali CH 5)

CH1, CH2, CH3, CH4

Summary: With rehearsals for the school production underway, family matters come into play. Maybe Denali says something that she shouldn’t.

Boarding School AU

Kinda Pastel/Punk AU

Author’s Note: Be on the look out for links to extra stories within the chapters.

Warnings: None

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Circus.

That was the word on everyone’s mind after the theme for the school production had been announced.

The few short weeks before term break had been chaotic, masses of auditions and call backs following only days after the release of the script. And then it had all faded into nothing as the break rolled around and people moved off home to spend time with their families. Though the nerves of what part they would get still stuck with them.

There was only so much playing video games could do to distract Denali from worrying over her future placement in the cast. And having not gone home for the break, Rosé threw herself into picking up extra shifts at the diner. Trying to avoid the lonely hallways of the empty school where her mind would quickly play over all the things she could have done better in her audition.

Still, they found solace in texting each other most days. Sometimes sending a distress signal through the line when they got too in their head about their auditions, in turn for the other would reassure them that it would all be fine in the end. And that was enough to tie them through until the last day of term break.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Denali and Mik’s room is a mess of unorganised clothes and partially empty suitcases as the two of them are helped by Rosé in unpacking.

“Denali, you have too many pairs of socks” Rosé states as she shoves a draw full of them closed.

“It’s getting close to winter, what happens if I need to double up?” Denali defends before the door to the room is thrown open.

“Casting list is up!” Liv bursts into the room.

Almost immediately Denali and Mik who had been crouched by their suitcases are on their feet.

“Have you looked yet?” Denali asks.

“No, came to get you guys first.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Mik prompts before abandoning task and rushing them out the door.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The whole surrounding is crowded, a mix of people jumping in excitement and a few pissed off faces. Gradually the four of them make their way closer to the sheet hung on the noticeboard.

“I got it!” Denali exclaims as she jumps back to the group through the crowd in victory. Having ducked under a few arms to see the sheet: finding her name listed as part of the main dance troupe and next to the roller-skate solo.

“Gorge, of course you got the solo” Mik says. “You’re basically the only one who can stand up in skates.”

“No one would even come close to you” Liv agrees as she follows Mik further through the crowd.

Rosé smiles at Denali from next to her but doesn’t make to follow the other two.

“What’s wrong? You not wanna know what you got?” Denali asks her.

“Nervous” is all Rosé says.

“Come on” Denali nods her head to the papers on the board and takes Rosé by the hand. “I’ll check with you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Denali doesn’t let go of Rosé’s hand as they search for her name. After a few tense seconds Rosé sighs in relief and takes a small step back. Soon afterward Denali finds her name listed next to the lead role as the ringleader.

“Congratulations” Denali squeezes her hand and smiles up at her.

Rosé breathes deeply before she smiles and squeezes Denali’s hand back.

“That’s two years in a row, girl!” Mik exclaims after finding Rosé’s name.

“What about you?” Rosé asks.

“I don’t know, I haven’t found it yet” Mik says.

“Hold on, I’ll help” Denali says, letting go of Rosé’s hand and joining Mik in regaining her search.

While scouring the list of names, Denali overhears Rosé talking to Olivia.

“Hey, I’m sorry” Rosé says as she steps closer to her. “I know you really wanted that part.”

“Everyone wanted that part” Liv reminds her. “But congratulations, you deserve it. Your audition was killer.”

Rosé smirks as she leans down closer to her ear. “You can always pull some showgirl shit and throw some marbles – you’re pretty much my understudy.”

Liv laughs and for a moment the jealousy she feels disappears. “I’ll just show you up on stage.”

“Bring it” Rosé nudges her with an elbow. “I love some competition.”

Liv opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by Mik’s exclamation.

“Yes! I get to be a clown!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I’m so glad I don’t have to memorise any lines” Denali says picking up the script from Rosé’s desk.

“Haha” Rosé drones sarcastically, half asleep from on top of her bed.

Denali flips through a couple of pages. “How far have you gotten?”

Rosé hums as she tries to properly calculate the percentage but gives up and instead answers, “most of it.”

“I confess, I had my doubts… But this is a triumph. Well done ma’am” Denali prompts her with a line from the script. Playing up a proper voice, teasingly.

“Shut up” Rosé groans throwing a pair of balled up socks at her shoulder. “Wake me up in half an hour if my alarm doesn’t go off” she says hitting a button on her phone before rolling over to face the wall.

Denali smiles as she picks up the socks that had fallen to the floor. She knows better than to throw them back at Rosé, lest she wake her up more when she needs to sleep.

The school had thrown them all into rehearsals as soon as the casting list had been put up, and they’d been thrown in hard. None harder than Rosé in her leading role. Add onto her hectic school schedule with night shifts at the diner, and she’s been nearly falling asleep in every one of her classes for the last week. Still, she manages to make it work though Denali has no idea how she does it.

Almost within seconds Rosé’s breathing evens out as sleep takes her, and Denali quietly stands from the chair to put the socks back on her set of draws. Internally wincing as the chair creaks when she sits back down in it but Rosé doesn’t even stir.

Denali smiles again, this time at the peacefulness of the room. Much the opposite of her own now days with Mik having been put in charge of the make up for the production. Since then, she’s taken to hanging out in Rosé’s room more often now that her own was littered with eyeshadow pallets and make up brushes on almost every surface.

With nothing much to occupy her time, she picks up the script again and reads through it. Skimming over the notes Rosé has written in neat cursive in the margins, and feeling a swelling of pride at the stage directions for her dance numbers.

Her finger traces over Mik’s sole line she has in the script – one that she always jokes that she’ll forget – when the buzzing of an alarm goes off.

“Hey, no!” she warns pointedly, seeing Rosé’s arm move out blindly to whack snooze.

“Five more minutes” Rosé groans into her pillow.

“No” Denali says as she moves over to the bed. “Anything longer than 30 minutes just makes it worse.”

She shakes once at Rosé’s shoulder, earning an exaggerated groan, but it works as Rosé pushes herself up with a yawn. As she stretches out her arms Denali turns around to grab her hairbrush to throw to her.

Rosé misses catching it but it falls on her lap before she picks it up, flashing Denali half a smile as she untangles her hair.

“How late are you working tonight?”

Rosé scrunches her nose in a contemplative manner. “Got a double shift, so probably get back at 1:00 or 2:00.”

“Shit, Rosie” Denali sighs.

Rosé hums dismissively as she puts down her hairbrush and moves over to pack her uniform. “But then I don’t work again until the weekend, so…” she trails off as she zips up her bag and grabs her shoes from the floor.

“Hey, uh… they’re giving the tickets out to us tomorrow” Denali hesitantly changes the subject to one she’d been thinking over for a while. “Are you going to invite your parents?”

Rosé freezes as she sits on her bed, her expression going blank as her shoes drop to the floor. “Haven’t thought about it” she says a few seconds later, moving to shove her feet into her shoes like she hadn’t frozen in the first place.

“Do you think you will?”

This time it takes even longer for Rosé to reply, and she tightens her shoelaces a little too aggressively. “I don’t know.”

Denali picks up on the hint but for a reason beyond her, she ignores it. “I think it would be nice for them to see what you’re doing.”

Though the words were spoken innocently, they still sting slightly at something inside Rosé and she holds her breath for a second, waiting to ride the feeling out.

“I’ll think about it” rosé dismisses a little irritably as she stands and shoulders her bag, before making the excuse. “I have to go.”

And she does. Leaving Denali standing in an empty room trying to forget how the door had slammed on her way out.

CH6

#rpdr #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr 13 #rosé #denali #olivia lux #gottmik #boarding school au #punk!rosé #pastel!denali #rosénali #rosenali

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bruiscdlikeviolets · 4 years

Text

Slow Burn - Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

This one will be based off Slow Burn! Enjoy! xo Kenzie

MASTERLIST

Contains slight NSFW language, but no explicit smut. All passages are isolated and separate occasions!

W.C: 2.6k

I forgot how you tasted Just another night wasted Spilling yourself all over me like you don't care, don't care Guess I'm safe for another day Telling myself I can block out the distance like I don't care, don't care Cue reality

Dick was used to nights away from her, long trips away where distance seems three times longer than it actually was. It was the nights when he came back, when they mold themselves back together; between the sheets, his head between her thighs, getting drunk on the feeling of being with each other. Three days, that’s all they ever spent together. Those three days, it seems like (Y/N) was truly wrapped up in just Dick. Constantly present, always laughing. It was almost like they spent their whole lives together, and in a sense, they had. Four years they’d been like this, but every single time the three days ended; she continued on, her life didn’t stop like Dick’s did. Dick constantly spent patrols, spent missions missing her. Missing her laugh, her smile, her wit. He was used to compartmentalizing, but something about her (Y/e/c) eyes, her soft lips made focusing hard. She didn’t care about him like Dick did about her. “Hey handsome,” She greeted, opening her apartment door for him as he walked in, food in hand. She kissed his cheek, and took the food from his hands and walked to the small kitchen, cozily situated in the far corner of her apartment. It was soft moments of affection like that, that lingered in his mind week to week. They promised no strings attached, but affection like that doesn’t count as no strings attached. “How was your day?” She called, peering around the corner; a simple smile plastered on her face; pulling Dick from his trance. “It was long, hard; but I feel better being here.” He grinned, walking towards her and pulling her into him by her hips, ghosting his fingers over the soft skin. She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him softly. He happily returned the kiss, picking her up and placing her on the counter; leaving the food he brought long forgotten.

I hope it all comes back again I want to get stuck in your head like 'Everlong' playing on the late night radio Because you lit a match with your nails on my back And something tells me I'll never learn Just another slow burn

(Y/N) sat at her desk, her head braced with both hands with her fingers laced in her messy hair. The homework in front of her frustrated her beyond belief, but it wasn’t just that. Her mind raced back to images of the nights she spent with Dick this last time; every time they spent time together was memorable but something about this last time was different; softer, more emotional, on both their behalf. She spent the week prior thinking about their relationship and where it stands. Four years they’d been at this and something recently tipped the scales. Maybe it was her turning down dates from men who, under any other circumstances would’ve piqued her attention, but the idea didn’t excite her like it once did. She picked up her phone, her finger hovering over Dick’s name; she wanted nothing more than to call him, to hear his voice, maybe have him come over and help her with this homework. She knew it went against everything they agreed on. Sighing deeply, she locked her phone and leaned back in her chair. He’s not even in Bludhaven, he’s on a business trip somewhere with Bruce. With a defeated sigh, she closed her eyes, images of Dick filling the empty space. His blue eyes, his smile, his lips. The way they felt against her own, the way they felt between her thighs. Her eyes shot open, her breathing slightly shallow; why couldn’t she get him out of her head? “(Y/N)?” A familiar voice called from the doorway of her bedroom, making her jump. Turning, she saw Dick leaning against the frame. “Dick!” She smiled, getting up. “What are you doing here?” She asked, walking towards him. “I got home a day earlier than usual, I was in the neighborhood and figured I would stop by. You should really lock your door.” He laughed, “I knocked three times, when you didn’t answer after the third one, I got worried and walked in.” He bit his lip nervously, “I didn’t mean to overstep—” he started, (Y/N) shook her head. “No, you didn’t overstep. Just scared me that’s all,” She soothed, grabbing his hand. “I’m glad you came; I needed a break from psychology before I went insane.” She laughed, pulling him to the bed and laying down; Dick followed suit and pulled her close to him. Truthfully, Dick missed her. He didn’t have an actual mission this week, just normal Nightwing duties, and tonight everything was on the quieter side, just a few muggings. He found himself wondering towards her part of town, and as her building came into view, he noticed her bedroom light on. Standing on the roof across from hers, he saw her hunched over her desk. He assumed she had been there all night; her body looked stiff but she didn’t look like she was going to stop anytime soon. Without thinking twice, he made his way back to his hideout and changed, deciding he was going to pull her away from her work himself. This went against everything they agreed on, but he knew her better than she knew herself. It’s almost 1am, and she needs to sleep. Whatever she was doing could wait until after she’s had some sleep. His mind screamed for him to think twice, to follow the ground rules; but something else in him told him to make his move, and that’s what he did.

Now you got my attention Did I forget to mention I'll be gone by tomorrow, on a plane to Chicago I say it's not fair, not fair anyway But you don't care either way

Dick woke up earlier than he usually did, his head racing with the fact that their weekend would be cut short for the second time in a row. He tried with Bruce, to reason that he could leave later than the rest and still be there in time; but there was no changing Bruce Wayne’s mind when he'd already made the plan. With a sigh, he sat up carefully; his head in his hands. Carefully, he stood up, searching the dark room for his discarded clothes that had been thrown haphazardly around the room in the heat of passion. As he scoured the room, his mind cloudy with the images of the night prior; how her head was thrown back, the noises she made as he hit deep inside of her. He sat himself at her desk, pulling out a pad of paper to write his goodbye. Dick usually felt terrible leaving, but this time he felt worse than usual. Perhaps it was because he was leaving at 3AM. “Dick?” He heard her call from her bed, making his heart drop. “What are you doing?” She asked, sitting up and pulling the blanket over her naked body.With a soft sigh, he turned to look at her sleepy gaze. “Are you leaving?” She asked quietly, and Dick nodded; turning his gaze away from hers, ashamed. “Yeah,” he bit his lip, “I didn’t have the heart to tell you again, I know how upset you were last time…” He thought he was helping her; but in reality, he was saving himself from the ache he knew he would have from looking into her sad (Y/E/C) eyes; he barely survived last time. “It’s fine.” He could tell by her tone it wasn’t, he knew she was angry. “I’m sorry.” (Y/N) shook her head, and looked at him.

“No, it’s okay, I know you do important work Dick. I just wish you would’ve told me, instead of thinking you could leave me a note.” She sighed, and laid back down, turning her back to him. “Turn off the desk light before you go.” She mumbled, falling back asleep. With a sigh, Dick wrote his note.

I know it’s not fair, I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, but I’ll be back. I promise. -D.G.

Dick looked at the girl on the bed, a defeated sigh slipped through his lips as he turned out the desk light. It’s not fair.

We set a fire at both ends with our best lines And best intentions Let go of what we know and make tonight our reinvention

Dick was anxious, and (Y/N) could tell. He fidgeted more than usual, stumbled over words, and was sincerely more distracted than she had ever seen him. Dick Grayson was always cool, calm and collected. Tonight, something was off. She couldn’t tell if it was because she invited him to a family dinner, or if there was something else on his mind. (Y/N) prided herself on how well she could read Dick Grayson, on how well she knew his ticks, his little things that made him, him. But tonight, she couldn’t gage him for the life of her. Though, in four years, this wasn’t the first family gathering he had come to, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. Her family, especially her mother, adored him. He was always first to help, always polite, and always was the best at whatever game they decided to play during game nights. Dick Grayson was by definition, perfect. “Dick? Honey?” (Y/N) asked, quietly as she sat herself on his lap since he decided to sit in the recliner instead of the couch. She brushed some of his loose hair from his forehead, the movement making him jump slightly; confirming that he wasn’t currently with them. He glanced up at her, his mouth going dry. He was over playing this game with her; he was tired of the 50/50. He never thought of himself as the all or nothing kind of guy, he could handle casual; in fact, he almost preferred casual. But casual with (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no longer cutting it. After skipping out early on her two weekends in a row, and then her being out of town the next, he had a lot of time to think, to re-evaluate their relationship; that’s when he realized he wanted more with her. He wanted to see her more than three days at a time, he wanted to go with her when she was out of town. He was tired of being casual. “Dick?” She asked again, “I lost you again. Are you okay?” Her voice was quiet, she didn’t want to alert her family to anything; he thanked her for that. “Yeah,” He rasped, flinching slightly at how rough his voice sounded. Clearing his throat and taking a sip of his glass of water, he looked at the girl perched on his lap; she was looking at him with so much care, so much worry. He looked away from her gaze, his cheeks red from embarrassment. “We don’t have to stay Dick, if you don’t want to.” He felt bad, it wasn’t often that her family was able to gather like this; with her siblings being in college in different cities, and not being able to be here often. Dick shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I promise. We can stay, a lot happened this last trip that has me a bit distracted. I’ll be okay.” She nodded, not convinced. (Y/N) didn’t really know what those business trips entailed, but she knew that whatever they entailed, some were worse than others; and often took a toll on him. But she nodded anyways, knowing that when they got home tonight Dick would tell her what was bothering him. (Y/N) situated herself on his lap so she could face her family, her hand still on the nape of his neck, softly carding her fingers through his hair. Dick followed (Y/N) into her apartment and took off his shoes, once he did, he pulled her into a hug; he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, nuzzling his face into her neck. Giggling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair once more. “You okay, handsome?” She asked softly, resting her head against his shoulder as they embraced, her heart fluttering. She felt him nod against her, but not let go. She pulled him closer to her, moving her arms to begin running her nails up and down his back comfortingly. This was new for them, an embrace that lasted this long; she knew he was a physically affectionate person, but this was different, this was intimate. “Dick?” She whispered, pulling away slightly and he did too. “I’m worried, is everything okay?” Sighing, he pulled away fully and led her to the couch. “(Y/N),” he started, sitting on the couch. Her heart sped up a little bit, she didn’t like how he said her name. “I can’t do this anymore.” He finally let out, looking at her. “Do what? Do this? Do us?” She asked, biting her lip and he nodded. (Y/N) let out a huff of air and began running her hands up and down her thighs. “What do you want to do then?” She asked, looking at him. “Hear me out first, please?” He asked, and she nodded. She watched as he took a breath, watching as he formulated what he was going to say. She could tell his mind was racing. “I’ve never thought of myself as an all or nothing kind of person,” he started, looking at her. “The last four years have been an indication of that, three days together, not much contact through the week. It was fine, and I was comfortable with that.” Her heart started racing, was this going where she thought it was going? Her eyes watered slightly, worrying that it wasn’t. “No baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, this isn’t me saying I’m done. I’m not done, I just can’t do a casual relationship with you anymore; I need something more. I want something more.” Dick stated, carefully running his thumbs under her eyes as he cupped her face. She nodded, looking at him. “Something between has shifted,” She confirmed with a tremor in her voice. “Something good, something I can’t find myself being able to ignore anymore.” (Y/N) placed her hands on his, gazing at him. “(Y/N), I love you. I think I always have; I think I forced myself to ignore those feelings and convinced myself that you didn’t feel the same way in an attempt to force me to get over them.” Dick confessed. “Dick, I love you too. I’m so sorry it took me so long to understand that. I’m sorry I put so many rules on what we were doing, I was doing it to save myself. To protect myself from you inevitably breaking my heart. I’m so sorry, Dick.” Dick just nodded, and kissed her softly. She returned the kiss immediately, putting all the passion she could muster into the kiss. She needed this kiss to say everything she’s felt, to show him that she was sorry for being so scared, for holding him at arm’s length the entire time. She carefully pushed him down, and climbed onto his lap, settling her thighs on either side of his hips; she pulled away slightly, a soft smile on her lips. “I love you, Dick Grayson.” She whispered; her eyes fixed on his. “And I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Because you lit a match with your nails on my back And something tells me I'll never learn Just another slow burn (just another slow burn)

taglist(message me if you want to be added!) @idkmanicantenglish , @yuesallura , @vintagexparker

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagines #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson oneshot #dc #fluff #fanfic #dc fanfic #dc imagine #dc oneshot #dc x reader

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years

Note

YES THEM REMINISCING ON THEIR “hatred” and how far they came would just be chefs kiss

you got it 😌

warning: cursing, underage drinking, mentions of a fight

wordcount 2.7k

_____

Over Christmas break, after another high school reunion party, Rafe and Sophie were both tipsy and giggly as they made their way up to Rafe’s room. It was already made pretty clear at Sophie’s house that ‘sleepovers’ of any kind with Rafe weren’t allowed, so she had to lie and tell her parents she was staying with a friend. “Soph, shh!” He admonished, practically dragging her upstairs as she tripped over her feet.

“S’not my fault!” She argued, pushing his hands away again as he tried to help. Finally they made it up to his room and both fell onto the bed, curling up into each other. “Hey, Rafe.” She whispered, grinning.

“Hey what.” He pulled her close, hands automatically going to play with her hair. “I like you.” She hummed, pressing her head into his touch. He laughed and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I like you too. Hey, the boys and I were talking tonight, about us in high school, and they reminded me of something.”

Sophie scowled. “Probably not a good thing then.”

“No, no. Remember when you got in that fight in high school?” She paused, turning to face him. “Wasn’t really a fight, but yeah.” He glanced over her to gauge her expression. “That wasn’t over me. Right?”

She shrugged, trying to stay casual even though a blush betrayed her. “No? I mean, I wouldn’t say it was over you, technically.”

He grinned. “Soph, you didn’t.”

“Hm. Might have.”

“Tell me.”

______

“He’s a fucking idiot. Too easy.” Alexandra giggled in the locker room to her friends, applying lip gloss after their gym class. It was senior year and there was a big party planned at the Cameron’s house for the weekend. She had been discussing her plans to hook up with Rafe and then ditch him for the past fifteen minutes, and Sophie had had enough.

A strange feeling bubbled up inside her and Sophie swung open her locker with more force than necessary, the clang echoing around the room. “He’s not.”

Alexandra raised a cool eyebrow, glancing her way. “Did you say something, Flint?”

“He’s not an idiot.” Sophie repeated, a little clearer.

“Oh, honey. He’s not here to hear you standing up for him, you know that? Even Cameron wouldn’t sleep with you.” Alexandra taunted, rolling her eyes.

Sophie certainly didn’t like Rafe, but she didn’t mind him. And he wasn’t an idiot by any means - he held his own against her fairly well, and she respected the hell out of that. (Although she’d never, ever, admit it to his face.)

“I’ve never considered that, but thanks for the heads up.” She retorted dryly.

That was a lie. She’d considered it far too many times. Thought about what his lips might feel like against hers, his big hands gripping her hips, his -

“Earth to Sophie.” Alexandra rudely interrupted her thoughts, laughing when Sophie glanced over with a mildly confused expression. “Why do you care, anyways?”

“He has feelings too, y’know. Would you like it if someone said use ‘em and lose ‘em about you?” Sophie frowned, lacing up her tennis shoes.

“No one would ever say that about me.” Alexandra replied with a smug smile, then stepped into her heels that were about two inches too tall for the dress code. She couldn’t walk straight in them, and looked ridiculous, especially given the fact that it was an all-girls school and the only male she had to impress was the 28-year-old history teacher. (On second thought, maybe that did make sense.)

As she walked past, Sophie made a split-second decision and stuck her toe out just so, making Alexandra trip and fall to the concrete floor with a thud, her now-shattered cell phone clattering across the tile along with a couple broken nails. The two stared each other down for a second until Sophie smirked. “Oops.”

Alexandra lunged first, yanking at Sophie’s ponytail. “You bitch!”

It didn’t take long before the gym teacher came running out of her office, breaking the two girls up. Sophie had taken the brunt of it, a slap to the face and a few scratches down the arm, while she acted mainly in self-defense. (Mainly.)

The two were escorted to the office straight away, in silence. The principal was shocked to see Sophie in there, almost disbelieving of Alexandra’s sob story. “Miss Flint? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“She deserved it.” Sophie muttered, clear as day.

“Oh my god, she’s not even sorry!” Alexandra cried out, wiping away a few false tears.

“Have you thought about joining theater, Alex? You seem to have a knack for it.” Sophie shot her a faux-sweet smile, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

“Girls.” The principal warned, shaking her head. “I have to say, I’m surprised...Sophie, I’ll have to give you a week’s worth of detention. Alexandra...” She sighed. “One day -”

“But she started it -”

“One day.” She repeated firmly, and Sophie held back a smug look. “Violence at Greenville Academy, honestly. You two know better. Both of you, out.”

Two days later, at the party, Sophie wore the bruise of Alexandra’s handprint with pride. She hadn’t bothered to cover the ugly purple mark with concealer, considering it a conversation starter instead. “Heard you got in a fight this week, Flint.” Rafe greeted her, reaching out to grip her chin lightly and get a better view. Sophie yanked her head back out of his touch. “Might have, what’s it to you?”

He just grinned, smug as ever. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

“Yeah, well, let it serve as a reminder of what I can do if you really piss me off.” She quipped, trying - and failing - to hide a shudder as she took a long sip of her mostly vodka-lemonade.

“What happened?”

“None of your business, asshole.” She tacked on the last word more out of nerves than anything, not wanting to be caught in a lie.

“M’ just asking, chill.” He raised his hands in defense, tone turning a little more sincere. “Just ‘cause - y’know. I heard I was involved.”

Sophie took another long sip of her drink, cursing under her breath. Sarah. Of course she should have known, his little sister was in Sophie’s gym class and had the biggest mouth of anyone she knew. “You heard wrong, Cameron.”

“Alright. Hey, Alexandra’s been flirting with me the whole party.” He changed the subject, testing her. “Think I should go for it?”

“I’d rather not hear about your lackluster sex life in the locker room next week, so no, for my sake.” She retorted coolly, though her shoulders tensed up and jaw set a little at the thought of him in bed with Alexandra.

He nodded, suspicions confirmed, then smirked. “I can prove to you it’s not lackluster, you know.”

“I’d like to see you try.” She shot back, regretting it the second the words came out of her mouth. “Not like - I didn’t mean -”

“Relax, Soph.” He grinned and reached out, gently tracing his thumb along her bruised cheek. “How about another time when you’re not hurting?”

She froze, resisting every single urge she had to lean into his touch or just take a tiny step forward and plant one on him. “Do you ever shut up?”

“I would if you’d make me.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She replied lamely, rolling her eyes and walking away.

_______

“I can’t believe you fought for my honor.” Rafe grinned, teasing her. Sophie was bright red now and shoved on his chest. “It was years ago, get over it. I wouldn’t do it now.” He gaped. “Soph! You would too!”

“I wouldn’t! I’m not dumb enough to get in a fight, I’m 21.” She told him pointedly, knowing full well that Rafe would absolutely get in a fight at that age. He scowled. “I’d fight for you.”

“You shouldn’t, I can’t see any good reason for you to.” She paused. “Besides, I stopped standing up for you after that.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Because you made me cry after winter formal.”

He tilted his head, confused. “Is that what Carter was talking about at Thanksgiving? I really don’t remember that.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I didn’t want you to know.” She grinned, ultra-dramatic. “I was heartbroken.”

He rolled his eyes and kissed her. “Remind me?”

_______

“Taking anyone to winter formal, Rafe?” Kelce asked him as they were out on the driving range at the golf course, a usual pastime for them.

Sophie was two tees away, practicing hitting on her own - she didn’t miss the fact that Rafe positioned himself close enough to watch her, but enjoyed the attention and the low whistles almost every time she leaned over to hit the ball. She hated the actual sport of golf, and only played to spend time with her dad, but she found solace in the stress relief of just hitting 100 balls in a row.

“Not yet.” The dance was two weeks away, and Rafe had been teasing Sophie about coming with him for a month now. “Hey, Soph!”

She ignored him, pulling back for a swing until she felt him grab the end of her club in mid-air. She cursed under her breath and turned on her heel, indignant. “Jesus, Rafe, I could have knocked you out cold.”

“Doubt it, your swing’s not strong enough.”

She huffed and stepped closer, toe-to-toe with him - responding just as he’d hoped she would. “Would you like me to test that theory?”

“Leave her alone, Rafe!” Kelce called out, annoyed the two had found a way to fight again.

He grinned. “Just thought I’d stop by and ask about your plans for the winter formal. You’d look pretty on my arm, you know.”

"Do you get off on being rejected, Rafe?” She questioned dryly.

“You’re gonna entertain the thought one day. Mark my words.” He let go of her club and stepped back, giving her room to hit again.

Sophie rolled her eyes and extended her club just enough to poke him in the ass as he walked away. “In your dreams, Cameron.”

That banter continued right up until three days before formal. Sophie had rejected two invitations, one from a friend and one from a boy who actually showed interest in her. Secretly, she was hoping Rafe might come around and ask her for real - because the last ten times were just teasing, right?

She was sorely mistaken when her friend on the track team at the time, Ashley, called her eagerly that night. “Sophie you’ll never guess who just asked me to the dance!” Ashley squealed into the phone.

“Landon finally worked up the nerve?” Sophie asked.

“What? No. Rafe asked me! Rafe Cameron!”

Sophie’s mouth went dry and she was thankful she was receiving the news on the phone, not in person where she’d have to hide her reaction. “Oh. That’s, um, that’s awesome, Ash.”

Ashley launched into a dreamy speech about how excited she was and Rafe said he’d match his tie to her dress and Sophie wouldn’t start anything when they went to dinner, right, and - “Sophie.”

“What? Oh, sorry, my dad was calling my name.” She lied quickly, forcing a smile so it’d come through in her tone.

“Who are you bringing?”

“Ah...Ben.” Sophie decided quickly, and hoped to god Ben was still available. He was Rafe’s basketball teammate, and practically his sworn enemy, and fine, maybe that was exactly the reason she chose Ben.

“Seriously?” The puzzlement was obvious in Ashley’s tone. “Have you two been talking?”

“Here and there.” Sophie confirmed vaguely, already regretting her lie. “So Rafe’s coming to the whole thing, then? Pictures and dinner before, the afterparty at yours?”

“Yeah, of course!” Ashley gushed.

Sophie tried to ignore the knot forming in her stomach. “Awesome. Hey, I gotta knock out my math homework, but we can talk about it at school tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Talk later!”

As soon as the phone clicked off, Sophie fell back onto her bed with a groan. “Fucking hell.” She gave herself a solid two minutes of wallowing before calling Ben, putting on her flirtiest voice, and asking him to formal. He accepted right away. God, men are so fucking easy, she thought to herself. Except when they aren’t.

The look on Rafe’s face was absolutely priceless when she strolled into the country club, head held high, hand-in-hand with Ben. “Surprised he didn’t ask you.” Ben murmured into Sophie’s ear, making a show of it just to piss Rafe off. “What do you mean?” She whispered back, stomach turning in knots at his proximity. “Kinda figured you two were a thing, given how often he talks about you in the locker room.” Ben shrugged. “But I’m glad you’re here with me instead.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Sophie replied weakly, giving Rafe an overly polite nod of acknowledgment. Rafe nodded back, and that was the extent of their communication for the night.

Until the party.

Sophie was four drinks in, way too much for her low tolerance, when she found Rafe alone in the kitchen. “What the fuck, Rafe?”

He turned around, amused. “Hello to you too, Soph.”

“You brought Ashley to the dance?” She accused, foot slipping on a spilled drink as she strode closer. He caught her by the waist, then quickly moved his hand to her arm instead as he steadied her. “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

“Thought you were going to ask me.” She wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be making such brazen statements, but figured if he called her out, she could pretend to be hammered.

He raised his eyebrows, caught off guard as he pulled her a little closer. “Never thought that was an option.”

“Maybe if you actually tried to be sincere for once, it could be.” They were way too close to be comfortable, but everything felt overwhelmingly right, Sophie decided. He leaned in an inch more so their foreheads touched, breath intermingling. She tilted her head up - just slightly - until -

“Sophie!” Ben called out and the two sprang apart like the same poles on a magnet. Ben wandered into the kitchen, grinning, two shots in hand. “There you are - oh.” His voice instantly fell flat as he took in the situation, Sophie’s flushed face and Rafe’s angry expression at the interruption. “Were you two...?” He gestured sloppily with the shots, tequila spilling to the floor.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sophie snapped without a second thought. “I was just grabbing another drink.” She lifted her near-empty beer, and Rafe bit hard on the inside of his cheek to stay impassive. “Watch your hands around my girl, Cameron.” Ben joked, still wary of what he had walked in on.

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I’m not your girl, Ben, this was just a one-time thing.” She informed him, strolling past him and out of the kitchen with a huff. Ben watched with a slack jaw, completely confused, and set the shots on the counter. “What just...”

Rafe smirked. “She does that. Kinda her thing.”

“Sure you two didn’t..?” Ben asked. Rafe just shrugged.

Once Ben left, going after Sophie, Rafe cursed and slammed his palm to the countertop. Sophie’s instant dismissal of the situation stung him more than he expected. Then he did what any rational seventeen-year-old boy would do - he took the two tequila shots, no chaser, and immediately set out to go make out with Ashley - right in Sophie’s line of sight.

She retaliated, of course, by getting more drunk and making out with Ben on the opposite side of the party, willing herself to ignore the sloppy way his tongue tried to force its way down her throat. After a few minutes, she pushed away from Ben. “I’m gonna go - I need some air.”

“I’ll come.” Ben volunteered. She shook her head quickly, pushing him away with a hand on his face. “No, it’s fine, I’m fine. Um, I’ll see you later.” He frowned, confused, but let her go. She passed by Rafe as she went, texting her brother Carter a very poorly-written drunk message to come pick her up. “Real classy, Soph.”

“Fuck you, Cameron.” She shot back, doing her best not to cry as she made her way to the front.

___

Rafe frowned, returning to play with her hair as she finished the story from her perspective. “I don’t remember that. I made out with your friend? You’re sure?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. And then I swore to myself I’d never give you the time of day.”

He grinned. “But I’m just too irresistible, right?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s totally it.”

#Rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #Rafe cameron obx #Rafe cameron x oc #college rafe #kinda #Rafe x Sophie #mine

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