#i would participate in a HEARTBEAT !

[girlgenius1111]

no time for losers

everyone saw alexia's goal celebration. only you got to see [and participate in] the match celebrations later that night. smut. 18+.

ps. this fic was made possible by @sunnyaelia who made very specific requests ☺️🤭🙃

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You held out as long as you could, truly. But you’d been ready to pounce on your girlfriend all day, the endorphins and emotions of the day only increasing this urge. The first people began to peel away from the after party and head up to bed, and you saw your opportunity. Alexia had kept you close to her all night, and now you stood pressed up against her, one of her arms slung along your neck. You’d been fiddling with the rings on your fingers when you saw Ingrid and Mapi slip away. You knew what they were up to. Lucy pulled Ona out of the room after that, but you were quite sure the Englishwoman just wanted to get some ice on the poor girl’s face. Once a few more of your teammates had left the room, you turned to tuck your face into Alexia’s chest, knowingly exactly how to get her to take you upstairs. 

If you were horny, she’d make you wait, just a bit. Even if she was too. If you pretended to be tired, though, she’d take you upstairs faster, so you let your eyes fall shut as you listened to the steady thump of Alexia’s heartbeat in your ear, just barely audible over the loud music pumping into the room from Patri’s speaker. 

“Tired?” Alexia asked gently, her hand gently placed on the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly. 

You nodded against her. It wasn’t a lie, you were tired. You’d played 60 minutes in an incredibly physical match. You were just much more interested in activities other than sleeping at the moment. 

“Vale, let’s go up.” She paired the words with a soft kiss to your head, keeping you held close to her as you both bid your teammates a goodnight and exited the room. She was being incredibly gentle with you as she led you upstairs, but you really hoped that would change soon. 

-------

“I thought you were tired?” Alexia huffed, breaking away from the deep kiss you’d pulled her into the minute the hotel room door had shut behind you. 

“I am.” You shrugged, letting your lips drift down to her jaw and work their way down her neck. 

“Just not too tired for this?” She wondered teasingly, while still holding a note of concern in her voice. 

“Nope.” 

“Promise?” Alexia asked gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you looked up at her. 

“Promise.” You confirmed. That was all she needed to hear before she was backing you up against the wall, one hand on the small of your back, the other threading through your hair. Her hands were everywhere, really, fluttering over your skin before settling at the hem of your shirt, trying to tug it up. You let her pull it off you, blushing slightly at the smirk that adorned Alexia’s features as she gazed down at you, before she was moving back in.She wasn’t being gentle anymore as she kissed you, and you were glad for it, though you still had a few things to do before this could go any further. 

“Ale,” you hummed.

“Hmm?” She didn’t pull back, nails scratching bluntly at your lower back. 

“Ale.” You repeated. 

Alexia groaned, but pulled away, giving you a cheeky smile to tell you that she wasn’t really annoyed. “What do you need mi amor?” 

“I need to wash the sunscreen off my face.” You whispered against her lips. “And I’m thirsty,” you added as an afterthought. She chuckled, gently pushing you away from her.

“Go wash your face. And take your clothes off.” 

“They’re already half off.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Go.” She instructed, turning you in the direction of the bathroom. She headed for her suitcase and you were rather excited to see what she was searching for. 

-------

When you exited the bathroom completely bare, you found Alexia in the same state, except for the harness and dildo fixed over her hips. She was neatly folding her clothes, putting them in a pile on the dresser, but she placed something on top of the pile that grabbed your attention. 

She turned to look at you, a cocky grin on her face brought a matching grin onto your face. You walked closer, grabbing the captain's armband off her pile of clothes and motioning for her to hold her arm out. Now it was Alexia’s turn to blush, just a bit. 

“Amor,” she complained, though she held her arm out all the same. 

“Mi capitana.” You hummed, slipping the armband on and wrapping it around her bicep. 

You made eye contact with your girlfriend, noticing a spark in her eye that wasn’t there before. 

“Su capitana,” she whispered, tugging you closer to her. “Then you better listen to what I tell you to do, no?” 

“I should.” You agreed, fighting a smile. 

“Bueno. On your knees.” She instructed, guiding you down as you complied easily, knowing exactly what she had in mind. 

Alexia always let you set the pace with this, but you were in no mood to go slow. The intense makeout session before, combined with the dominant way Alexia was staring down at you combined to make you wet and aching. 

You took Alexia’s strap into your mouth, gagging slightly as you did so. You worked it down your throat much faster than you normally did, desperate to please your girlfriend, and desperate to get her to touch you. You could feel your inner thighs covered in slick, and you pressed them together for a hint of anything at all, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by Alexia, who’s eyes were glued to you.

“Fuck yourself while I fuck your throat.” She instructed, removing one of your hands from where it held her hip and gesturing for you to put it between your legs. You wanted her inside of you, now, her fingers, her cock, anything, but for now, her cock in your mouth and your fingers in your pussy would do. 

You were wet. Really wet, and your finger slipped easily through your folds and into your cunt. You were more focused on Alexia’s strap than you were on your own pleasure at that moment, though you still made sure to slip another finger in and stretch yourself out for her like you knew she wanted. You quickly found a rhythm that matched her hips thrusting her cock into your mouth, and you shifted, trying to get more comfortable. One of Alexia’s hands moved from the back of your head to trail up her abdomen and grab at her breast, giving it a rough squeeze. Your eyes followed the movement and before you knew it, you were caught up in drinking in the sight above you, your jaw going almost slack around Alexia’s cock. 

Her abs flexed with every movement, short breaths getting caught in her throat as she looked down at you. You were gazing up at her, captivated by the sight of her completely bare except for the captain’s armband wrapped around her bicep. Your eyes were wide, slightly watery, and your face was a mess, but you looked at your girlfriend with complete devotion, complete submission. 

“Joder,” Alexia groaned, the feeling of fucking your throat no longer doing it for her. She grabbed a fistfull of your hair and dragged you off her cock, hastily turning you around and bending you over the bed. You gasped slightly in shock at the change in position, but Alexia just leaned down, kissing messily across the skin of your back. “I need you now,” she whispered, her teeth nipping slightly at you. “I cannot wait.” 

You hung your head and took in a few shaky breaths, nodding quickly as she dragged herself through you, not yet pressing in. “Can you take it or do you need my fingers?” Alexia asked quickly, barely keeping herself from immediately fucking into you when your hips bucked back against her. 

“No, I can take it,” you told her breathlessly. The next second, she was burying herself inside of you, her cock hitting all the right places. 

“Jesus,” you cried, forgetting, or potentially not caring, that some of your teammates were just next door. You fisted the comforter in your hands, holding on for dear life as Ale railed into you. She fucked you frantically, desperate to get herself off and to get you off, like she’d been thinking about it all day. You certainly had. Ever since she tore her shirt off after scoring, you had barely been holding yourself back from her, and she knew it. Her wandering hands at the celebrations told you it, as did her insistence on having you now, as soon as she could. 

You barely heard the click of a button over the wet sounds your pussy was making, but then the strap was vibrating to life inside of you and your pleasure increased tenfold. Alexia’s forethought to bring the vibrating strap didn’t go unnoticed by you, and the slight cockiness that fueled that decision only turned you on more. As if she knew you’d win, as if she knew what she’d be doing as a celebration. 

Alexia wasn’t normally loud during sex, but you could hear her now with every grind and every thrust, grunting deep in her throat, her nails digging into your ass as she wrenched you back against her. Evidently, Alexia decided that was much too loud, because the sounds suddenly became muffled, and when you looked back at her, she’d stuffed her shirt in her mouth, holding onto it with her teeth, eyes shut, head thrown back. 

The 11 jersey dangled from her teeth, though she was still making noise deep in the back of her throat. You hadn’t realized how turned on you’d been since her goal celebration until that very moment, when you were reminded of it. 

And with the reminder of her goal, you were reminded of the pride you had for your girlfriend. You were proud of yourself, and of the team of course, but that didn’t compare to what you felt for Alexia. It was pride and it was pure joy. It was love, an all encapsulating and overwhelming love. It was emotion that didn’t quite match the rough sex you were having, and you were only more sure of Alexia’s perfection when she slowed down and very carefully flipped you onto your back. You let out a sharp breath at the feeling of her cock twisting inside of you, before you were lost in Alexia’s hazel eyes, her forehead pressing down into yours. You pulled the shirt from her mouth, tossing it onto the bed and leaning up for a kiss. Alexia moved closer, too, but she didn’t yet make contact. 

“Te amo mucho de menos, mi niña perfecta,” she whispered. She pressed her lips to yours, her hips beginning to pick up speed again, even as she leaned her weight down onto you. You kissed her back, hard, and slipped your tongue into her mouth. You couldn’t get her close enough to you, couldn’t feel her enough, but you weren’t giving up. Alexia tucked her face into the crook of your neck, exhaling sharply as you slid your hands down her back to grab at her ass, encouraging her to speed up the slow thrusting pace she was keeping. 

“I love you.” You whispered back. “And I need you to fuck me.” 

You felt your girlfriend grin into your skin, felt her shift slightly to hover above you. Her pace returned to the unforgiving one from before, and your head fell back against the mattress, a long whine coming from your mouth.  

Alexia grunted, a sound much quieter than the ones you were making. Her eyes were still so close to you, and it was all you could do to stare into them and watch the pleasure Alexia was feeling flash across her normally very composed face. 

“You feel so good amor,” she whispered breathily, dusting a few kisses onto the tip of your nose, her words an intense contradiction to the soft gesture. 

You couldn’t handle how soft she was being, while also fucking you so well. 

“Ale,” you whimpered, your voice louder than it should have been. Your girlfriend’s large hand slipped onto your face, covering your mouth as she hushed you. Her pace didn’t slow, though, if anything it picked up. The steady stimulation was getting you closer and closer, and all you wanted was more from her, to feel more from her. 

Alexia’s hand wasn’t doing much to lower the volume of the moans falling from your mouth. “Shh, mi niña, you have to be quiet,” she rasped, her lips nibbling at your ear. Before you could tell her that you couldn’t be quiet, she was sitting up onto her knees, spreading your legs wide, and yanking your body closer into her. It was an entirely different angle, and when she began to pound into you again, you could barely contain yourself, squirming against the mattress underneath her, almost overwhelmed from the pleasure. 

You let out a keening whine, one that was sure to be heard from anywhere nearby, and Alexia shushed you again. “Do I need to gag you?” She asked rhetorically, gently nudging your lips apart and slipping two fingers inside of your mouth. You groaned again, this time much quieter as you began to lick and suck at Alexia’s fingers. 

“Buena niña,” she cooed, picking up the pace of her hips. With your mouth preoccupied and Alexia’s jaw clenched tightly shut, the only audible sound in the room was the filthy smack of Alexia’s body meeting yours, and the wet slip of her cock moving in and out of you. 

And then her hand slid down your body, two fingers pressing into your clit, and you swore you saw stars. 

“I want you to come on my cock, vale?” Alexia said raspily, a small smirk tugging at her lips even as her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. “I want you to come when I fill you up.” 

A choked moan escaped from you around Alexia’s fingers and they pushed in further, pressing down against your tongue. Your girlfriend began to circle her fingers around your clit, starting slow but increasing the speed as your hips grinded down against her hand and her cock. Waves and waves of pleasure were washing over you and you weren’t sure where you stopped and where Alexia began. All you knew was that you just needed her to keep fucking going. 

You grabbed her wrist, pulled her fingers from your mouth and guided it to your throat. She gripped it in her hand and squeezed it slightly. Two of her fingers were wet against your skin, her fingers calloused and rough. 

Alexia was always soft where you needed her to be soft. And rough where you need her to be rough. When she released your neck and gripped at your hips to get better leverage it was paired with a soft whisper. 

“Are you close?” 

“Sí, so close Ale. I want to come with you.” You whined, body writhing against the mattress now. 

“Where, hmm? Where do you want me to come?” She asked teasingly. 

“In my pussy Ale, please, I need it,” you begged, your voice barely more than a whimper. 

Your girlfriend could only exhale sharply at your words and rub harder at your clit. 

“Come on, bebe, with me,” Alexia encouraged, the soft praise tugging you closer and closer to the edge. You could just lay there, try to jerk your hips down against Alexia as the pleasure began to overtake you. You heard Alexia swear above you, and you cried out her name as you came, feeling yourself clench violently around her strap. Alexia could barely move, but she didn’t need to. All she needed was to grind her hips where they were, get herself off on the stimulation of the strap vibrating against her clit. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she groaned, collapsing down onto you to shove her face into the crook of your neck. You clung tightly to her, Alexia’s body shuddering and shaking on you. You reached down in between you, clicking the button on the dildo to turn it off. It stilled inside of you, save for the occasional twitch of Alexia’s hips, and you tried to catch your breath. 

You were just recovering when Ale began to kiss at your neck again, sloppy wet kisses with just enough teeth involved that you knew she was going to be leaving marks. You didn’t really care. 

“Eres tan hermosa, tan bonita.” She mumbled against your skin. Your cheeks heated with a blush and you smiled at the ceiling threading your fingers through the baby hairs at the base of Alexia’s neck. She always got mushy after sex.

Or, if the way her hand was beginning to trail lightly down your abdomen was any indication, she always got mushy during sex. 

Alexia trailed kisses up your neck and down your jawline, nudging your head to press kiss the sweet spot right under your ear. 

“I want to taste you. I want to feel you on my fingers.” She murmured, before leaving a final kiss on your cheek and looking down at you adoringly. “Can I?” 

Who would say no? 

You were both sticky with sweat, still buzzing with adrenaline, and you had never felt such a deep yearning for another person in your life. It was almost comical how quickly after you nodded your head that Alexia was undoing the straps that had the dildo fastened to her waist, slipping out of it, and tossing it off the side of the bed.  

Alexia loved to have her tongue on you. She liked to savor every second, feel your thighs tighten against her head, feel your pussy pulse in her mouth. And she really loved to taste you. She took it slow, pressing loving kisses to your skin as she moved down your body, lacing her hands with yours just before she put her mouth on you. 

Alexia hummed at the taste of you, flicking her tongue carefully through your folds, knowing very well that you’d be sensitive. You were, and you twitched under her, squeezing her hands when she stiffened her tongue and began to work it against your clit. 

“You taste so good.” She groaned, pulling away to speak for just a second. Long enough for you to feel her hot breath on your core. You shivered, moaning softly and arching your back off the bed. “You are dripping, bebe, aye dios mío.”

“All for you.” You gasped, pulling your hands from hers and threading them through her hair, trying to press her closer into you. She took the opportunity, spreading your legs with her hands before stroking a careful finger over your entrance. 

“All for me? How lucky am I, to have the most beautiful girl in the world on my tongue, dripping all over my fingers? Screaming my name.” Alexia whispered filthily. “My good girl, opening up for me so well.” 

You whined at the praise, tugging lightly at the roots of her hair in an effort to tell her that you wanted more of it. Even if it took Alexia’s tongue off you, she kept it close enough that you could feel the vibrations of her words on you, her finger beginning to slide in and out of your pussy. 

“You like that? You like to hear how good you are for me?”

“Sí Ale, your good girl.” You cried, squirming slightly when Alexia slipped another finger into you. It wasn’t a stretch by any means but she was curling them perfectly inside of you, sliding over and over the spot inside of you that made you grab helplessly at the sheets. 

“My good girl.” She confirmed. “Are you going to make a mess on my fingers?”

“Mmhmm,” you sighed, trying to stop your legs from completely shutting around Alexia’s head. 

At the confirmation, Alexia returned her attention to your clit with a renewed eagerness. The combination of her fingers and her tongue were mind numbing, and you felt yourself hurtling over the edge once again. The blonde’s fingers fucked into your cunt rapidly through it, and just when you thought you felt that absolute best that you could, Alexia began to whisper against you as she pulled her tongue away from your clit, and slowed your fingers. 

“So good when your pretty pussy comes for me. My perfect girl.” Alexia cooed, enjoying the completely fucked out expression on your face. 

“Your perfect girl,” you whimpered back, wanting nothing more than to just be Alexia’s forever. Your girlfriend fixed her attention on your core, still leaking, still overwhelmingly wet, and knew what she wanted next. 

You’d barely come down at all before Alexia was lifting up her head from between your legs, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand, a slightly mischievous smile on her face. 

“I want to feel your pussy on mine,” Alexia rasped, swinging a leg over yours and pressing herself down onto you. She was soaking wet and she moved fast, clearly on edge from getting you off. Her body grinded perfectly down onto yours and your jaw practically dropped at the sight of her above you. Her abdomen tensing and untensing, her arms flexing as she held your legs apart. Her breasts bounced lightly as she moved, her hair half out of her ponytail. She was so enticing, so perfect, and she was yours. You could barely think straight. 

“Fuck, you are so wet,” the blonde sighed, and if you hadn’t been confident that any words that you tried to speak would come out as a garbled, whiny mess, you would have told her the same. 

Alexia knew just how to position herself to perfectly stimulate you both, her strong legs helping her grind back and forth, back and forth. You could hear how wet you both were, every inch Alexia moved making a filthy sound that only heightened everything. It was perfect, and even though you’d just come, Alexia had just gotten you off, you could feel your abdomen tightening, your legs really beginning to shake against the mattress. You moved against her as best you could, though it was hard to focus on grinding up into her when she was being so entirely distracting. 

You were close, bordering on overstimulation, but in the sweet spot where there wasn’t a single thought in your head other than the pleasure Alexia was bringing you. Alexia was close, too, her hips beginning to buck somewhat frantically, sharp breaths leaving her mouth at an increasing speed. 

“Bebe,” she cried, “I am- close,” 

Alexia wasn’t asking permission, she was setting an almost unspoken expectation, and you knew it. 

“Gonna come,” you told her, still out of breath even as your girlfriend did all the work above you. The sight of her alone took your breath away. 

“Dios mio, amor,” Alexia whined, her voice hitting a higher pitch as her hips stuttered. 

“Shit, Ale, don’t stop,” you moaned, gripping her hips in your hand to encourage her to speed up. That did it for both of you, the added contact and the added speed combining to push you both over the edge. 

Alexia cried out, much louder than she normally was. It lasted longer for you, until Alexia could feel your pussy pulsing against hers. You pushed at her hips, needing even the slight stimulation of her wet cunt on you to stop. 

“Too much,” you whimpered, tugging on Alexia’s hand in an attempt to get her to come closer. She did, climbing off you and collapsing onto her back, immediately tugging you into her arms so that your head was resting comfortably on her chest. 

You lazily kissed at the skin of her chest before looking up at her. She was already looking down at you, a small smile on her dazed face. 

“You are so fucking beautiful.” She whispered, thumb brushing over the flush of your cheeks. 

You shook your head gently. “You are perfect.” 

“Hmm.” Alexia hummed, dragging you up closer to her, until she could plant a kiss on your cheek. “No, you.” 

There was really no use arguing, though you had 4 reasons from today alone why Alexia was the perfect one in the relationship. 1 insane goal, and 3 other… convincing things. 

Your eyes shut and Alexia watched as you grew sleepier and sleepier. She didn’t forget the look on your face just a few minutes ago, one of awe and love. You looked at her the same way when she scored, when she ran for the first time after her second surgery. When she bought you flowers and coffee on a sunday morning, and when you rolled over in the morning to find her already awake, just looking at you. Alexia was so much more than just a footballer to you, and she really, really loved that. And you. 

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i didn't proof read so. as always. tell me if you find typos.

hope you enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻🙃🙃🙂🙂🙂

[rachalixie]

a/n: my tiktok feed has been full of the orange peel theory and i know minho would be the perfect research participant for it.

“i really want an orange,” you sigh, nuzzling a little further into where you were buried into minho. he hums in agreement, eyes flickering to you for a moment before trailing back to the tv. 

“we just got some tangerines from jeju,” he strokes a hand up your arm. “they’re on the counter.”

“yeah,” you pout up at him, leaning forward and trying to catch his eye but he keeps them trained on the screen. “but i don’t want to peel them.”

“then i guess you’re not getting an orange,” he snarks, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips when you huff and relax back into him. you grumble a bit and he ignores you, the only inclination of his attention being the hand he continues to stroke up and down your arm. 

a few moments later he shuffles out from under you, leaving you hunched into the place in the couch he was just occupying. you shoot him a glance that’s half curious and half accusatory, a bubble of hope building up in you. 

“just gotta use the bathroom,” he explains, and the bubble bursts. right. 

“hurry back,” you tell him, and you’re sure you look a bit ridiculous sprawled out like you are. 

“okay, boss,” he rolls his eyes, leaving the room swiftly, and for the first time tonight your attention is fully on the tv. he really doesn’t know how distracting he is, even when he’s not doing anything. 

he comes back just as the episode is ending, and you can tell that it’s going to end on a cliffhanger. you don’t look away from the screen as you recap him on what he’s missed, filling in the details that have led to the scene right now that has your heartbeat in a chokehold. 

you let him slot himself next to you again, lifting yourself up so he could slide under you and settling your head down into his lap, your gaze not wandering from the tv for a single second. it’s only when the episode finishes and the tv screen turns black with end credits that you notice it. 

the smell of fresh oranges. 

you might have explained it by the scent of the fruity hand soap he keeps stocked in your bathroom, but that one is lemon scented, not orange. a quick flick of your eyes upwards fills in the gap, and you’re shooting up from his lap with a blinding grin on your face so quickly that your head spins. 

“careful!” he warns, balancing the plate of freshly peeled orange slices in one hand as he steadies you with the other. 

“you peeled me oranges!” you can’t stop smiling as you ignore his reprimand. 

“yeah? you said you wanted some,” he furrows his brow, looking a bit confused, which is entirely unfair. he knows that he has tsundere tendencies. 

“you passed the orange peel theory test,” you gush at him, taking a slice into your hands and holding it like it was something precious. 

“i passed the what?” 

“i’m going to eat these oranges,” you continue as if he wasn’t talking, popping the slice in your mouth and groaning at the taste immediately. it’s so good. “and then i’m going to make out with you. for a long time.”

“well if this is the reward i’m going to get, i’ll peel you oranges every day.”

—

soft hours

[sweetbans29]

Catch Me If You Can - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You were untouchable, until one summer day (based on THIS request)

Warnings: cuteness

Word Count: 4.5k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I may have done a little too much with the backstory...

You were born and raised in Iowa City. Grew up going to all the local farmers markets and participating in any and all town events. Your parents are both teachers at the University of Iowa, your mom is a business professor, and your dad is an English professor. A lot of your time was spent on campus which made you pretty known starting at a very young age.

It started when you were a little girl, your parents would bring you to lectures and you would sit in the corner and do whatever you could to keep yourself occupied. The students in your classes never minded and would often come and color with you or read with you when class was over and your parents stayed around to answer questions.

When you were in middle school you would go to campus every day after school to do homework. It would either be in your parent’s offices while they had class and/or hosted office hours or they would let you go to one of the coffee shops on campus, as long as you were with one of their trusted students. At this point, you were pretty well-known on campus by both students and faculty.

Things pretty much stayed the same when you got to high school. You never really had many friends at your own school but had so many the second you stepped foot on campus. You continued to spend most of your time there - most of it studying but sometimes going to campus events (if your parents were okay with that).

The University of Iowa had always been your fate. With both of your parents working there, it was a no-brainer that's where you would be attending school. It also helped that you knew the campus like the back of your hand and were already known. It made going to college less intimidating.

For your high school graduation - there was a group of students at Iowa that hosted a view party since they all couldn't go to your graduation. If you got more than 8 tickets, they would have been there in a heartbeat. They live-streamed it from one of the lecture halls. You didn't know at the time but it filled up with students and faculty all super proud of your accomplishment and ready to have you as an official student. After your graduation, your parents took you back to campus saying they had a surprise - it turned out to be a surprise grad party with a couple hundred people from campus. You have never felt more loved than you did that day.

When fall rolled around, you started your journey as a Hawkeye. Campus felt like home and had become home when your parents gave you the option to commute or live on campus. It was a no-brainer as it was your dream to live on campus and would try and convince your parents to let you stay overnight ever since you were in 4th grade.

Your first year goes as expected. You started to make solid friends. Everyone knew you around campus and if they didn't they for sure knew of you. You would do homework at the same on-campus coffee shops and began to venture out more as you began studying on lawns and in different places to switch up the scenery. Freshman year was everything you had hoped and more.

Going into your second year at Iowa was about the same as the first. Campus remained comfortable for you. You couldn't go anywhere without several people stopping to say hello - people thought it would be annoying but you genuinely loved talking to people. You were well-known and well-loved by pretty much everyone.

As active as you were on campus, one area you never really paid attention to was sports. Your parents never made them a priority thus you never made them one either. Another reason they kept you away from games was because of the reputation a lot of the players had around campus. Ever since you started hanging out around campus in high school - your parents made it known that you were off limits and would remain off limits. It became an unspoken word on campus.

Even with your parents, relationships were never a priority for you. Not to say it was something you didn't want because there were times that you really did long to have the same experiences as your peers. After high school though, relationships weren't even a thought. It was interesting because it wasn't like there weren't people interested, but more so there was no one that you found interesting. Seeing your parent's love, your bar was raised far higher than any college student could really commit to.

It surprises you how frequently you get asked out. It isn't weekly but you consistently have people coming up to ask you out. It unofficially became a game on campus - specifically among athletes. They would place bets on who could get you to say yes to going out with them but nobody ever availed.

You of course learned about the whole thing when one of the guys you were friends with let you know out of respect for you. He was one of the waterboys for the men's basketball team and overhead them taking bets on who could get you to say yes. John always kept an eye out for you - he was a year older than you and treated you as his little sister. He has 3 little sisters at home, as he was the oldest and the first to leave for college - watching you was a second nature to him especially since he was one of your parent's favorite students.

When John learned it was more than the basketball guys and more teams were jumping in to see who could court you, he made it a point to make sure you always felt comfortable on campus. Not that he ever doubted you, but doubted all the guys and girls trying to get in your pants.

You were sitting and waiting for John and some other friends to meet up with you when you were approached yet again.

The star of the school's water polo team approaches you while you are studying on the lawn.

"Hey," he says trying to get your attention. You finish typing out your sentence then look up at him.

"Hi," you say with a smile. "It's Erick, right?"

He flashes a smile when you know his name. "Ya, we are in the same stats class."

You nod.

"Hey, I was just wondering if you were free this Friday night? The team has a game and it would be cool it if you came. We could go grab ice cream or something after and hang out." He asks with the confidence of you knowing who he is.

You give a light smile.

"Erick, I am sure you are a nice guy," you say - knowing all too well that he was not. It was just last week that he took a cheerleader out then was caught making out with one of her teammates the next day. "But I'm just not interested."

"Good luck on your game though - should be a tough one," you say and he walks away.

John comes up catching the tail end of the encounter and gives you a look.

"Another one?" He asks as you get up from the grass.

"Yep, nothing new - he went with the 'come watch my game then we can hang out' bit. You would think they would all get the hint considering I haven't been to a single Iowa game." You say.

"They all want to be the first," John says. You laugh.

"Well jokes on them," you say as the two of you head to meet up with the rest of your group.

You get through the rest of the semester with only a few more people attempting to ask you out. You never mention it to your parents because the last thing you need is them making some big fuss about something you have a pretty good handle on.

That summer is one where things took a turn in a direction you would have never expected.

A majority of your summer was spent around town at your favorite coffee shops. They would be your favorite place to read. It was something you did every summer at the same coffee shops - so much so that they would have a reserved sign at the table you would always sit at.

It was a gloomy morning when the shop was extra busy. You had been settled in for a while now and were sucked into your book. You are used to the buzz of the coffee shop but are pulled out when you hear a loud sound.

You look up and see a frazzled girl, bending over and collecting the bag she just dropped. You set down your book and immediately help the girl. You gather some things and stand up, passing them to her.

"Thank you," she says, still flustered from how busy the coffee shop is.

"Of course," you say with a smile, hopefully easing her.

"I came here hoping to have a quiet morning not realizing how busy it was going to be. I heard this is the best place to come to work," she says.

"Well I agree that this is the best place to work - it typically isn't this busy. I think there is an event going on in town this week. If you are looking for a table, you are more than welcome to join me," you say as you sit back down.

"Thank you," she says and sits immediately. It is just after she sits when you see her relax. You introduce yourself, offering your hand to shake. She reaches out and shakes it. She knows who you are - everyone knew who you were but thought it would be better to just keep your meeting simple.

"I'm Caitlin," she says. You smile at her - also knowing who she is. She had quickly became one of the faces on campus - the 'basketball superstar'.

"It's nice to meet you," you say with a smile. "You are always welcome at my table."

She notices the 'Reserved' sign on it and laughs.

"Did they do that for you?" She asks.

"Ya," you say with a laugh. "I've been sitting here for years now."

The two of you spend the rest of the morning working independently. You locked into your book shortly after your conversation missing the stolen glances Cait would take of you.

Caitlin took you up on your offer every day for the next several weeks. She even went out and got books to read just to come and spend time with you. The two of you would chat when she first got there, then would settle in and being reading for a few hours until you both got hungry. What started as a place for Caitlin to sit turned into so much more. The two of you started getting lunch together and really getting to know one another.

It's in the final month of summer when Caitlin asks you on a proper date. You are unsure at first but remind yourself that she isn't a stranger. The two of you have genuinely gotten to know each other over the course of the summer and you trust her.

It is after that first date that you decide Caitlin is worth it but if you were to ask her when she knew you were it, she would have said that first morning in the coffee shop.

Heading back into the school year, there were subtle changes in your day-to-day. You would still be on campus to study in all of your favorite places but when it came to grabbing your mid-morning smoothie, Caitlin would be waiting outside your first class of the day - smoothie in hand, waiting to walk you to your next class. Caitlin made it a point to be a part of your morning, just like you did in the summer.

It slowly became something Caitlin's team noticed - the first one being Gabby who passed by Caitlin holding two smoothies outside of one of the lecture halls.

"Cait - what are you doing here? Isn't your next class on the other side of campus?" Gabby asks when she sees her teammate.

"Ya, just catching up with a friend," Caitlin says, hoping Gabby will go before you come out. One of the things Caitlin had learned while getting to know you was the bitter taste athletes gave you. Caitlin was slowly changing that but didn't want to give you any reason to backtrack. She also hadn't told the team that she had started seeing you over the summer and would like to keep it that way for as long as she can. Not to hide you, but she valued having you all to herself. And she knew that the second her team found out - she would lose you to them. You were too incredible.

Gabby nods but her suspicion remains.

"Whatever you say Cait," she says and continues to walk. "I'll see you at practice."

Gabby turns a corner but stays in the vicinity - wanting to see the mystery person Caitlin is waiting for.

You walk out of class and see Cait standing against a wall with two smoothies in her hands. You make your way over to her and she meets you halfway.

"Why hello there," you say with a smile. She passes you one of the smoothies.

"Your favorite," she says and you thank her.

The two of you proceed to walk to your next class, missing a hiding gabby who sees Caitlin is walking with you. Gabby can't wait to take the news back to the team. Everyone knows you are not a fan of Iowa sports but here you are walking about with one of the biggest stars on campus. She also doesn't believe that Caitlin is one to wait outside of someone's class with a drink in hand only to walk them in the opposite direction of where she is going.

Later that day Caitlin arrived at practice to find her team bombarding her with questions.

"Woah, woah, woah - what's going on?" She asks overwhelmed.

"Gabby told us who you were spotted with and we think that is the cutest thing ever," Jada says - excited for her teammate.

Caitlin feels her cheeks heat up.

"How did you swing talking to her?" Another teammate asks. "She practically hates every sports team on campus."

"She doesn't hate us - well you know the shit that goes around with teams asking her out and making bets and stuff. It's left a bad taste in her mouth. It's not like they were discrete about it anyways." Caitlin says backing you up.

"Ya but still, I mean what makes you different - Cait you are the biggest name on campus right now and it is only junior year," Sydney says.

Caitlin shrugs, opting to leave how the two of you spent the summer out of the conversation.

"Is it even like that?" Kate asks. "I mean she could just be a friend."

"A friend that Caitlin goes out of her way to get a smoothie for then walk to class?" Gabby scoffs. "No ya, sure sounds like a friend to me."

The team keeps making fun of Caitlin to which she never confirms or denies any of their allegations. The two of you had been on several dates but never really solidified what you were to each other so Caitlin didn't feel like it was proper to bring it up when the two of you really didn't even know what you are yet.

"There is no way Caitlin could pull her - I mean it's CC, can you imagine her dating at all? Let alone the campus's princess." One of the girls says in a joking manner. Caitlin knows her team means well but it sort of rubs her the wrong way when they think she isn't worth your time.

Caitlin speaks before thinking.

"What if I get her to come to a game - would you believe it then?" Caitlin asks and immediately regrets it.

"No way in hell could you get her to come to a game," Jada says. "I've heard she's never gone to a sporting event nor will go near one with a ten-foot pole."

"Ya, but if she comes, then you'll all shut up about this?" Caitlin asks hoping it will be enough to just get you to a game.

"Get her there in your jersey and we will know it's real," Gabby says.

Caitlin grumbles but agrees.

After practice, Caitlin messages you and asks to meet up. You tell her to come over and that you will be making chocolate chip cookies - you know they are her favorite. Her mom also happened to send you home with her famous recipe after Caitlin brought you home once during the summer. It was before she asked you on a date - it was actually quite spontaneous.

"Would you be up for joining me on a little trip home? I told my brothers I would be there for an event of theirs. It won't be long but I don't want to make the drive alone." Caitlin asks you at the end of one of your mornings.

"I would love to," you say and she just casually mentions she is heading there now. When you still agree to join her - she is ecstatic but hides it well.

The two of you head to her home, talking the whole way there. When you get there Caitlin goes to help her brothers and you stay with her mom, she is baking for the event. You help her make her chocolate chip cookies and tell her about yourself. She then tells you all the stories of when Caitlin was little. You couldn't help but grow fonder of the girl after hearing about her childhood.

When the two are heading out, Anne pulls you into a hug and asks you to watch over her baby girl. You smile and nod. She then proceeds to stick something in your pocket - her chocolate chip cookie recipe.

Caitlin gets to your apartment and instantly recognizes the smell of her favorite cookies. You pull them out right after she gets there.

"Are these," she begins and picks one of them up right away.

"Caitlin! You are going to burn yourself!" You swat at her hand but she is too fast for you. She takes a bite of the cookie, blowing out the hot air and trying not to burn her tongue. Once she is able to enjoy it, her eyes close and she lets out a moan.

"You like them?" You ask, already seeing her answer. She finishes the cookie before speaking.

"Just like home. How did you get these?" She asks finally opening her eyes and going for another.

"From the one and only, Mrs. Clark - told me to take care of you," you say with a smile. "And I know that the only real way to care for you is through cookies."

Caitlin looks at you in awe and her mind begins going a mile a minute. Her mom doesn't give her recipe out to anyone - she doesn't know what you did in the kitchen with her that one day but seeing as you have her full approval, Caitlin begins to seriously consider what life would be like with you.

You can see the gears turning in her head.

"Talk to me," you say to her with a little laugh. "I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears. What's going on?"

Caitlin wants to tell you how much it means to her that you made her cookies, her mom's cookies. She wants to tell you how she misses how it was just you and her like it was during the summer and wishes the two of you could go back to that. She wants to tell you how she has started talking to your parents about you and how they have unofficially given her the okay to take you on a date (she didn't tell them how she had already taken you out but that is beside the point).

"How would you feel about coming to my game this Friday?" She asks, settling on getting this out of the way first.

You stand there putting more cookies on the cookie sheet, thinking over her question.

"I know you don't go to games and how much you aren't a fan of Iowa sports, especially with all the athlete's track records with you," she is cut off by you.

"Ya but I am a fan of you," you say which earns a little chuckle. Her heart skips a beat but she continues.

"But we are playing one of our biggest rivals and I think it would be neat to have you there," she says debating on adding the part about her team. She thinks about all you have been through and decides it is better to be honest upfront.

"And my team doesn't think I can get you there," Caitlin says nervously.

You look up at her amused, kind of shocked she would think you would be open to it. But you ponder it.

"It's not a bet - you know I am not like those other guys and girls. You know that right?" She asks.

You just look at her.

"Please tell me you know I am not like them," she says beginning to panic.

"Yes, CC, I know you are not like them."

"One of them saw me waiting outside of one of your classes and started saying that you're out of my league and it irked me." She says.

"And you thought it would be a good idea to tell them that I would go to your game and what? Cheer you on? Wear your jersey?" You press her.

"Well, ya - kind of," she says shyly.

You don't know why but this whole thing should make you uneasy but it doesn't. Not one person has actually told you to your face that their team was betting on you. Caitlin sought out talking to you about it - but in her words, it wasn't a bet.

"Okay." You say and her head shoots to look at you.

"Okay?" She asks.

"Okay."

Friday comes around and you look at yourself in the mirror. You are wearing Caitlin's jersey with some black leggings. You are second-guessing your decision and want to back out but know that's not an option.

You head to the game with your friend John. Caitlin got you two tickets which you instantly asked John to join you for.

The game is intense - watching Cait on the court was mesmerizing to you. She is electric on the court and you wish you had started watching her sooner. It's easy to see why so many people love her.

The game ends and Iowa takes the win by 4.

You turn to John.

"Should I go down to her? I don't know if I should wait until she is done or what to do," you say nervous.

"Go to her - show her how proud you are of her. Be the excited girlfriend," John says with a smile.

"She's not my girlfriend," You mumble.

"Just go," he says and pushes you towards the court.

You walk down to the now-packed court looking for Cait.

When you see her, you begin making your way to her. When her eyes find yours, she lights up. When you get to her you jump into her arms and she spins you around.

"You were incredible," you whisper in her ear.

"Thank you," she says with the biggest smile.

She puts you down and the two of you just look at one another. She finally speaks.

"I like you in my jersey," she says and you blush.

"Please stop," you say and hide your face.

"You're cute," she keeps teasing you.

"Okay okay, I'm going to go now," you say and begin to walk away.

"Wait no," she says and grabs your arm. "I'll be good. I promise."

You stop walking away and turn back to her.

"Come meet my team?" She asks and you nod.

You make your way to some of her teammates as Caitlin introduces you to them. You shake all of their hands then stick to Caitlin's side.

They all try to hide how shocked they are but don't do a real great job with it.

"You all look surprised I am here," you say with a laugh.

"We are - you are sort of known for avoiding sporting events like the plague," Kate says with genuine intent.

"Well, I decided to make an exception for a special little someone," you say and pinch Caitlin's side causing her to blush. All of her teammates take note and poke fun at her.

"Why Caitlin?" Sydney asks boldly and Kate hits her. "What? I am genuinely curious - Caitlin isn't the easiest person to be around."

You laugh and smile up at Caitlin. Then shrug.

"She puts up with me," you say.

"Ya but you're the campus's sweetheart," Sydney says.

"Don't let her fool you," Caitlin jokes and you hit her arm. She puts her hands up in surrender.

"Oh you two are cute," Kate says.

"I can see now why CC was playing extra hard today," Jada says coming over.

"Okay, you are all embarrassing me," Caitlin says and excuses the two of you. The team wants to get to know you more and protests but you follow Caitlin. She leads you to the tunnel where it is not so crowded.

"They are all sweet," you say.

"If by sweet you mean embarrassing then ya, they are great," she says laughing and rubbing her forehead.

You turn to face her.

"What is your intention with me, Clark." You say boldly, catching her a little off guard.

"Well, I really enjoy spending time with you - and I like you, but everyone likes you so that is really a given," she says stringing along more little comments.

The once confident All-American, now a blabbering mess.

"Caitlin Clark," you say pulling her out of her jumble of words. "Ask me to be your girlfriend."

She stands there looking at you, takes a deep breath, and takes your hands.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" She asks, her eyes locked on yours.

Without blinking, you respond.

"No."

"What? You literally just told me to ask you," she says with protest.

You laugh and she catches on to you.

"You are unbelievable," she says.

"I may be but I'm your girlfriend now, so you are just going to have to deal with me," you say.

"Well you just said no, so it looks like I am still on the market," Caitlin says now teasing you.

"Mmhmm, sure you are," you say wrapping your arms around her neck as her arms wrap around your waist. She laughs and looks into your eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you now," you say.

She waits and you stop leaning in - she takes you in.

"Okay," she says and your lips meet hers for the first time. The first time but certainly not the last.

AN: This may be one of my favorites...ever. But my opinion doesn't matter, let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for all the love and support 🤍

[moonjxsung]

No Guts / No Glory

Copyright Ⓒ 2024 by Moonjxsung

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.

Read part 1 here.

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem reader

W/c: 18.2k

Warnings: nipple/breast play, clitoral stimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, sex in a semi-public establishment (no one is around), creampie, spitting during sex, depictions of bodily harm, descriptions of blood

Synopsis: Bang Chan competes in the biggest title boxing fight of his life, terrified at the prospect of losing two things now- this match, and you.

18+. Mdni!

•

“The whole world’s watching him. I don’t blame him for wanting to walk away from all of this- I would, too.”

•

Contrary to the truths of a boxer, a trainer’s punctuality is typically admirable.

And Mr. Seo is no different, you quickly learn, as he enters the interviewing studio at a whole five minutes prior to his call time.

He’s a bit hesitant to approach you at first, the same way Chan once was, bowing politely as you gesture to the folding director’s chair across from you. And when he finally takes his seat, smoothing down a sleek black blazer he wears paired with a silk blue tie, you take notice of the way his jacket seems to constrict around the broad muscles he flaunts, the buttons of his shirt practically clinging onto the fabric that hugs his chest.

“Thanks for having me,” he says respectfully, giving you a small nod as his lips pull into a closed-mouth smile.

“Thanks for being here,” you say nervously, scanning his gaze in hopes of reading him better.

But he’s entirely unreadable, evident in the way his eyes don’t leave yours, awaiting some form of instruction as you toy with the camera and ensure it’s begun recording.

“Could you state your name, and relationship to the subject for the camera?” You begin, swallowing a lump in your throat as he folds his hands in his lap and shifts his gaze to the lens.

“Mr. Seo,” he begins, clearing his throat before continuing. “Bang Chan’s personal trainer.”

To which you then nod, satisfied with the introduction, as you begin the interview.

“How long have you been training Bang Chan?” You inquire, observing the way he furrows his brows in concentration.

“Gosh,” he begins, exhaling a sharp breath before beginning his response. “Around ten years now. It was just a hobby for him, when we initially began. I don’t think either of us figured he’d be participating in a title fight one day.”

“What’s it been like, watching him grow so quickly?”

“Exhausting,” Mr. Seo admits, slouching back in his seat as he now crosses his arms across his chest. “He loses his winning streak, I lose all my credibility.”

He chuckles as he finishes, shaking his head and gesturing with a wave of his hand. “I’m kidding. Chan’s great. He’s a perfectionist, and he’s as stubborn as they come, but he’s very talented. It’s all him.”

Your gaze remains on his in a passing moment of silence, desperate to ask him all the burning questions heavy on your mind this evening; how Chan had reacted to the agonizingly transparent rendition of his docu-series. What he’d spoken to Mr. Seo about, upon the realization that the private conversations you’d shared with him had now been broadcast to thousands of anticipatory viewers. His most vulnerable emotions on display for the whole world, your betrayal made apparent with the sweeping number of viewers the episode had garnered. And especially how he’s doing now, considering he’s failed to answer any of your calls since the episode’s broadcast.

Your heartbeat quickens in your chest as you think back to the series, and you shake your head as you’re brought back to the present moment once more, Mr. Seo sat across from you as he awaits another question.

“Could you tell us how your relationship to Bang Chan first started?”

Mr. Seo thinks it over briefly, his eyes scanning the ceiling, and then he nods once before beginning.

“He was only fourteen. Walked into our gym like he owned the place. I watched him from outside the ring, and he caught my eye because he seemed so angry, the way he threw uppercuts like a pro. I suggested he softened his hits a little- work on his form, instead of just his strength. He kept coming back, and I took him under my wing.”

Mr. Seo sighs, and then he uncrosses his arms, grasping his knees lightly before continuing.

“Maybe I should’ve seen it back then,” he finishes.

You furrow your brows, cocking your head as you observe his gaze fall to the floor.

“Seen what back then?”

He shrugs lightly, as though he’s unsure of his response, and then he delivers an answer much harsher than you’re anticipating.

“That he doesn’t want to do this.”

There’s a silence in the room as he shuffles around in his seat, and then his eyes flicker over the lens of the camera before you can utter a response.

“You mean… the fame,” you question, your eyebrows knitting together as you ponder his words.

“Boxing,” he clarifies.

The silence grows louder the second time around, and your back rests flat upon the back of the back of the chair as you allow yourself to get a little more situated in your seat.

“He doesn’t want to box anymore,” Mr. Seo repeats, pursing his lips and nodding to affirm his statement. He seems to think for a moment, as though carefully recalling Chan’s words, before elaborating.

“He’s wanted to quit for years now. He gets in these mental slumps, where I can’t get him to do anything. Nobody can. At first, I thought it was just for fear of losing that damn winning streak. I’ve since realized it’s more than that.”

He seems to fix on something in the distance beyond your seated figure, and you shift in your seat nervously, waiting for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, you nod meekly in his direction, gesturing for him to continue.

“What is it, then?”

Mr. Seo is quiet again, chewing on the inside of his lip as he deciphers an adequate response.

“Tell me,” he begins. “You ever stood in the middle of that ring?”

You think back to all those times with Chan, staring out at the rows of punching bags that line the walls, the gallery of famous boxers peering down over the vast space and the suffocating confines of the wired rope that lines the four corners.

“Yeah,” you say to him. “Few times.”

“What’d it feel like to you?”

Nerve-wracking. Entirely too large- and yet somehow still claustrophobic, all at once. Intimidating, daunting. Voyeuristic.

“It’s awful,” you voice back, swallowing a knot in your throat. “It’s so… public.”

He nods understandingly.

“Fourteen years,” he echoes back. “He’s been under that pressure. On an unbroken winning streak since he started professionally. He’s been dubbed ‘miracle athlete’, ‘athletic genius’- you name it. I’ve never seen him more miserable.”

You don’t say anything just yet, realizing this is exactly what Mrs. Bang couldn’t seem to coax out of him. The harsh reality that although it’s his passion, his lifelong dream to win this title fight, perhaps boxing just doesn’t serve the same purpose it once did for him. It’s now accompanied by the constant expectation to win, the all-consuming fear of what it means to lose, more eyes on him as his private life is publicized and monetized. And now the crushing reality that his reservations surrounding the sport have been televised, much to his utter dismay.

As you make sense of his words, your gaze snaps to the camera, at the blinking red light that indicates this conversation is being recorded, too. Your hand darts out to the shutter release, in an effort to not repeat the same mistakes, and Mr. Seo chuckles when he takes notice of your urgency.

“It’s fine,” he says simply, eyes fixed on the lens again. “He knows I’m airing it all out. It was his request, actually.”

Your motions come to a halt as he speaks of Chan, and you turn to catch his gaze once more, eyebrows arching in an apologetic expression as you find the words to say.

“How is he?” You ask, completely veering off your list of required questions, as you inquire about Bang Chan’s whereabouts.

“It’s been days,” you continue. “I didn’t know they were going to televise all of it. He trusted me, and I get if he doesn’t want anything to do with all of this-”

“He was a little taken aback,” Mr. Seo interjects. “I haven’t heard too much from him, either.”

“You haven’t?” You echo, feeling a pit form in your stomach at the fact that he’s even chosen to distance himself from his trainer in the aftermath.

“Not aside from his request to be as honest with you as possible,” he affirms. “Relay whatever he’s unable to say.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and then you gesture to the camera again.

“You mean… he wants this to be broadcasted?”

He nods, pursing his lips.

You can’t fathom why he’d want this conversation part to be televised, knowing very well that even Chan himself has trouble opening up about the subject. And now he’s urged Mr. Seo to relay these truths to the viewers- the truths that boxing has kept him in a mental slump for the better part of his whole career now. That his favorite sport is just another burden he bears, alongside a long list of fancy titles and recognitions. And that he simply doesn’t want to be a boxer anymore. Confessions that could hurt him preceding the title fight- and may only indicate one final outcome.

“He can’t quit,” you voice quietly. “He wouldn’t just leave all of this behind him… right?”

“It’s hard to say,” Mr. Seo responds. “He’s in another one of his slumps. He’s missing schedules, the fight’s just around the corner. Chan’s done this before, but it seems pretty serious this time around. The whole world’s watching him. I don’t blame him for wanting to walk away from all of this- I would, too.”

The pit in your stomach seems to grow tenfold as he speaks, and despite his assurances to record the conversation, your hand darts out to stop the recording anyway.

“He can’t quit,” you say again. “This is his life’s dream. He said it himself- losing scares the shit out of him. Doesn’t forfeiting fulfill the same thing?”

“I’m sure it does,” he counters, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips. “I’ve talked him out of it a dozen times before. Unfortunately I can’t get through to him this time around.”

Your eyes dart over the camera, and then back to Mr. Seo, as you ponder Chan’s words tirelessly.

Maybe you should’ve seen this coming long before it got to this point- his desire to walk away from all of this has been evident for as long as you’ve known him. The anger that festers deep down inside of him as he throws uppercuts in the ring, the way he gets so fixated on his sport, he shuts out the rest of the world around him. His fear of losing, but also a hatred for winning so consistently. Putting greater trust and vulnerability in a journalist rather than the people he’s known all his life.

Mr. Seo seems to take notice of your distress, cocking his head to meet your gaze which falls onto the tiled floor beneath his leather shoes.

“Hey,” he voices gently. “None of this is your fault. Somebody who’s that down on himself is bound to come to terms with it eventually. He doesn’t resent you, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

He shuffles in his seat once more, and then he sighs a little before speaking again.

“He has a training session tomorrow, in the evening. If he makes it, you can swing by after and get a word in with him. Just don’t say I sent you.”

You nod at his words, swallowing nervously as you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater in your lap. And then you meet his gaze once more, furrowing your brows before speaking.

“Mr. Seo,” you begin. “Why wouldn’t he resent me? I’m no better than the spectators. If anything, I’m worse. Chan probably wants me dead as we speak.”

He chuckles lightly before shaking his head.

“You’re just doing your job,” he explains. “Everybody is well aware of that.”

He thinks for a moment, before continuing.

“I haven’t seen him come to terms with his own emotions like this before- maybe ever. All he knew was anger for so long- I saw it from the moment I met him at the tender age of fourteen. He’s finally being honest with himself about what’s causing these mental slumps. It’s a level of vulnerability I’ve never witnessed in him before- it’s hardly possible when he’s constantly being told to ‘man up’ by the rest of the world. Did you know he cried in front of me the other day?”

Mr. Seo shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest.

“He did, if you can believe it. He really cried.”

And you say nothing, in response, simply thinking back to the sight of Bang Chan crying in front of you first, back at his apartment. The way tears cascaded over his hurt expression, and the way he had sniffled in between shaky confessions that losing is what scares him. Losing a boxing match, losing his passion, losing sight of his future in the careful process of finding himself. Forfeiting the biggest title fight of his life, and walking away from all of this as nothing more than a loser.

And perhaps losing you, too- the one person he still finds some semblance of sacredness in.

“Thank you,” you voice to Mr. Seo, as you reach out to shake his hand. “I’m going to talk to him. I’m going to make this right.”

*

The following evening lulls by painfully slow, as you wait for word from Mr. Seo. Your work doesn’t see you in for the afternoon, as you dismiss yourself early to prepare for the conversation at hand in the comfort of your apartment.

And realistically, what can you say to Bang Chan, to convince him not to walk away from this title fight?

I’m sorry nothing is sacred to you anymore. I’m sorry you’re held to such unsustainable standards. Your mom is right to be worried about you, as is Mr. Seo. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be frustrated with all of this at the same time. Thank you for letting me bear witness to the real Bang Chan, not just the perfect boxer. You’re far more to me than just a video subject.

It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, or probably assumed already- but perhaps the future of his career depends on this conversation, and it weighs just as heavy on you, too.

As the evening draws to a close, you’re relieved to hear that Mr. Seo confirms Chan has indeed shown up to his scheduled training session like he’d promised.

“He’s a little down tonight,” he details in a short text to you. “But he’ll be here after hours, if you care to swing by.”

And there’s nothing you would miss the opportunity for, you think to yourself, as you shoot him a quick text back and begin toward the training gym.

Your mind runs rampant with endless possibilities of how the conversation might play out. Perhaps he’ll be angry with you, and send you off with a curt wave of his hand. Maybe he’ll be just as emotional as he was with Mr. Seo, assuming the same disposition he did when he first cried to you that night in his apartment. Or maybe he’ll actually listen to what you have to say, the same way you lent a kindly ear to his vulnerable display of emotions.

It’s hard to say- he’s certainly not an easy read, the way you once presumed him to be.

The gym is void of its usual commotion- in fact, if not granted entry by Mr. Seo first, you’re not sure you would've assumed it to be occupied at all. The entrance is dark, as is the hallway, and you can just barely make out his silhouette when he approaches with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Mr. Seo remarks in a low voice. “He’s in the back.”

He looks exhausted, mentally and physically, and though he flaunts a sheen layer of sweat on his forehead from training, he wears it somberly, as though Chan’s emotions have now extended to him.

“How is he?” You inquire cautiously, and Mr. Seo shrugs in response.

“I couldn’t say. He’s hardly talking.”

Your heartbeat quickens suddenly at his words, at the thought that you’re trying to talk him out of something he’s already practically set on, even to his trainer’s standards. Realistically, there’s nothing you can say to change his mind- so does it even make sense to try? Is there a good reason to make an appearance, if at all?

“Y/n?” Mr. Seo questions, taking note of the way your gaze fixes beyond his standing figure at the darkened hallway, almost tuning out his presence.

“Yeah,” you say simply, giving him a small nod. “Thanks for letting me in. I really appreciate it.”

He just nods in response, standing aside to grant you full access. And then he’s off without another word, the low hum of his engine starting up in the parking lot.

The gym has never felt more uninviting than in the current chilling atmosphere, as you stride down the hallway and glance around nervously. The gallery wall of boxers is almost indistinguishable amidst the darkness, except for the beaming white smiles of their prideful expressions staring you down. You’re quickly overtaken by discomfort, as your eyes scan the dark gray walls, at the neat rows of boxers that mimic each other with their wide grins. The winners are hard to tell from the losers, and the losers might as well resemble just any normal spectator. Even the greats are unrecognizable to you, despite your proximity to their elegant portraits. And as hard as you squint at the array of frames above you, Baik Hyun-Man could be any of the boxers on this dreary wall.

It’s not until a loud thump echoes in the distance, that you’re brought back to reality, snapping your head in the direction of the boxing ring. It’s dark, like the rest of the gym, with the exception of the dimly-lit recess lights over the punching bag.

And stood in front of it, knees bent, fists positioned to deliver an uppercut, his jaw clenched and heavy bags under his eyes, Bang Chan.

He produces another hard punch to the bag as you take a reluctant step toward him, and then he hits two more times, the contact echoing around the room in tandem with your strides.

Thump. Step. Thump. Two more steps.

When you’re finally behind the ring, your knees grazing the raised platform, you hoist yourself over the edge, finding your balance to resume approaching him. And Chan’s punches finally come to a halt, his chin tucking over his shoulder as he attempts to catch a glimpse of you without turning around fully.

“Hi,” you say simply, halting your actions of nearing him.

Chan remains like that for a passing moment, scanning your standing figure out of his peripheral vision, before turning back toward the bag. He doesn’t deliver another punch, nor does he make any efforts to distance himself from you. He simply exhales deeply, before speaking.

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t have answers for you right now.”

“I’m not interviewing.”

It’s only then that he pivots cautiously on his heels, facing you now, a resigned expression on his face. He’s damp with sweat, glistening under the recess lighting, his thin white tank top practically glued to the convexes of his torso with perspiration.

“Then what do you want?”

“I told you,” you say to him, taking a single step toward him now. “I want to talk.”

His gaze flickers to your hands, which toy nervously with loose threads under the sleeves of your shirt. His lips part to say something, and then he scoffs lightly, before speaking once more.

“What, no camera this time around?”

Your heartbeat quickens at his words, feeling a suffocating sense of guilt as you realize he’s still upset with how the series unfolded in its last broadcast.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say to him, dropping your hands at your sides in defeat. “I understand you’re angry. I would be, too.”

Chan is quiet for a moment, eyes narrowed as though he’s challenging you.

“I promise I asked them to omit the footage,” you assure him nervously. “It got into the wrong hands.”

And then you take a sharp breath, before continuing.

“I became obsessed,” you say to him. “With the film. With you. I just wanted to know you better. And when I found that you weren’t this superficial shell of a person like I assumed you were, I couldn’t stop myself from feeding into their asks for this voyeuristic glance at your life.”

Chan’s expression seems to soften as he registers your apology. A part of him knows you’re right- and just like Mr. Seo had conveyed, he doesn’t resent you. Because a part of him is a little relieved he got it out there, for the whole world to comprehend just how scared he is of losing. And in turn, how to go about coping with it.

“Well it doesn’t matter anymore,” Chan remarks, his head hanging a little as he toys with the bandages around his wrists. “Because I quit.”

You can feel the room spin around you as his words pierce through your chest- you’d assumed that an apology would perhaps change his mind about the brash decision. Maybe Mr. Seo was wrong about him, and he is still keen on carrying through with a lifelong dream. But as he stands here before you, his gaze locked on his wrists and his shoulders sagging with shame, you know Mr. Seo had the correct read on him, after all.

“You can’t quit,” you utter reluctantly. “You can’t give up your life’s work because you’re afraid of losing.”

“And be made to look like a complete idiot? Yeah, great idea. I’ll be the first boxer to lose a winning streak to a title fight in over 20 years. That makes me a loser in every sense of the word.”

“This fight isn’t about winning it,” you counter. “It’s about showing up. You think your role models won anything by forfeiting?”

“You don’t get it,” He retorts, a frustrated scoff leaving his lips. “You never will. You’re just here to write some story for your own benefit.”

He seems to regret the words when they escape his lips, evident by the way he meets your gaze and toys with the hem of his shirt awkwardly. And he begins to apologize, but not before you’re interrupting him again.

“Write a story?” You repeat with a scoff, taking a single step toward him and narrowing your eyes. “You think I’m just here to write a story? Is that what you think this is?”

“I could never even begin to explain it to you,” Chan says finally, lowering his head in defeat. “Just… forget it.”

The words pierce through your miraculously still-beating heart, and you can almost feel your blood boil when you see him pivot away from you to make his departure.

Your eyes force themselves away from him, far too agitated with the sight of him to even warrant a brief glance in his direction. And as you stare past him at the gray gallery wall, your gaze meets the familiar sight of the monochromatic photograph, the subject beaming down at you while you search for a final word.

“You know what?” You voice to him, sounding much calmer now as you find the confidence to speak. “You are a loser.”

“What?” He questions, halting his steps to turn his head in your direction.

“I called you a loser,” you emphasize, observing the way he turns to face you now. “Any respectable boxer would know that I’ve always been here to tell your story, not conjure up some sensationalized version of it. Forgive me for caring so much about all of this. About you.”

Chan remains quiet, interest piqued at the way you manage to reach a stalemate with your carefully chosen words. And then he plants two feet on the floor, toying with the straps of the boxing bandages around his knuckles, as he turns away from you and begins toward the back of the gym.

“I’m talking to you,” you practically shout, following in his footsteps and pulling yourself through the gap off the raised platform. You stumble as your feet plant themselves onto the floor, and then you walk briskly behind him, eyebrows furrowed crossly as frustrated tears brim your eyes.

“Sure, just walk away from all of this,” you shout at him, growing increasingly irate at the way he struts down the hallways in front of you, not even switching on the lights as you trail behind him.

“And you know what? Your mom is right,” you voice at him loudly. “You are so fucking preoccupied at being the best at what you do, and that’s exactly what brings you down. It’s like pulling teeth trying to talk to you. I’ve seen it in all you pretentious athletes before, but you’re by far the worst.”

Chan turns a corner, still silent at your remarks as he makes his way into a narrow tiled hallway and into the gym showers. The thought crosses your mind to leave, knowing that you have no business following your video subject into the men’s showers. And yet you don’t, maintaining your stance confidently as you watch him toy with the faucet handle on the wall.

“You don’t even realize the way being so cold affects the people around you. The way they so clearly worry about you- and all you can do is dismiss them, and lie to their fucking faces. Everybody’s walking on eggshells around you.”

Chan pushes the steel lever to the right, and you take a step back when the shower head begins to run with a steady stream of water, cascading over his lean figure as he remains standing. You stutter to speak as you watch Chan pull the black t-shirt he wears over his head, discarding it onto the now wet tiled floor and running two hands through his dampened hair.

And your eyes make every effort to refrain from staring too hard at the toned body he reveals to you- dripping in beads of sweat and water alike, trickling down the muscular contours of his chiseled abs and finding purchase along the elastic waistband of his shorts.

The etched convexes of his pectorals flex with subtle movements as his head hangs, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he pulls on the tightly-bound bandages around his knuckles- to no avail, the water drenching them as he continues to tug on them frustratedly.

“I hope you know that the silent treatment won’t do anything for you,” you admonish, approaching him with a single step.

You recall his strong aversion to getting his bandages wet, so instinctively your hands find his, pinching the nylon fabric between your fingers and beginning to undo the bandages around his bruised fingers as his gaze fixes onto yours.

He says nothing, the damp ends of his hair dribbling warm droplets of water onto your shirt as he towers over you, the running shower drowning out the sounds of his heavy breathing as he admires you at this proximity to him.

Your ears are flushed a deep shade of red, still riddled with clear frustration as you rant to him about all his shortcomings- and yet he can’t shake the endearing fact that you’re still helping him, despite the callous words you throw at him.

“Asshole,” he hears you utter, amongst his own deafening thoughts of you. “You can go your whole life running away from all of this whenever you feel the slightest bit threatened, and you might be fooling everybody else, but not me. I know boxing hasn’t inhibited you to be this shell of a human. Good luck with everything,” you snap, pulling the last of the bandage off from around his hands.

“But I hope you know that not even a trophy could refute the fact that you’re a fucking loser.”

Chan lets a breathy chuckle escape his lips, eyes flickering over your pursed lips when you finally crane your neck to look up at him. He’s properly drenched now, strands of hair falling into his face as his expression grows serious.

Neither of you say anything, heavy breaths escaping your parted lips and swirling into each other as he waits for you to make your departure. And yet you don’t, your chest rising and falling with labored breaths as you observe the way his eyelashes glisten under the cascading water. You watch the way the water collects along his philtrum, fusing into one reflective sphere along his top lip and dangling as he searches for the words to say- and he can’t find them, simply shutting his eyes as the water streams over his eyelids, practically forcing them shut.

He waits for the sound of your departing footsteps, or maybe for the shower to shut off if you’re even the slightest bit keen on talking things out.

And yet his body relaxes down into yours when he feels you heighten your still-standing figure, shifting your weight onto the tips of your toes so that you can brush strands of wet hair out of his face.

He shivers in your touch, exhaling a breath he hasn’t realized he’s been holding in this whole time. And then he works against you with ease when you finally press your lips to his, allowing the water to transfer from his open mouth to yours, the salty flavor of his sweat still present on your tongue.

Chan doesn’t say anything when you pull away once more, mentally preparing himself for you to scold him, slap him, something to confirm that you loathe him the way he believes you now do. But it’s the last thing he expects when you cup his face between your hands again, pulling him down toward you and allowing his troubled expression to meet your gaze.

You think to kiss him again, your eyes flickering briefly over his- but you don’t, simply giving him a short nod when you finish speaking.

It’s Chan who opts to kiss you again, with more intensity the second time around, his hands finding the small of your back when he pulls you in against him and allows his lips to work against yours. Your hands press to his toned stomach, grazing fingertips along his flesh as he pulls you a little closer, and you make no effort to push him away or halt your forbidden actions,

Your head is in a daze- somewhere between seething and perhaps also roused as a result of it, knowing very well that this is possibly the worst way you could handle the situation.

He’s stubborn and dejected, and though he knows that being vulnerable is the only way to come to terms with what boxing has become for him, he only seeks resolution by opting to put a lifetime of work behind him. And it’s driving you mad, to practically beg him to let you in like this- yet it feels like the only way to shut yourself up from negotiating with the shell of the man he’s become is to remain exactly like this, your lips on his, hands all over each other, letting gasped breaths escape your lips as he works his kisses along your jawline.

“I missed you,” Chan confesses with a groan as he tilts your face further up between the gentle hold of his thumb and index finger.

You say nothing back, shutting your eyes as you allow his lips to travel down the column of your neck, his hands lowering to find yours and take your wrists in his grasp. He resumes desperate little kisses down your neck, walking you back along the tiled flooring, until your body is effectively slotted between Chan and the wall below the shower head. And when he pulls back momentarily to let his thumbs caress the curves of your hips, the water cascades over you, too, engulfing you in a steady stream of water and wetting the clothes you still wear. Chan watches, mesmerized, as the white fabric of your blouse clings around your body like cellophane, outlining every convex along your flesh, your hair dripping with beads of water and hanging loosely into your face as you look up at him.

“What are you thinking about?” He inquires softly, tucking a strand of hair out of your face.

You pause for a moment, your eyes locked on the droplets of water that trickle down the tiled wall across from you. He scans your expression as he awaits an answer, using his index finger to tilt your face toward him again. The shower seems to drown out in white noise for a moment, Chan’s gaze flickering over your trembling eyes as he waits. Your mind goes back to the feeling of being in that boxing ring- far too big, and yet claustrophobic, at the same time, especially at the thought of hundreds of eyes on you. You think of your camera, and the sight of the little red light blinking to indicate it was recording him, and how it remained angled at him for hours at a time most days, capturing every little movement he produced. You think of the newspaper publications, the faces of the viewers who recognize him in public, even the worried expressions of the people closest to him as he bites back from indulging them in the truth about all of this.

And then you swallow, confidently straightening your posture, as you finally provide an answer.

“I think about you a suffocating amount.”

He cocks his head, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek, visibly satisfied with your response.

“Yeah?” He questions. “Missed me that much?”

You let out a small gasp when he lowers his lips to your chest, and then he places a single, open-mouthed kiss on the curve of your breast, his pupils flickering to hold eye contact as he does.

“Maybe,” you breathe back to him, feeling your throat still bubble with vexation. “Of course maybe I was just looking forward to watching your fight.”

He places another kiss, and then another, and then several more, traveling inward until he’s just between the valley of your breasts. And then he lifts his head up again, grazing over your parted lips, but not yet kissing you.

“I’m afraid of what will happen,” he says in almost a whisper, toying with the damp hem of your blouse.

And Chan smiles between the tender kiss when you pull him back down and indulge him anyway, allowing the indignation you feel at the hands of him to be replaced by the pulsing sensation between your legs, shutting up your thoughts with the erotic sight of him shirtless, hands all over your wet body as you melt into his touch.

“Then do it afraid,” you tell him.

You breathe between heavy kisses as his hands snake down to your blouse, rolling buttons between the pads of his fingers to undo them. He hums into the kiss when you do, letting your hands tangle in his hair as the final button is undone, your blouse hanging open loosely and exposing your chest to the cold water that continues to streamline over your desperate bodies.

You can feel Chan smirk into the kiss, entirely too satisfied with the method you’ve both chosen to adjourn this prolonged chapter of tension that seems to exist every time he’s near- of words unspoken, knowing looks and stories that barely scrape the surface of who he really is. And though you’re still peeved at his reluctance, it feels right to be all over him like this- perhaps this is the closest you’ll ever get to him, when he’s looming over you with every desire to undress you and know the curves of your body as intimately as you long to know his mind.

The thoughts agitate you the more you ruminate on them, and yet every annoyance is shut up by the sensation of his mouth working against yours, hands snaking down to the small of your back again where he sprawls his fingertips out over the goosebumps raised along your skin.

Of course Chan will never admit that perhaps this is the closest he’s ever gotten to letting somebody into the innermost complexities of his mind- but still, he’s well aware that the desire to let you in is heightened by the reality that he wants you to know him fully.

“Is this okay?” he breathes again, as his fingers graze a little lower, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

The audible groan you emit practically relays an answer to him already, yet he smiles devilishly in response to your clear frustration, your hand tracing eagerly along the waistband of his shorts. You don’t have to advance any lower to know that he’s definitely hard for you- it’s clear in the way he whimpers at the near-contact, his breathing growing ragged when you hum softly into his mouth and tug at his hair a little.

“Answer me,” Chan commands, his hands finding their way to your pants and toying similarly along your waist. Your hand rests atop his, guiding him to pull them lower as if granting him permission, and then he wastes no time discarding them entirely, tugging the soaked fabric that clings to your thighs harshly down your body and allowing them to pool around your ankles.

“Yes, it’s okay,” you gasp, moaning softly when his lips reattach to your neck.

Your lingerie is already soiled, clinging tightly against the outline of your body, and Chan’s clothes now clearly outline his fully-erect cock, strained against the thin fabric of his shorts and desperate for some release.

The shower temperature seems to have risen several degrees with the passing time, cascading over you with almost scalding water as you feel Chan’s hands lower to take yours in his. He caresses your wrists as he pulls away from your lips momentarily, and then he spins you around to press you gently against the wall, his lips finding purchase in the shell of your ear as he prods into your lower thigh from behind. He feels big against you, his whole body indicating his clear desire to take you right here, in the hardly-private environment of the gym showers, and you shiver when you feel him work kisses down the column of your neck once more, now latching your flesh between his teeth to suck a line of bruises where his lips trail.

The reality crosses your mind again, briefly, that you’re definitely not supposed to be getting physically intimate with an interview subject for a second time now. But when his hands trail down to trace behind the strap of your bra, tugging on the fabric until his nimble fingers are working over the clasp, you don’t dare utter a single word of protest at him.

Unlike the way he retracts from opening himself up to you, his movements now are purposeful. He knows what he wants in the way he so skillfully undoes the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor in a puddle of water as his hands now find the mounds of your breasts. And he has clear intentions when he then slips his hands into the sides of your panties and tugs harshly, letting those pool around your ankles too, now, his hands massaging the curves of your ass as you arch instinctively and wait for him to continue.

“Will you let me return the favor now?” Chan asks boldly when his hands travel back to his own shorts. He touches himself over the fabric of his shorts, cupping a hand around his own hard girth to then stroke himself with just enough pressure to coax a heavy exhale from the back of his throat. And when you nod beneath his touch, swallowing the shower water that dribbles from between your lips to rest upon your tongue, his fingers find your face, tilting just enough to meet your gaze with his.

“I didn’t hear you,” Chan states, not yet undressing himself. “Say it.”

“Yes,” you breathe back, hoping the impatience in your voice isn’t picked up so easily in your tone. You’d beg him to fuck you if you weren’t already begging him to let down his stubborn walls.

He smirks at your near-desperation, and then his hands resume the action of gliding upon the grooves on the elastic waistband of his shorts- only this time, he tugs them down in tandem with his boxers, allowing his exposed erection to grow against his abdomen as his clothes fall to the tile beneath him. His hand wraps itself around the base of his cock, positioning himself behind you and pumping himself a few times. And then before he makes any move to enter you, his hand slots itself between your legs, resting along your upper thigh as he presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder.

“I still think you’re a loser,” You say to Chan, for the second time now, gasping when you feel his fingers graze your clit and rub in circular motions. “If you walk away from all of this.”

“Yeah?” he says with a breathy chuckle, pressing a series of open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder. “Is this your way of saying you care about me?”

“Hardly,” you breathe back, eyebrows arching in pleasure when he quickens the pace of his movements.

“I see the way you look at me,” Chan whispers against the shell of your ear. “Either you’re really passionate about this story,” his fingers prod against your entrance, gathering the slick of your arousal onto the pads of his fingers before dipping them into your cunt and smiling when you gasp in response. “Or you’re just as drawn to me as I am to you.”

“Am I right?” He says when you arch back against him, gasping as he moves his fingers in, and then out, swirling them around your clit and back inside of you once more. “Tell me,” he continues. “Do you always get this wet for the people you interview?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you breathe back, your chest rising and falling with every labored breath as he resumes his thrusting motions in a rhythmic pattern. “You’re the one who drags me everywhere with you like I’m your fucking assistant.”

“You could’ve declined,” Chan says plainly, his tongue finding your neck and tracing along your throat in one long stripe, before latching his teeth around the flesh as he had previously. “I think you just like me.”

You begin to respond, quickly unable to as he thrusts his fingers at a particularly fast pace now, your words coming out as a series of high-pitched moans, instead. You silently pray he can’t tell you’re enjoying this entirely too much.

He pulls his fingers out again, and you spread your thighs a little to grant him access to your clit once more, yet he doesn’t indulge you, simply letting his hand find your waist again and caressing your damp skin.

“Why’d you stop?” You say a little too abruptly, earning a chuckle from him as his hand wraps around the base of his cock.

“Someone’s eager,” Chan remarks, and you mentally scold yourself for audibly sounding it.

“Just hurry up, will you?”

His hand caresses the vein that runs along his shaft, thumb toying with his pink tip as he hums in response to your anticipation. And then he pauses again, before tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

You watch as Chan’s neck cranes up, too, his adam’s apple bobbing outwardly as he faces up at the shower head that continues to shoot a steady stream of water over your tangled bodies. He shuts his eyes momentarily, allowing the water to cascade in two streams down his cheeks now as it makes contact over his pronounced nose bridge. And then you watch his plump lips part above you, the flow of water merging into one steady stream once more as he lets it fill his mouth, his chin almost trembling as he struggles to take it all in one mouthful, quickly spilling over and dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t swallow the mouthful, he doesn’t dispose of it as he turns to meet your gaze again. Instead, he angles your face toward him with the gentle maneuver of his thumb on your chin, his lips pulling as much as they can into a cocky grin as he cups your face and allows your mouth to remain agape for him.

No words are exchanged as he partakes in the lewd action of allowing the water to dribble down into your mouth, strings of saliva accompanying the salty taste of his sweat and the metallic taste of gym shower water. He allows his mouth to fully empty into yours, guiding strings of saliva back between your parted lips when your respective mouthful begins to spill over, too. And then as the caress of his thumb along your chin instructs you non-verbally to swallow it, to let the concoction dribble down to the back of your throat and glide with ease past your trembling lips, he’s guiding himself inside of you at the same time, his hands spreading your thighs as he guides his cock into your entrance and holds it there for a still moment.

You want to verbally remark how big he feels inside of you, but you can’t speak just yet as you swallow the remainder of his saliva, gasping for a breath when he pulls back to then thrust into you with a little more force. And then his hand reaches around to your clit once more, the pads of his fingers working you in circles again as he begins to move with rhythmic motions.

“Are you okay?” Chan asks in a gentle voice, as he gathers your hair with his vacant hand, draping it over your shoulder to press a chaste kiss against your neck.

You nod quickly in response, far too overcome by the sheer pleasure of his flesh working in and out of your glistening walls to give him a proper answer, and he takes the heavy panting that escapes your lips as answer enough.

“God you feel so fucking good,” Chan remarks, as he gives your hair a little tug. “I’ve been thinking about this. About you.”

He lets his eyes shut in a blissful state of euphoria as he fucks you, satisfied groans escaping his lips as his fingers grasp at your flesh eagerly, careful not to loosen his hold on you as though he might lose you.

And then before he can ponder the implications of his breathless speech, he’s breaking the silence again, regret overtaking his dizzied state the moment he speaks again.

“What are you thinking about?”

The words are near insensitive as it now stands, and Chan knows very well that he’s going to be met with some version of dispute from your breathless figure. But you surprise him for the second time this evening, when you don’t argue against his callous actions, instead letting your lips part in pleasure as you breathe out a response.

“You,” the simple answer conveys. And Chan can feel his cock twitch inside of you at the admission, another groan escaping his parted lips as he feels himself grow twice as roused at the fact that he consumes your thoughts just as much as you do his.

Between the rhythmic sounds of his groans that precede your gasps for air, muffled by the steady stream of the shower that nearly drowns out your voices the same way the pleasure nearly drowns out your thoughts, you feel his hand reach around to grasp your fingers between his. He gives it a gentle squeeze as he angles your parted legs toward the shower stream, letting the water cascade in a pulsing vibration directly on your clit. And the dizzying sensation of your joint frustration and pleasure only reminds you that the thoughts are not limited to just him.

Thinking about Bang Chan extends far beyond just the charming public figure he now is- they exist in a capacity much larger than a longing to know him for the purposes of any stupid docuseries. The thoughts of him transcend the superficial established connection of a subject behind a camera lens- instead, you long to know the very intricacies of his consciousness, to pick his mind and comprehend his real fears, his hangups, his shortcomings and his plan for a life beyond this one. It’s a longing to know him beyond just his tales of guts and glory, and this life he’s so scrupulously centered around his boxing career.

He’s purposeful- in his strategy and his movements, and you’re quickly brought back to the gym locker showers when you feel him spread your lips a little wider toward the shower stream, earning a fervent moan from you as you feel his cock twitch again inside of you.

“Fuck,” Chan exhales, through gritted teeth, as he staves off his orgasm momentarily.

He observes the way your eyebrows arch in sheer pleasure, all fucked-out as you take him so obediently and allow the shower to pleasure you where he can’t. And then he angles your face toward him as he indulges you in one final sloppy kiss against your parted lips, the lewd remnants of sweat and spit and water still exchanging from his body onto yours.

“I’m sorry,” is all Chan can breathe against your lips, as he assists you in reaching your finish, giving your hand an affirming squeeze as your legs tremble in his touch, your walls contracting around his cock, as the shower water that cascades onto the floor is now mixed with your juices and and the echoing sounds of your high-pitched moans. And Chan nibbles on the lobe of your ear, confessing a string of apologies as he reaches his finish now, too, filling your still-aching body with his load and not loosening his grasp around your fingers.

Before pulling out, his trembling hand finds the steel handle of the shower, which he pushes into an ‘off’ position once more, before relaxing his figure against yours, hands finding purchase on your hips as you both catch your breath.

The tiled room grows much quieter now as heavy breaths escape both of your parted lips, chests rising and falling against each other as his chin rests on your shoulder.

The stream of the shower has now reduced to the repetitive tap of dripping water along the floor, echoing in the near-silence of the steamy room as you remain pressed against each other, bodies languid and far too drained of your frustrations to speak.

And yet amidst the eerie silence of the room, Chan speaks in a voice above a whisper, his fingertips intertwining with each other as he tightens his grasp around your frame.

“I’ll do it,” he says breathlessly, taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his lips for a tender kiss to your knuckles.

“Do what?” You challenge, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair out from his eyes.

He chuckles softly, cocking his head as you await a response.

“Say it,” you reiterate, and he rolls his eyes playfully before answering.

“I’ll do the fight,” Chan says finally, his shoulders seeming to relax when he comes down to rest his forehead against yours. “I’ll show up, and I’ll do this match.”

His head hangs as his figure towers over yours, fingers giving yours a little squeeze before he finishes speaking.

“And we can finish telling this story together.”

And the gentle gargle of the shower drain succeeds his words, disposing a mix of sweat and water and arousal alike.

*

GOLDEN GLOVES CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE FIGHT- BANG CHAN VS. KANG-DAE

It’s not unusual for boxers to flaunt a long list of rituals on fight days. Some have particular food specifications the night before, others ensure a strict routine of stretches. You distinctly recall a few playlists shared by previous athletes you’ve interviewed, and even lucky articles of clothing for others.

For Bang Chan, sherbet popsicles are a considerable factor in his pre-boxing rituals. And yet for the first time in his career, they’re unavailable to him.

“You tried the convenience stores on the south side?” He asks again, pacing back and forth as Mr. Seo slings his belongings into a gray storage locker.

“All sold out,” Mr. Seo explains. “There’s a few similar ones in the freezer at the back. Not sure if you wanna give those a try.”

Bang Chan thinks it over momentarily, electing not to respond as frustratedly as he wants to. And then he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gym shorts, hanging his head in defeat.

All around him, the hallways of the stadium are teeming with movement- from security in black jumpsuits traversing the rooms, sports commentators readying their equipment, makeup artists organizing their respective supplies. Even Mr. Seo seems to be heads-down in his own tasks, hardly uttering words of consolidation as he makes his way over to another staff member.

And all Chan can do is simply wait, in the green room, for further direction, as he tries his best not to get in the way. Mr. Seo had once described this part of the process as a “hurry up and wait” sort of phenomenon- something Chan never fully understood until he was participating in some of his biggest fights to date. The makeup artists will usher him to a swivel chair, where they’ll begin with a base of primer on his face, and then they’re gone again, disappearing to retrieve more supplies from beyond the green room. Staff members will begin to explain the timeline of this evening’s events, and then they’re quickly caught up in an entirely different conversation, not even completing their sentences before they’re a whole room away from him.

Even Mr. Seo will begin a pep talk, reminding Chan to “loosen up”, and that “whatever happens, happens”- and then he’s absent once again, too, quickly reminded of something he’s forgotten back at his designated locker.

So all Chan can do is wait, his eyes scanning rows of photographs that line the unfamiliar walls of this foreign stadium.

He’s entirely riddled with fear, the way he always is before a fight. Yet his thoughts are also plagued with you, and you, and more of you, as he recalls the way all of his previous evenings alongside you had unfolded.

Perhaps all of the desperate kisses you’d exchanged, and the now several times you allowed him to return the favor, served as pre-ritual enough for Chan, who practically bites back a smile when he remembers the way your delicate fingers weaved between his, reassuring him for one final time that he’s not a loser for showing up.

All of your sagely words circle his mind as though he’s indulging himself once more in the sacred moment of a boy and his favorite sherbet popsicle- apologetic confessions that he’d become an object of fascination for you. A myriad of shaky words detailing a sheer gratitude for allowing you to know him this intimately, the way he’s been withholding from the people closest to him. And although his truths had been publicly broadcast, a newfound appreciation for this level of vulnerability.

And he’s quickly brought back to reality when Mr. Seo makes his entrance again, folded blue satin grasped tightly in his hold.

“Robe’s here,” Mr. Seo explains, as he nears Chan’s seated figure. Chan cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of the familiar article of clothing- blue, upon his mother's particular liking to his first pair of sparring mitts.

The whole room seems to halt their actions and stare when Chan finally rises from his seat, pulling his ribbed white tank top off over his torso with the swift motion of a hand. And beneath the bright lights of the green room, a series of camera flashes illuminates the space around him, as they capture the first moments he’s finally undressed.

“Arms out,” Mr. Seo commands.

He assists in pulling the robe over Chan’s broad shoulders, smoothing down the silken fabric as Chan adjusts the collar.

Another staff member unbeknownst to Chan gestures for his hands, where she begins to wrap nylon around his knuckles. One more readies his boxing gloves, pulling open the velcro from around the closure strap.

Makeup artists begin to circle him again, brushing powder along his nose and instructing him to pout his lips for chapstick.

As they prepare him for the biggest title fight of his career, Chan can still only think of you.

He knows you’re prohibited from interacting prior to the fight- rules which you mutually opted to establish, knowing it would be entirely too difficult to conceal your emotions in the presence of each other. But the fact stands, that he misses you, and that in the absence of his typical pre-fight ritual, you’re the only other means of instilling a sense of calmness within him.

“Kang-Dae’s already here,” Mr. Seo then says, as he fastens the strings of Chan’s robe.

“He’s here?” Chan echoes, eyes widening as the realization sets in.

He pictures the green room opposite to his in the stadium; it’s probably just as busy, with staff members working to prepare Kang-Dae for what will also be the biggest fight of his career. Chan realizes for the first time that he’ll be face to face with the same figure he’s spoken so highly of, the same person he’s made strategic efforts not to run into, and the same person he’ll now be facing in the ring- not just a practice match against Mr. Seo, or even a punching bag.

“He arrived not long ago,” Mr. Seo explains. “We have 15 minutes until entrance.”

Chan rotates his hands, at the staff’s request, as they fasten the black sparring mitts around his fists. And then his gaze falls to the mirror across from him as another stripe of powder is brushed along his nose.

His eyes scan his own standing figure for a moment- he looks taller than usual, and stronger, his shoulders pulling back as the blue satin robe hangs loosely around his toned body. His hair is smoothed back again with a gel comb, his shoes knotted three times at the laces.

And then his gaze falls to the standing figure behind him, as you make entrance into the green room at last, a colleague by your side and a team of cameras filing in after you.

“… you can begin setting up in ten,” a staff member directs them, gesturing to the hallway beyond them.

You do your best to register the instructions, nodding your head as they speak right past you, yet completely unable to do so, as Chan’s lips pull into a closed-lip smile.

He can say nothing at the sight of you, simply admiring the elegant black double-breasted dress you sport, your hair pulled back to flaunt a sophisticated makeup look. And your eyes remain locked with his for a passing moment, as you examine his appearance in all its glory- the way the blue satin robe falls loosely around his chiseled abs, the glow of his makeup under the bright lightning, even the new sight of his gelled hair, pushed out of his face to reveal his handsome features to you.

He hardly looks familiar to you this way- much less like the Chan you know at the proximity of his lips on yours, and more like renowned boxer Bang Chan, the way the rest of the world refers to him.

Mr. Seo seems to take notice of Chan’s eyes on yours, his gaze flickering over Chan’s intense stare in the mirror and then around to you, who scrambles to face your camera crew once more. He smooths down the collar of Chan’s robe one last time, giving him a pat on the shoulders, and then he calls out to the nearby staff in a moment of understanding.

“Let’s give Bang Chan a moment,” he says, gesturing to the hallway with a cock of his head. “We’ll make entrance in ten.”

The makeup crew packs the last of their belongings, shuffling out with briefcases of pallets and brushes. Security assume their positions just past the door in the hallway, shutting the heavy steel door behind them, and Mr. Seo leads the rest of the crew out, shooting Chan a small wink as he observes you maintain a safe distance from Chan.

When the green room is finally cleared, the steel door shutting fully with an echoing thud, Chan pivots to face you, leaning back on the vanity, his hands shoved into the pockets of his robe.

“Hi,” he muses curiously.

You take several steps toward him, arms crossed at the elbows, and then you halt in front of him, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“You look cool,” you tell him, the corners of your lips pulling up into a smile. “Like a winner.”

He chuckles softly, standing up straight now, his broad figure towering over you as he maintains an amused smile. He begins to close the gap between your smiling figures, but you reach a hand out to stop him, sprawling your fingers out across his stomach and pushing him away lightly.

“You can’t kiss me,” you say to him. “It’s bad luck.”

“Oh really?” Chan questions. “Says who?”

“Says me,” you voice back, chuckling softly in response. “You just got your makeup done. And I don’t want to run the risk of being seen by somebody.”

“There’s nobody around,” he emphasizes, taking your hands in his. “Besides, the makeup’s going to get ruined enough as it is.”

“Still,” you say to him, reaching up to run a finger along his gelled hair. He searches for the words to refute your argument again, but instead he’s silent, cocking his head to observe your expression.

“If I can’t kiss you,” he begins. “I think it’s only fair that you indulge me in a story. For good luck.”

You smile up at him, thinking it over a second. He rubs his fingers over yours tenderly as he awaits a response, and then his expression grows serious again when you begin to produce one.

“In 1988, Baik Hyun-Man was the first heavyweight boxer of his kind to make it to the Olympics. He trained for an incredible amount of time, and he swept in his division that same year.”

Chan nods as you speak, recounting the tale in his own mind.

“Two years later, he retired. And the world didn’t know what to make of him. In his final speech to the world, he detailed his reasoning- that maybe through tales of his, of guts and glory,”

“… we find our footing in the knowledge that we tried,” Chan finishes.

He says nothing as your lips pull into a smile, mirroring his.

And then he gives you an understanding nod, as a knock is heard on the steel door, indicating time for his entrance.

*

The arena is almost deafening with heavy anticipation when you finally make your entrance, assuming a reserved spot at the front, amidst the rows of occupied seats. Spectators sport face paint and signs, balancing buckets of popcorn in their elbows and chugging gargantuan cups of soft drinks and alcohol. The chatter of sports commentators can already be heard overhead as they detail the sight to viewers at home. And as you glance around the arena, you can’t help but worry for Chan, who you know already feels suffocated enough in the confines of the practice gym.

The same emotions you harbor when staring out at the gym are elevated- perhaps tenfold, as you lose sight of the rows in the shadows beyond the bright white recess lighting. Your cameras are set up alongside you by the crew, who assemble the tripods and angle the lens toward the ring.

And you watch nervously, waiting for sight of Chan’s entrance. Your eyes scan the sea of people, who talk excitedly amongst themselves, and then back to the boxing ring, which seems to glow under the blinding white lights- and then your attention is drawn back to the seat beside you, as a figure shuffles past toward you.

“Mrs. Bang!” You exclaim, bowing graciously as she mirrors your action.

“So good to see you again!” she states, a warm smile on her face. “We’re sitting just that way.”

She points to the right of your spot, and beyond rows of fans, you can clearly locate what appears to be the rest of Chan’s family, who greet you with smiles and excited waves.

“Wow, there’s so many of you,” you say back to her, chuckling lightly as you wave them down.

“We’ve never missed a match,” she explains. “He always knows where to find us.”

The statement is comforting to you, as you recall how nervous Chan is to have hundreds of eyes on him at any given moment- at least among a sea of spectators, he can always still count on a few familiar faces rooting for him.

“Listen,” she begins to say. “I wanted to thank you for this whole film. We had a long conversation about it, following the second part of his series. I always knew it was taxing for him- I guess I just hadn’t realized how scared he was of all this.”

She lowers her voice to just above a whisper, glancing nervously at her side, before continuing to speak.

“It was eye-opening for all of us, to view it from a different perspective. We all want him to win- just not at the cost of his well being.”

You’re quick to shake your head, shooting her an understanding smile.

“I wanted to apologize to you- I didn’t know they were going to air a lot of it,” you tell her. “I didn’t mean for his secrets to be so… televised.”

“Don’t apologize,” Mrs. Bang reassures you. “It’s the kind of honesty nobody’s been able to coax out of him before. Sure, it reached a lot of people. But it was bound to, considering how long he’s kept all of this from us. Sometimes when we’re most vulnerable, it’s the only time we’re able to truly understand what we want.”

You ponder her words momentarily, not yet separating from her gaze, as her lips pull into a small smile. You see a lot of Chan in her- restless when she’s distressed, and yet a robust willingness to decipher a meaning from all of the pain. She’s enchanting the same way Chan is- it’s no wonder he holds his family so close to his heart.

“Thank you,” is all you can utter in reply, as she reaches out a hand to give your forearm a squeeze.

“Whatever happens tonight,” she voices. “I’m glad we got to tell this story. I think you’ve done a fine job at knowing him.”

You return her words with a smile of your own, your eyes darting back to the ring, where staff members circle about and make their final preparations.

“It’s not over yet,” you remind her. “We’re still telling it.”

And she shoots you a knowing wink, as she bows graciously and begins back toward her designated seating.

*

When the spotlight illuminates over the west wing of the arena, the rest of the venue goes dark, crescendoed chatter making itself known all around you as fans eagerly await the entrance of both athletes.

“… tonight’s biggest match of the year here at the Golden Gloves Championship,” you can hear a commentator announce from the platform far above you.

“Bang Chan vs. Kang-Dae, a battle of undefeated superstars, scheduled for 12 rounds of boxing. Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you our participants in tonight’s main show.”

All eyes seem to shift nervously over the west wing, squinting amidst the contrast lighting to make out whose entrance will precede the next. And when the commentator begins to speak again, your heart practically drops in your chest, when you observe the first.

“Introducing to you first, on my right, fighting out of the red corner, wearing red mitts,” he begins. “A campaign record of 23 wins, 19 coming by way of knockout. Please welcome the hard-hitting, former lightweight champ of the second division, boxer Kang-Dae.”

Your eyes fall to his looming figure on the left, observing the way he jogs in place, a bright red robe draped over his muscular build as he wears a cocky smile on his face.

He sports a shaved head, cracking his neck with a jerky movement of his neck, his buff build flexing beneath the overhead lights. If you’d previously assumed Chan to assume the appearance of an arrogant athlete, Kang-Dae’s definitely broken that record now, made even more clear in the way he raises his fists to the audience and circles the ring as they cheer for him.

“And on my left,” the commentator begins, your head snapping to the other side of the ring.

“Fighting out of the blue corner, wearing blue mitts, completely undefeated in his division on a rampant winning-streak. A total of 40 wins, 26 coming by way of knockout, we welcome the electrifying king of boxing and rising star to fame, champion boxer Bang Chan.”

The lights are illuminated over Chan’s standing figure now, and your heart skips several beats when you witness his powerful stance in all its glory, for the first time in a professional setting.

Chan adjusts the velcro around his wrists, pulling it taut between his teeth, craning his neck out at the audience, before raising a single fist and shooting the spectators a nervous, closed-lip smile.

The crowd is much louder this time around, the entire arena erupting in a sea of applause and cheers, as he rolls his shoulders back now, his gaze finally falling onto Kang-Dae’s.

You reckon you could cut the tension with a knife when they make visual contact, their eyes darting over each other’s statures and mentally relaying words of self-righteousness at one another. Although Bang Chan is visibly nervous, he looks angry, the same way he does when he’s throwing punches in the practice ring. As they approach each other at the center, your gaze is drawn back to the referee, who holds a hand out in front of each of their figures, beginning to voice a list of rules.

“Touch ‘em up,” he tells them, as you watch them raise their mitts to make contact just once, before retreating to their respective corners.

The noise is drowned out momentarily amidst your own thoughts, eyes scanning nervously over Chan’s figure, as you watch Mr. Seo fit a mouth guard over his teeth. He talks loudly over the deafening cheers as he relays some form of instruction to him, giving his shoulders an affirming tap and gesturing to Kang-Dae.

Your own gaze falls to your camera crew, who meticulously adjust the lenses to not miss a second of Chan’s movements, and you chew the inside of your lip nervously as you wait for him to assume his position. On the overhead screen, you crane your neck up to catch a glimpse of their names in flashy text, illustrating ROUND 1 alongside a headshot you’ve never seen of Bang Chan.

And then before your gaze falls over his figure once more, the double chime of a boxing bell fills the room loudly, indicating start time for the two.

It happens faster than you were prepared for, when Kang-Dae lunges forward to deliver a harsh hook, just barely missing Bang Chan as they begin to circle around each other.

Both sides of the arena are equally deafening, fans practically rising from their seats to cheer for either member. Chan’s movements to dodge Kang-Dae are swift, yet sharp, as his blue mitts conceal his serious expression, his tongue rolling once over the harsh blue color of his mouth guard.

“Approaching the midway point of a cautious start to the first round,” a commentator states. “There’s a jab, from Bang Chan in the blue. Who just barely misses Kang-Dae’s dodge- folks, do you see that footwork?”

The screen overhead now displays a timer- 45 seconds left of round one, and you turn to your own cameras when you take note, observing the way Lin fidgets with the pan arm.

“He’s being careful,” Lin comments. “We should start seeing more action by round 3.”

Your lips part to say something, but you simply turn back to the ring again, eyes darting briefly over the screen.

20 seconds, 19, 18…

“It’s neutral,” another commentator states. No one’s attempting to put the other out just yet.”

14, 13, 12…

“Listen for that bell, gentleman,” the referee announces.

“A landing jab, from Bang Chan on the right! And time, right there.”

As both boxers return to their places, you can see Mr. Seo approach Chan, who assumes a spot on a little stool in his corner, exhaling sharply before he’s quickly surrounded.

“Perfect start,” Mr. Seo tells him, pulling the mouth guard out from between his teeth. “He’s gonna start making some hard moves at you. We’re looking for counters, right? Just be relaxed, and be light on your feet.”

Bang Chan nods, as somebody to the right of him brings forward a sports water bottle and gestures for him to take a swig. When he pulls away once more, they reach out to wipe a drop from the corner of his mouth. Another figure behind him runs what appears to be a bag of ice over the back of his neck, giving him a quick massage, before retracting.

Chan doesn’t say anything for the duration- he simply nods, seemingly regulating his breathing and focusing on Mr. Seo’s advice.

And when the break is called to an end, both parties meet at the middle of the ring again, as the referee ushers for them to start round 2.

The boxing bell is just as jarring the second time around, a double chime echoing loudly throughout the arena. And this time, Chan doesn’t waste a second lunging at Kang-Dae first, his fist making robust contact with his opponent’s stocky build, a loud thump revertebrating from the hit.

Kang-Dae seems to duck as he does, his fists coiling around Chan’s waist, as he holds him tightly in his grip and shoves him forward, earning the attention of the referee, who holds out two hands to stop them both.

“Stop, stop,” he calls out. “Not another until I say go,” he explains. And the two shoot furious looks at each other, before the referee announces “go!” once more. Kang-Dae dodges a series of quick punches from Chan, whose footwork remains light and skillful, as he circles the perimeter of the ring.

“Bang Chan utilizing lateral movement along the ropes,” a commentator says loudly. “Now, Kang-Dae is still excellent coming off the ring.”

Kang-Dae quickly coils his mitts around Bang Chan a second time, swiftly pushing him forward once more, and the referee is louder when he admonishes a second time.

“Back,” he tells Kang-Dae aggressively. “Can’t tie him in a hold.”

At a minute-thirty into the match, Chan delivers another punch, this time landing hard.

And with bated breath, you watch as Kang-Dae takes a harsh tumble to Chan’s left hook, quickly pulling himself off the floor again and retreating to his corner.

The audience erupts in roaring cheers as Chan adjusts the waistband of his shorts, rolling his tongue again over his mouth guard. The referee says something indistinguishable to Kang-Dae, who nods furiously in response, and then they meet in the middle of the ring again.

“After a slow start to round 1, Bang Chan drops Kang-Dae in round 2, marking only the second time to occur in his career,” the commentator announces. “We’re at 15 seconds left now.”

Both continue dodging a series of punches and circling each other, with neither delivering another jab as ceremonious as Chan’s for the remainder of round two. And then the referee calls time again, as the boxing bell chimes five times now, and they retreat to their corners once more.

While their respective teams make haste to tend to both athletes, the large screens overhead project highlights from round two in slow motion. You watch proudly as the recap shows Chan deliver a particularly harsh jab to Kang-Dae’s chest, lunging him backward until his footing is lost, his muscular thighs making contact with the floor of the ring. While he’s quick to get back up again, his expression is irate, and Chan does a perfect job of maintaining his stance when he attempts to hit back ten times harder.

“Focus,” Kang-Dae’s trainer tells him, as another member dabs at the beads of sweat that line his brow. “Don’t think about his campaigns. This is about you. Remember- he’s scared. Take advantage of it. Get up. Man up.”

Kang-Dae hardly produces an answer, simply grunting, as the mouth guard is pulled from between his teeth.

“He’s fast,” he says between labored breaths.

“Then be faster.”

On the opposing side of the ring, Mr. Seo pats Chan’s knee, pulling out his mouth guard and allowing him a swig of water.

“Atta boy,” he says to him. “Don’t overcommit. Perfect energy.”

Chan simply nods, rolling his shoulders back, as he’s massaged in the remaining seconds. And then they’re at the center of the ring once more, as the referee calls for round three.

*

Five rounds in, Bang Chan continues to take lead of the match, delivering a sharp uppercut to Kang-Dae’s jaw, which precedes another series of smaller punches.

The crowds seem to be much louder for Chan, his punches eliciting excited reactions from all over the arena as he throws hit after hit, and Kang-Dae’s expression appears defeated each time he retreats to his corner.

“Keep it coming,” Mr. Seo tells him. “Watch for those counters. Your hooks are perfect.”

He appears more breathless each time he hoists his body over the little stool, simply nodding in response to the praise around him. And right before the sixth match, he cranes his neck, as though he’s looking for somebody in the crowd of people. His eyes tremble as he scans over the east wing, and then the west wing, his staff members practically pivoting his body back in place to hydrate and clean him of sweat.

“Focus,” Mr. Seo says, forcing his gaze back upon him. Chan nods sheepishly- but Mr. Seo is well aware that Chan seems to be seeking you out amidst the crowd, a sort of desperation present within him like he’s never observed before.

He’s competent in this evening’s fight, but he also appears distracted, like there might be something more important to be found in your presence rather than the biggest fight of his life.

And ten rounds in, Mr. Seo’s theory proves correct when Chan’s performance begins to falter.

He fumbles a little in response to Kang-Dae’s swift attempts at a landing jab- and consequently, just enough to permit contact, failing to dodge when he produces a sharp uppercut to Chan’s left side.

It feels as though it’s another slow-motion replay when you watch it unfold, observing the way Chan’s whole body jerks to the left, his eyes squeezing shut and a stream of saliva escaping from between his parted lips. He successfully dodges another one at 10 seconds to the round’s conclusion, but he’s visibly rattled when they finally call for a break.

“Easy,” Mr. Seo instructs the staff who assist him onto the stool and pull his mouth guard away, strings of saliva finding purchase on his chin and then swiftly wiped off.

“What was that?” Mr. Seo questions. He’s stern, but still gentle in his speech, and Chan just shakes his head in response.

“Spit,” a staff member chimes in. Chan turns his head to expel a thick mix of saliva and bright crimson blood into a bucket, and then he holds it agape for a swig of water, swishing it over a deep cut on his inner lip before swallowing.

“Listen, you’re getting shaky out there,” Mr. Seo tells him. “What’s going on?”

“Where’s y/n?” Chan interjects, earning a deep sigh from Mr. Seo, who simply shrugs with his hands on his hips.

“Doesn’t matter,” he counters. “Don’t get distracted now. We’ve got three rounds left to win this thing.”

Chan’s shoulders seem to sag in disappointment, attempting to peer over his shoulder again for a glimpse of you, but Mr. Seo is quick to force Chan’s gaze back to him again.

“Listen to me,” he says sharply. “Get your head back on. You start getting distracted, and you’re practically handing him the belt. Focus.”

Chan hangs his head again, and then he nods understandingly, extending a hand to hoist himself back up.

“Two rounds,” Mr. Seo repeats. “Two more rounds, and you can take home the title. Knock him out.”

Chan nods again, as staff members tighten the velcro around his wrists once more, and then the timer reduces by the seconds, as he prepares to meet Kang-Dae in the center ring again.

When the boxing bell chimes twice for round eleven, Lin turns to you, arms folded at the elbows as she leans in to speak loudly above the chatter.

“Hey,” she says, and your head turns to meet her gaze.

She watches the match for a moment, admiring the sight of Chan dodging a hard jab, and then she resumes speaking.

“I know this series didn’t necessarily follow the footing you were expecting.”

You remain quiet, wanting for Lin to conclude her speech before producing any sort of response.

“But I wanted to say thank you. As of…” she glances at a wristwatch briefly, and then back to you, folding her arms again. “Fifteen minutes ago, we’re officially the most tuned-into channel for this fight. All because of your series.”

Your eyes widen when you meet her gaze properly, mouth parting in disbelief at her words.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious. Numbers are in, too- he averaged 15.2 thousand fans per broadcast. That’s more than twice of what we pulled in the last series.”

A breathy chuckle escapes your lips at the fact- it’s no secret this series was predicted to be huge for the channel, but you were hardly expecting to outdo your last by more than double the viewership.

Both your gazes fall to the ring, distracted momentarily at the sight of Chan delivering another hard jab to Kang-Dae’s side.

“I wanted to propose an offer,” Lin continues.

Your heartbeat quickens when she begins to speak the next part- perhaps she’ll convey to you that she knows broadcasting the moments which weren’t meant to be aired was wrong- and subsequently, it’ll be an offer to pull it from the channel entirely. Maybe she’ll acknowledge that you haven’t cared for this genre of series in a long while now, and suggest a transition to another topic.

“… for you to direct the next few parts, this time about his post-win life.”

You pause from viewing the match when she speaks, turning slowly to face her again, your expression visibly dropping at the proposal.

“Next… few parts?”

“That’s right. Seeing as he’s definitely going to win this thing, it’ll be huge. I’m thinking we can pivot to some… sports reality show, about Bang Chan only.”

She wears an amused smile on her face, nudging you with her elbow, as your gaze remains fixed on the match.

Below you, you watch Chan skillfully dodge a series of hooks, stumbling back on his feet.

And then in one swift movement, Kang-Dae delivers a strong uppercut to Chan’s left side, striking him hard in his jaw. You can hardly make out Chan’s demeanor when his whole body contorts to the left, his mitts coming up in an attempt to hold his jaw. But you can make out the unsightly image of blood and saliva trickling down the side of his mouth, and the way his eyes squeeze shut in a pained manner.

When the bell chimes five times to call for an end to round eleven, you shuffle quickly past Lin to the stairs, beginning your way down to where Chan’s team prepares a bucket and a towel. You don’t have any sort of plan devised, knowing very well that you’re prohibited from congregating in the midst of a match, but you make your descent anyway, overtaken with sheer panic at the sight of his weak silhouette.

“Hold that thought!” You call out to her, assisting yourself down the banister with the swift brush of your hand.

“What- where on earth are you going?” She calls, being met with no response, as she watches you near the blue corner of the ring.

*

“Is he okay?” You call out to Mr. Seo, quickly shuffling past Chan’s team to where he’s hoisted over the stool. His body lies limply back on the surface, chest rising and falling with short, sharp breaths as they dab blood from the corners of his mouth with a white towel.

Several members grant you entry to make your way closer to him, until you’re standing just behind his slouched figure, your hands coming up to grasp the ropes as you raise your voice.

“Chan!” You call, and he seems to straighten his posture, finally pivoting around to meet your gaze. His lips pull into a hazy smile, exposing his blue mouth guard, which drips with thick, stringy saliva, mixed with the harsh contrast of bright crimson blood. A single hand comes around to pull it out of him, instructing him to spit into a bucket. It’s Mr. Seo’s hand, you quickly realize, as Chan complies and swishes a mouthful of water over his wounds.

His brow appears bruised, a gaping cut being cleaned by several pairs of hands, and his shoulders look weak, you notice, as they work to loosen them up in massaging motions.

There’s no time to position him back into place, so Mr. Seo simply lets the conversation unfold between you two, dabbing at Chan’s bloodied wounds and understanding that leading you away is only going to distract him even more.

“I still haven’t been fully honest with you,” Chan begins to say to you, between labored breaths. Blood continues to dribble out from out between his lips, wiped away as fast as possible while the timer counts down until his return to the match.

“What?” You question, confused at the direction of his speech. You shake your head, aware he may simply be concussed, as your eyebrows arch in concern. “Chan, are you okay?”

“About what scares me,” Chan continues. He chuckles as he speaks, sounding almost crazy, as the etches of his gums are outlined again by deep crimson, dribbling onto his chapped lips.

“Losing scares the shit out of me,” Chan says to you. “But not just losing a match,” he clarifies.

Your eyebrows furrow as you watch a hand come around to dab at the gash on his brow again, the fresh white towel turning a dark shade of red as his blood soaks right through it.

“I never told you that I loved you,” Chan finishes.

You halt speaking, and perhaps also breathing, as his lips pull into a satisfied smile. “And that losing you is what scares me the most now.”

His team members glance at you curiously as they work to get him cleaned up, some of them just having seen you for the first time. A few of them know you to be the “filmmaker”, a little perplexed at his admission of romance to you. But before you can respond, Mr. Seo is shoving a guard back into his mouth and gesturing to the ring.

“Let’s go,” Mr. Seo commands. “Last round and we can bring this thing home. Let’s finish this at round twelve.”

Although Chan remains weak, he rises from the stool, kicking it aside and rolling back his shoulders. His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a moment, shooting you a saccharine smile, before pivoting back toward the ring and tapping his mitts together.

“Let’s finish this at round twelve,” he repeats, eyeing Kang-Dae’s figure from across the room.

And you say nothing- somewhere between dazed and also in love, as you begin back toward your seat.

The boxing bell rings just twice to indicate the start to round twelve- or otherwise the start of what could be the very last round in this match.

“And so we begin round twelve of this historic confrontation, between undefeated champ Bang Chan and his opponent Kang-Dae,” an announcer echoes loudly over the arena. Chan coming in again with strong jabs, appeared to be fully re energized as he corners Kang-Dae in the ring again.”

Your view of him is much more intimate than it was prior to being stood here on the outskirts of the ring. You can now observe every minuscule bead of sweat that flies off either member when the other produces a hit, and the thumping echos of their jabs are much louder at this proximity.

“This is certainly an adjustment by Kang-Dae,” the announcer states. “He seems to be quicker on his footwork. Chan seems like he’s resuming with heavy punches like before, but he’s still stumbling a little bit.”

Your heart races at their words, taking note of the way he visibly falters when Kang-Dae delivers a punch to his chest.

At the sight of Chan pivoting to dodge an uppercut, you glance around at the spectators, observing the sea of people whose eyes all remain set on his stumbling figure. They gasp when he gets hit once more, and they seem to laugh when he regains his balance, his arms darting out to strike Kang-Dae’s torso.

They flaunt colorful face paint, parade signs with images of his smiling face and shout for him to “fight, win!” as though their discoordinate voices may somehow be the defining factor of tonight’s outcome. And upon closer inspection, they even twirl sherbet popsicles around in their grasp, devouring them with such desperation, as though they could ever begin to comprehend the sacredness of Bang Chan’s favorite dessert- something entirely out of his reach now, unattainable. Much like a life not tainted by the pressure to win is.

It’s only then that you realize the deep sense of discomfort the sight instills within you- it’s entirely unnerving to be entertained by his fear- and even his pain, like this. To consume the sacred intricacies of his life, to know him at such proximity and put him on a pedestal like some higher power. Only to rob him of all things sacred, televise his secrets and serve as a stepping-stone into a life he never wanted for himself. Whether it be the relativity of a spectator to his public image, or of a lover to his vulnerability, it feels wrong. You can make sense of why Chan hadn’t wanted to do this for a good amount of his life now- it feels entirely too voyeuristic.

“… The current unofficial score reads 10-9, still in favor of Bang Chan,” the announcer reads. “Who’s keen on uppercuts- but Kang-Dae certainly isn't far behind with his jabs.”

Chan dodges another harsh jab, producing a strong hit to Kang-Dae, who appears breathless as he regains his composure.

“Folks, this could be the night Bang Chan maintains his unbroken winning streak, putting him ahead of all boxers in the Golden Gloves Championships for the last 20 years.”

The audience erupts in another wave of cheers when Chan hits Kang-Dae again, and again, producing repeated, robust punches to his torso.

You shift your weight onto your toes to catch a better glimpse of him, admiring the way he clenches his jaw angrily, fists spread to shield his face.

And at just 30 seconds to the conclusion of round twelve, Kang-Dae strikes again, lunging forward to deliver a harsh uppercut to Chan’s lower right jaw.

At first he stumbles backward a little bit- and then he seems to loose his balance entirely, collapsing onto the ground beneath him, his mitts outspread to soften the landing.

Although the arena is louder than ever before, it seems to grow almost silent as you hold your breath.

You approach the ring a little closer, your eyes scanning over Chan’s lying figure, his eyes blinking in a dizzied state as the recess lights illuminate his glistening torso.

He’s bloodied, in several more areas now, a generous stream of crimson growing in a patch on the side of his right eye.

You call for him once, and a second time, and then a third time- to no avail.

Perhaps your screams only escape from between your lips as whispers, if at all- that, you can’t tell, as the sound of your own heartbeat drowns out the physical noise of the arena.

A comforting hand is felt on your back, quickly realized to be Lin, from out of your peripheral vision, who watches equally as paralyzed.

The referee makes his way to Bang Chan, beginning to count down aloud, as the audience scream from all sides of the room at him.

“Get up!” They say, making erratic motions with the wave of their hands.

“You can still win!” Another is heard shouting, their voice in a clear state of panic.

“10, 9, 8…”

And as Chan lies, his back parallel to the floor of the ring, he remembers the feeling of this beside you, your languid figures silently relishing in the presence of one another.

Even with eyes shut tightly, Chan swears he can still see pairs of eyes observing him carefully, analyzing his every move and holding him to the standards of a consistent winner. Angle your fist upward. Quicker on the footwork. Harder. Faster.

Atta boy. Be a man. Be a winner.

It’s only when his coach has gone home for the evening, when the other athletes file out of the training gym one by one, towels slung over their broad shoulders and duffel bags packed with spare gloves and changes of clothes. It’s when he’s the last shower of the night, letting scorching water roll off his toned body, steam fogging the mirrors until his own reflection is indistinguishable to him once more. And it’s when he’s concluded throwing practice punches in the now-empty ring, his muscular back parallel to the floor of the ring just like this, and his eyes fixed on the gray industrial ceilings and recess lights. It’s only then that he isn’t so easily defined by a winning streak.

In fact, his wins mean nothing in the absence of other athletes, who are also defined by the numerical realities of trophies gained and matches lost. The world feels much clearer to him like this, no longer clouded by the gym chatter and bruised knuckles that seek permanent shelter in his conscience. He’s just Bang Chan- not a winner, not even a boxer. Just Chan.

And though he allows it to consume him entirely, often replacing his curiosity for the world around him and a lingering loneliness with the insatiable appetite to fight, win, conquer- he knows deep down that it’s still not all of him. There remains a sort of fragility tucked somewhere beyond all this rigidness- there’s still a heavy humanness underneath these conjectures that he’s the ‘perfect boxer’.

What is a winning streak relative to an empty boxing ring? What is a spectator relative to a participant? What are concealed identities relative to a lifetime of falsifying new ones?

“6, 5 …” the referee continues.

From well beyond his position, he can hear something about the historic event of watching a boxer lose his winning streak for the first time in his career, amidst the crescendoing sounds of simultaneous cheering and booing alike.

Kang-Dae jogs in place, tapping his own mitts together as he awaits Chan’s next move, mentally pushing for the second hand on the timer to move faster than 2mm per second.

“4…”

Yet Chan remains there, parallel to the floor of the ring he was practically raised in, letting a gush of crimson now conceal his sight, as his head cocks to one side in defeat.

“3, 2, 1.”

The word “loser” is uttered somewhere in the announcement of his loss, as Kang-Dae’s fist is raised victoriously in the air by the referee, preceding the loud blow of a whistle and another uproar of cheers.

And although the word rings throughout his ears like he’d always feared it would, it doesn’t sound nearly as scary as he imagined it might.

In fact, you’d have thought he won the match, by the way his lips pull into a satisfied smile, as the weight of a lifetime is lifted off his shoulders at last.

*

EPILOGUE

Calloused hands adjust the lavalier microphone a little higher up onto the collar of Chan’s button-down shirt, his fingers easing through the process, as he’s already done this a dozen times now.

He raises his index finger up to his right brow, running it along the row of butterfly bandages still adhered to the gaping wound he boasts, and your hand darts out instinctively to stop him, lowering his wrist back onto his lap.

“I said don’t touch it,” you instruct him.

He seems to wear an amused smile for the millionth time today, as though maybe he’s doing it on purpose to elicit a reaction from you.

Chan observes as you scribble something onto a stack of papers, your head lowered in concentration to review a long list of questions.

And then you meet his gaze finally, mirroring his smile with one of your own, as you gesture to the camera.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” you say to him. “Just answer as honestly as you can.”

“Are we rolling?” Chan asks, and he’s swiftly met with a nod of your head.

“Yeah,” you say to him. “We’re rolling.”

His hands fold in his lap, the jingle of his silver bracelet making itself known as he fiddles nervously, and then you start with the first question.

“Chan,” you begin. “You recently lost your first boxing match ever.”

He nods, not appearing disappointed, but rather contented, as he crosses his legs at the ankles.

“Can you tell us how you’re feeling?”

His eyes scan the ceiling momentarily, chuckling softly, before he speaks again.

“Nobody wants to lose,” Chan admits. “When I started boxing fourteen years ago, all I wanted to do was win. And I won consistently- at some point, losing ceased to even feel like a possibility. I hadn’t considered it very seriously.”

You nod as he speaks, and then Chan swallows nervously, before continuing.

“And then I began to think about losing,” he says. “And I couldn’t stop. The thoughts consumed me, to constantly imagine putting myself in the shoes of somebody who had to walk away from something so… unvictoriously.”

He sighs, and then he shrugs his shoulders just once.

“And now I’m a loser,” he finishes. “And I realize that there’s a lot more to boxing than just winning or losing. In fact, there’s more to the word than simply being a person who didn’t come out of it unvictorious.”

“What do you mean by that?” You say to him.

“Well,” he begins. “Prior to this event, I was fully set on forfeiting the whole thing. It’s something I had wanted to do for a long time- something I felt was right, in the midst of my aversion to this… vulnerable version of myself, that I kept tucked away from the public for my whole life.”

His expression grows serious now, brows furrowed as best as he can manipulate them, in deep concentration.

“And I realized that walking away from something you’ve always wanted, in response to a fear of your vulnerability- that’s unvictorious. I was scared for people to see me as any less than a strong, consistent winner. But that’s not realistic.”

You nod as Chan speaks, shooting him a proud smile- he’s allowing himself to be vulnerable on camera for the first time since you’ve met him. And though his voice shakes a little as he speaks, he conveys his truths so elegantly, the same way he did when you first interviewed him. He upholds this new image of him with such dexterity, careful not to accidentally portray a version of himself which might somehow contradict all that he’s learned. Yet it’s easier than he assumed it would be, he quickly realizes, when he finishes with a small nod of his head.

“I might be a loser in the sense of a boxing match,” he explains. “But relative to everything else I’ve gained along the way, I feel pretty victorious.”

You glance down at your papers, brushing your fingers over the next set of printed questions, and then you disregard them entirely when you meet his gaze again, producing your own now.

“You’re stepping down from being a boxer for the first time in your life,” you say to him. “Are you scared?”

Chan thinks it over momentarily, and then he shakes his head.

“I used to get punched by people for a living. There used to be so little that actually scared me.”

Your lips pull into a smile, recalling this conversation from long before his championship match.

“That being said-” he continues. “I’m terrified. But I guess that’s just a part of being honest with yourself. I’m just going to do it afraid.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, your eyes not leaving his as he observes the way you smile back at him. He’s just as charming as the day you met him- but he’s also real, and fascinating from this distance, made more perfect by extension of all his very human traits. His fears, reservations, embarrassments, frustrations- they’re all a part of who he is- not some “perfect boxer”, or a “born winner”, but simply Bang Chan- an imperfect boxer with one hell of a story to tell.

“Chan- what’s next for you?” You ask Chan, cocking your head slightly as you speak.

A breathy chuckle escapes his lips, his eyebrows raised curiously as he ponders the question.

“I’ll return to boxing someday,” he confesses. “It’s been an honorable 14 years here. I’m just going to find what else makes me tick. Maybe… pick up a thing or two about journalism?”

You laugh lightly when he does, shaking your head in response.

Of course he jests on the topic of journalism, knowing very well that you too, are set to take a break from this line of work following the air of the final interview.

With Chan losing the fight, Lin had begged you to rope him into another series, knowing that the general public had not faulted Chan for his broken winning streak. In fact, they had taken a larger liking to him than ever before, publishing raving reviews about his persistence to compete, despite his fears. And though you’d been offered a hefty pay to film another voyeuristic series into some new athlete’s life- a fencer, so you’ve heard, the offer was politely declined, as you opt to follow Chan on to the next chapter.

“Only if you teach me a thing or two about boxing,” you say to him, and he holds out a hand to shake on it.

“Deal.”

“That’s a wrap,” you tell Chan, as you press the shutter release one last time, detaching your camera from its tripod and stowing it away into its leather casing.

“Last time, huh?” A voice says from behind you.

You pivot on your heel to meet the gaze of Mr. Seo, who shoots you a kind smile as he makes his entrance, giving Chan a friendly pat on the back.

“Hey!” Chan exclaims, turning around to deliver a warm hug to him, instead.

“I was just leaving for the evening,” Mr. Seo tells you both, his hands on his hips. He then raises his eyebrows knowingly, glancing around at the gym, before gesturing to the wall with a cock of his head.

“Come on,” he says. “I wanna show you one last thing.”

You both exchange confused looks, and then oblige to follow him down the hallway into the ring, where he halts just in front of the gallery wall.

You crane your necks up to the portraits- all the familiar faces remain in their respective positions, except for the addition of one new photograph, concealed by a white sheet.

Before Chan can inquire about the recent addition, Mr. Seo pulls it off ceremoniously, letting the white fabric drape onto the floor of the gym to unveil a brand new photo.

This one’s in color, for the first time, the stark contrast of the bright blue mitts against his tanned skin drawing the attention of all your eyes. It’s a still shot of Bang Chan, his fists extended into a mean uppercut, eyebrows narrowed into a stern expression as he strikes at his opponent. You recognize it to be from the night of Chan’s title fight, and although he hadn’t taken home the title that evening, the photograph is no indication of any form of loss. In fact, he’s entirely indistinguishable from the rest of the winners housed on the wall- including Baik Hyun-Man, who now lives just to the left of him.

“You’re kidding,” Chan exclaims through tearful laughter. Mr. Seo just smiles, shrugging casually in response.

“All the greats are meant to live here,” he tells Chan. “Especially the winners.”

Before Mr. Seo makes his departure, the same black duffel bag hoisted over his shoulder, he stops in his tracks, turning to Chan with a sense of urgency in his voice.

“I almost forgot,” Mr. Seo exclaims. “Popsicles!”

“What?” Chan questions with a small chuckle.

“I found them finally, in the convenience store on the south side! I left them on the table for you toward the gallery wall, though. You’d better eat them before they melt.”

And then he’s off at last, the setting sun outlining his departing figure beyond the glass gym doors.

Chan does as he’s told, retrieving what are indeed his favorite sherbet popsicles from the table by the gallery wall, and providing you with one this time.

“You’re gonna love these,” he says to you, undoing the wrapper of both your popsicles and discarding them both on the gym floor.

“You’re making a mess!” You exclaim, as Chan shoves one into your grasp, instructing you to devour it entirely.

You bring the bright orange dessert up to your lips, taking a small lick, and Chan eagerly awaits your reaction.

“Well?” He questions, beginning on his own in the process.

“That’s phenomenal,” you say to him with a chuckle, taking another lick, and then another, and several more, the dessert quickly melting in your grasp and finding purchase along your forearms.

Chan laughs, too, bringing his lips down to your arm to trace his tongue along the trail of sticky sherbet and leaving a trail of tender kisses as he cleans you up. And then he kisses you just once when he’s finished, a sweet mixture of sherbet present on both your tongues as you bite back a smile.

When he pulls away to resume working on his popsicle, he cranes his neck up at the gallery wall once more, cocking his head to examine the rows of portraits.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, the way he always does, and you chuckle lightly in response.

“No need to interview the interviewer,” you say instinctively. And then you hum softly as you crane your neck, too, remembering you’re no longer an interviewer relative to Bang Chan, but rather comfortably in love with him, as you move onto the next chapter alongside each other.

“I’m thinking about all these boxers,” you opt to say instead. “Like, where do you think Hyun-Man is now?”

Chan hums in response, shrugging at your question. It’s a strange thought when he remembers how future spectators will be pondering his whereabouts someday, as they hold their respective gazes on this very wall.

“I don’t think he’d want us to know,” Chan confesses. “I think he purposely left us only with tales of guts and glory to remember him by.”

He tilts his head the other direction now, working his tongue along the base of his popsicle, before speaking again.

“Through tales of mine, of guts and glory,” Chan voices deeply, mimicking the renowned boxer’s famous last speech. And then his words are pacified by his popsicle, as he relishes in the flavor of something finally sacred to him once more.

But neither of you need to utter another word to conclude his sentence, mentally finishing it on your own.

“… we find our footing in the knowledge that we tried.”

[matty-bear]

The Elevator Game Gone Wrong PT.2 [M.S]

type: fic! 

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: VERY long, sfw, fluffy, alternate universe, paranormal activity, getting an attachment, seeing spirits, elevators

summary: As you and the triplets join Sam and Colby in investigating the most haunted hotel in Texas, the two ghost hunters suggest that Matt participates in a ritual called The Elevator Game. Little did everyone know that the ritual would actually work and your boyfriend would get stuck in another part of existence. 

notes: part two is finally here ! hope you guys enjoy it ^^ I really did NOT expect the first part to get so much attention but tysm for all the love ! I appreciate all of you very much <33 also, yes thats how this fic is gonna end there will NOT be a part three ;3 anywho, happy reading ! 

WC: 8969

PT1

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Matt?” You call out, your voice echoing rather loudly inside the empty elevator. You feel tears prick your eyes as you crouch down and take the discarded camera and horse necklace up off the floor. You practically cradle them both to your chest and shut your eyes tightly, your mind starting to spin as you begin to spiral. 

This can’t be happening.

The stupid ritual actually worked and Matt is gone. 

He’s stuck, by himself, in another plane of existence and you have no idea how to help him escape it. 

You should’ve persuaded him to not go. You should’ve been a good girlfriend and held him back. (As mean and selfish as that sounds) 

I mean if you didn’t let him go in the elevator the second time, this wouldn’t have happened right? Hell, if you didn’t let him go in the elevator period none of this would’ve happened. 

Sam and Colby probably would’ve gone in the elevator together. They could handle it, right? Of course, they could! They fucking professional ghost hunters for crying out loud! 

Forget about them… Matt is gone. Your boyfriend is gone and the chance of seeing him again is slim to none. What the fuck are you gonna do? 

You feel your chest tighten as you feel a lump form in your throat. As tears begin to cascade down your cheeks at a slow pace, you find it more difficult to breathe. Maybe it was because of the small space you were in or how your clothes were starting to become rather unbearable. 

Who are you kidding, Matt is fucking gone. 

You feel your chest tighten as you struggle to take air inside your lungs. The feeling made you panic more than you already were and you found yourself crawling back on your hands until your back hit the wall of the elevator. You hurriedly set the camera down next to you and begin to claw at your chest as you bring your knees up to your chest. 

As more choked sobs escape your lips, the muffled sound of footsteps approaches you. You see a tall figure in your peripheral vision but can’t distinguish who it is. Everything was so blurry and you couldn’t hear a thing except for your heartbeat that began beating loudly in your eardrums. 

You flinch rather harshly when you feel someone wrap their arms around you. You keep your head down as you allow the person to bring you against their chest. 

“y/n.” The person calls. They tap your shoulder a few times to get you to look up at them. At the sight of an all too familiar mop of red hair, you find yourself relaxing a little. “There you are! Look, I need you to listen to my voice okay? Can you hear me?” Nick asks, his voice nothing but soft as he looks down at your trembling frame. It takes a moment for you to register the male’s question but when it finally clicks, you slowly nod your head. 

“Okay, I need you to try your best and follow my breathing okay? Chris went to the car to grab some headphones and he’ll be back but as of right now, we need to try to ground ourselves okay? I’m right here. Just try to follow me.” 

You manage to focus your still slightly blurry vision on Nick’s mouth and wait for him to start going through a few simple deep breathing exercises before you attempt to follow. The moment you try to inhale, you immediately begin to cough your heart out. You shake your head with a small whimper and lean your head against the redhead’s bicep as you feel your heart tighten. 

“No, no, no. y/n, we need to try again. Come on, lift your head please.” Nick leans back a little to get you off him before he gently cups the side of your face, the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and pained expression as you begin hyperventilating breaking his heart. “Where the fuck is Chris? Does that mother fucker not know how to unlock a car and find a single pair of fucking headphones?” Nick looks behind him and locks eyes with Colby who’s looking down at the two of you worriedly. 

“He’s coming!” Sam exclaims, heavy exhales escaping his lips as he runs back to the three of you. 

“Fucking finally. God, my grandmother would be faster than his ass and she’s half fucking blind.” Colby smacks both of his hands over his face to muffle his laughter as Sam giggles and covers his mouth with his hand. Nick smiles softly and focuses his attention back on you as Chris runs up to the four of you. 

“Here. I could only find yours.” The younger pants out as he holds the redhead’s Apple headphones out in front of him. 

“That’s fine. What took you so fucking long?” Nick grumbles as he takes the headphones with his left hand and hurriedly digs in his pocket with the other. 

“I couldn’t find the car.” Nick quickly looks up and sends a glare to Chris who’s rubbing his nape and looking down at his shoes. 

“Of course you couldn’t.” After taking his phone out, the redhead quickly connects his headphones and opens up Spotify. “y/n look at me for a second. I need to put these on you.” You hesitantly comply and lift your head to allow the male to gently set his headphones on your head. After ensuring they’re comfortably over your ears, he quickly searches for a playlist that you and he often listen to and pushes play. The moment the soft beats of Halley’s Comet by Billie Eilish fill your ears, you find yourself claiming down nearly instantly. 

You shut your eyes and allow yourself to get absorbed in the music as you lean against Nick again. You feel the latter wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace, one of his hands softly hitting your back in a steady rhythm. Your heartbeat begins to follow the beat made and you soon find yourself calming down. When you’re finally able to breathe properly, you let out a soft exhale and slowly open your eyes. 

“Thank you, Nick.” You mumble softly, a faint sniffle coming shortly after your comment. 

“Of course,” Nick replies with a small smile. The boys allow you to take a few minutes to get yourself together before you pull away from Nick’s embrace and pull the headphones off your head and set them around your neck. The redhead intently watches as you stand up to your feet, his eyes watching your every move as you heavily exhale and look down at Matt’s horse necklace in your hand. 

“We need to get him back. I don’t care what we have to do, I need him back.” You state as you lift your head and look at Sam and Colby who are a few steps away from you. 

“I don’t really know how to hit the rewind button on this ritual per se. I didn’t think it’d work so I didn’t bother looking up how to bring something back.” Sam says as he looks down and rubs his nape, his lips forming into a straight line as he stares at the floor. 

“Well if you guys don’t figure out a way to get Matt back, I will not hesitate to do this stupid ritual over and over again until it takes me to the same universe he’s in. I'm sorry if I sound like a total jackass but I literally can’t live without Matt. And neither can Chris and Nick. We all need him back” 

“Sam and I will scavenge the internet to try to find a way to fix this, promise. But as for right now, we need all of you guys to get out of the elevator.” Colby says, his voice soft as he mentions for you and Nick to step out. You exhale heavily and gently nod your head before you walk out of the elevator, Nick following close behind you. 

You immediately make your way over to Chris who’s sitting on a bench across from the elevator. You look over at the male after sitting next to him and gently tap his knee to snap him out of the faint daze he’s in. After a moment, the male finally looks over at you and a frown immediately takes over your features at the sight of the male’s tear-filled eyes. 

“Oh Chris…” You mumble. You quickly wrap an arm around the latter’s shoulder to pull him against your side. When you do, the male doesn’t hesitate to bury his face in your neck. 

“I want Matt back.” Chris mumbles, his voice breaking slightly as he bites back the tears threatening to spill from his glossy eyes. 

“I know. We all do.” As you begin to rub comforting circles on Chris’ back, Nick takes a seat on the other side of the male and joins your attempts of calming him down. 

“Hey, guys?” Colby calls, his voice echoing in the elevator and seeping out into the hall. 

“What’s up? You find something else?” Sam asks as he quickly makes his way over to the male. 

“Yes, actually. I found a note under the camera but I can’t decipher it for the life of me.” 

“What?” You quickly pick your head up and look over at Colby who’s stepping out of the elevator and looking intently at the camera in his hand. “Lemme see.” 

The ghost hunter makes his way over to you and takes a small sheet of yellow paper off the bottom of the camera. You watch as his eyes skim over it a few more times before he hands it to you. Colby was right. On the small yellow sheet was horrible handwriting that was in… 

Crayon? 

“It looks like a kid wrote it.” You say, your eyes squinting as you try your best to decipher the words written. 

“A kid?” Nick asks as he and Chris quickly turn around to look at you. Both boys lean closer to get a better look at the note in your hand, the same bewildered expressions appearing on their faces as they stare at the writing. 

“Yall don’t think that Samantha wrote it, right?” Chris asks as he rips his gaze away from the note to look up at Sam and Colby who are already looking down at the three of you. 

“I’m not sure... How could she send a note to us?” Sam asks as he crosses his arms over his chest, his face deep in thought as he also stares down at the note in your hand. 

“Wait, is the onvoy still out?” You ask as you hand the note to Nick who has his hand out in front of him, gesturing you to give him the small piece of paper. 

“Yeah, it’s right here,” Colby replies as he walks over to the said device that has been discarded in the middle of the floor. “You wanna ask something?”

“Yes please.” Colby gently nods his head and sets the onvoy next to you on the bench. You force your lips together in a straight line, a sudden surge of fear filling your veins as you stare down at the device. After inhaling and exhaling deeply, you ask your question. 

“Samantha, are you the one that wrote the note that’s under the camera?” 

Silence fills the lobby the moment the question escapes your lips. You take a glance up at Colby before you turn your attention back to the onvoy, nervousness filling your body as you begin to hear your heartbeat loudly in your ears. 

Why isn’t it- 

Your thought gets cut off when you feel a quick jab on the side of your thigh. Your breath quickly hitches as you flinch and quickly turn around, fear glossing over your eyes as you move closer to Chris. The moment you go to open your mouth to say something, the sound of the onvoy dinging alters the five of you. You quickly turn your head around at the sound and lean in closer to the onvoy to read the glowing response. 

“It says yes.” You read, quickly leaning away from the device after you feel a cold shiver run down your spine. 

“Wait, how the hell did she get the note to us?” Colby asks as he picks up the device and switches it off. 

“I have no clue. And I kinda don’t wanna know so.” You reply, your voice trailing off as you hug your torso. 

“I know what this says,” Nick states as he holds the yellow note in between his fingers. At the male’s statement, you and the rest of the boys quickly look over at him. 

“What does it say?” Chris asks as he leans against the redhead’s shoulder, smiling slightly as he manages to make him fall back a little. 

“It says mirror room but it’s just horribly misspelled. I mean it makes sense since Samantha is a literal child but.” Nick replies, a faint grunt escaping his lips as he pushes Chris off him and sits upright. 

“Mirror room?” Sam repeats, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he takes a glance over at Colby. 

“Is she talking about the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine?” Chris asks, his head slightly tilting to the side as he looks up at the two ghost hunters in front of him. The moment the question escapes Chris’ lips, a small giggle escapes you at the feeling of two pokes coming in contact with your side again. 

“Samantha, I am not built for this, please do this to Chris. He’s right here.” You beg as you quickly slam your arm firmly against your side. When you use your free hand to gently pat the younger triplet’s shoulder, the male’s face grows pale as his eyes widen in pure fear. 

“Why would you say that?” Chris asks through gritted teeth. “Samantha, she doesn’t mean it. Please keep messing with her, not me.”

“Wait, maybe Samantha is trying to communicate with us through y/n. You know, considering how she touched her immediately after Chris asked the question.” Colby says as he points a single finger towards you and he looks over at the blonde next to him. 

“Samantha, if you would like to communicate with us through y/n instead of the onvoy, could you poke her two times for us?” Sam asks, his question causing your jaw to drop to the floor. 

“Guys, this is fucked uP-!” You say, your speech getting cut off by you giggling at the feeling of two pokes being delivered on your side. Your giggles soon turn into a small whine as you cover your face with both your hands and lean against Chris’ arm. 

“Did she poke you once or twice?” Sam asks. 

“Twice.” You grumble in response. “This is so fucked up why me out of all of us?” 

Sam shrugs in response. “Not sure. But at least we know how to communicate with her better.” Colby nods his head at the blonde’s comment as he lands a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Now, Samantha, would you like us to go to the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine? Remember, one poke no, two pokes yes.” 

The moment the question is asked, you feel Chris jerk away from you, a stream of panicked giggles spewing from his lips as he reaches for Nick. 

“Thank you, Samantha.” You say aloud, a small smile visible on your lips as you look over at the two boys next to you. 

“Did she poke you, Chris?” Colby asks, a small laugh escaping him as he watches the latter hurriedly rub his left side. 

“Yeah. Twice.” Chris replies, a frown forming on his lips as sends a quick glare in your direction. At the male’s intense look, you give him an innocent smile and quickly jab your hand into his side. A chuckle escapes you when Chris lets out a choked laugh and stumbles off the bench. “Bro, this isn’t funny!” The male exclaims as he lays on the floor and covers his face with his hands. 

“It’s a little funny,” Nick says with a smile as he bends down to reach the younger male on the floor. He lands a quick poke near Chris’ underarm and giggles when the male squeals and rolls away from him. “Dude, you squeal like a little girl.” 

“Nick, I will fucking rock your shit. Don’t play with me right now.” Chris says through gritted teeth as he sits up and leans against his arms. Nick raises his hands in defense and takes a seat closer to you as Sam walks up to the male on the floor. 

“Come on, I think we should head over to The Mezzanine,” Sam says as he holds his hand out in front of him. Chris looks up at the blonde for a moment, a small smile sneaking onto his lips as he grabs his hand and allows the male to help him to his feet. “y/n you wanna lead the way?” 

You slide your tongue over your teeth as you look over at Sam, your stomach churning out of anxiousness before you quickly avert your gaze from him to Nick. When you turn to the male, the redhead gives you an encouraging smile and gets up. The moment he holds his hand out for you, you smile widely and grab it as you follow suit in getting up. 

“Yeah. Let's head over there.” 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

“Okay, someone go in first I don’t fuck with the dark.” You say. After a few minutes of searching the hotel, you and the boys managed to find the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine. The moment you walked up to the doors and saw that the room was pitch black inside, you quickly backed away and walked behind Nick and grabbed both of his arms, basically making him your shield. 

“Hell no, I'm not going in first either!” Nick exclaims as he turns around and puts you back in front of him. 

“God, y'all are a bunch of pussys,” Chris mumbles as he walks past you and Nick to get to the door. After swiftly opening it, the male enters the large room and begins his short search for the light switch. Upon finding it, the boy turns all the lights on with a single flick of the finger. “Yall coming in or what?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.” You mumble, sending a look to Nick before you join Chris inside the room. As the rest of the boys trail behind you, you begin to wander deeper inside the room, your eyes staying glued onto the mirrors as you quickly observe them. 

“Okay, now why would Samantha bring us here? It’s just a room full of mirrors.” Nick asks, his eyes following your frame as you continue to walk around the room. 

“Maybe she left another note?” Colby suggests as he sets his backpack and camera down on the floor against the wall. 

“Let’s start looking around the-“ 

“Matt?” At your sudden exclamation, all the boys quickly whip their heads around in your direction. They silently watch as you run up to the mirror at the end of the room with wide eyes before they all run up after you.

“What happened?” Nick asks as he stops behind you and sets both his hands on your shoulders. 

“I saw Matt in the mirror.” You say, stumbling over your words slightly as you point to the mirror in front of you. “I managed to catch a glimpse of his hair before he walked to the left.” 

“Are you sure you saw him?” Colby asks, his voice holding a sense of uncertainty as he raises an eyebrow and looks up at the mirror in front of all of you. 

“I swear on my life it was Matt! I could recognize his ass from a mile away!” You slip away from the group to walk to the mirror to your left. The mirror that Matt walked towards. You stand in front of the said mirror and your hold on his horse necklace tightens as you desperately look around the glass. 

You needed to prove to the guys that you weren’t seeing things. They probably think you're going insane right now and you can’t have that. 

The moment you go to walk to the next mirror, you feel a small tug on your sleeve. You quickly jump away with wide eyes and cover the area where you got touched. 

“Samantha is that you?” You call out, your statement drawing the attention to the group of boys still standing in front of the other mirror. At the feeling of two small pokes on your knee, you heavily exhale and nod your head softly. “Can I see Matt in the mirrors?” Another two pokes. “See! She said yes!” 

“But how is that possible? You can’t see another person in a mirror unless they’re in front of it.” Sam says as he walks up to you, the rest of the boys following close behind him. 

“I have no idea how it’s possible but Samantha confirmed that I’m not going crazy.” You don't wait for the blonde to stop in front of you before you walk off to the next mirror. Sam stops in his tracks and looks back at Colby, a look of uncertainty clear on his face as he locks eyes with the male. The latter simply shrugs in response and pats the blonde’s shoulder before he, Nick, and Chris follow you. 

“Matt?” You call you again, your eyes desperately searching the mirrors in hopes of seeing your boyfriend again. You let out a frustrated huff when you reach the end of the wall. No Matt here. You quickly turn on your heels to begin your search on the other wall. The moment you walk up to the first mirror, your breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes land on an all too familiar mop of chocolate brown hair. “MATT!”  

You run up to the mirror showcasing your boyfriend curled up in a tight ball against a wall with both of his arms covering his head. The closer you got to the mirror, the more you could faintly make out his rapid and labored breaths. 

“Matt?” You shout as you delicately set your fingertips on the glass. You watch with wide eyes as Matt quickly looks up and whips his head around, trying to find who called him. 

“Hello?” The male calls out, his voice sounding rather muffled as he hurriedly stands up. 

“Matt it’s me, y/n! Can you hear me?” 

“y/n?..”

At the sound of quickening footsteps approaching you, you quickly turn around to see all the boys coming up to you. The same shocked expression can be seen on all of their faces as they look up at the mirror. 

“It’s fucking Matt.” Chris breathes, tears welling up in his eyes as he grabs onto Nick’s bicep.

“How the hell…” Colby mumbles.

“Matt!” Nick shouts as he drags Chris up to where you are standing directly in front of the mirror. 

“Nick?” Matt calls, his voice wavering slightly as he clutches his clothed chest. 

“Matt, we’re all here. Me, Nick, Chris, Sam, and Colby. Can you see us?” You ask. You all watch as Matt rubs his eyes with his palms and looks around aimlessly. 

“No...” Matt replies sadly as a frown overtakes his lips. 

“Matt, do you see a mirror anywhere by any chance?” Sam asks as he and Colby walk closer to the mirror. 

“Umm…” Matt’s voice trails off as he begins to walk around. The moment he goes to walk outside of the mirror, you all yell at him. 

“NO, MATT!” You all exclaim in unison. The male jumps at y’all’s exclamation and quickly walks back to where he was. 

“Look in front of you,” Chris instructs, a small giggle escaping him as he watches his brother cross his arms over his chest with a frustrated exhale. Matt complies and looks straight ahead, his eyes widening slightly when his gaze lands on a small mirror with a black frame. 

“I see one!” Matt exclaims as he quickly runs up to it. As he does so, he nearly takes up the entire space of the mirror the five of you are looking in, his tall frame looking over you guys as he scans the mirror on his side. You and the boys immediately begin to back up to get a better view of the male, small chuckles escaping a few of you at the sight of Matt mimicking a mine as he sets his hands on the glass. 

“Can you see us in-“ You cut yourself off when Matt suddenly yelps and jumps to the side. 

“What the fuc-“ The male starts, cutting himself off when he looks to his side and sees something. 

“What happened?” You ask, worry washing over you as you see Matt take a few steps back, his eyes wide in fear. 

“Samantha’s next to me.” 

“WHAT?” Chris exclaims, his jaw-dropping as he quickly whips his head around to face Sam and Colby, the two sharing the same expression as him. 

“Wait, we can’t see her,” Nick says, his eyebrows furrowing together as he over at the space that Matt is looking down at. You watch intently as Matt reaches his hand next to him, your eyes widening when you see a yellow sheet of paper appear in his hand moments later. 

“That’s the same sheet that was under the camera,” Colby states, earning a small head nod from you and the other boys. 

“Thanks,” Matt says slowly. You see the male smile slightly before he looks down at the paper in his hand. “Awh, this is wonderful Samantha thank you.” 

“What’d she give you?” The moment the question slips out of Sam’s lips, Matt flips the paper over and holds it against the mirror, allowing the five of you to see it. You can’t help the large smile appearing on your lips when your eyes land on the shark drawn with a blue crayon on the yellow sheet of paper. 

“Awh, that’s so cute!” Chris gushes as he jumps a few times. 

“Do they like it?” You hear a small voice ask. Collective gasps emit from you and the boys the second you guys hear the voice. 

“Yes, they love it,” Matt confirms with a smile. A small, high-pitched giggle rings through your ears before Matt faces the mirror again. “Guys I'm fucking petrified here please bring me back.” 

“We’re not finding anything on how to get you back, Matt,” Colby says, a frown appearing on his lips. Matt covers his face with both his hands as a shaky exhale escapes him. You find yourself shaking your head slightly as you force your lips together and dig your hand in your pocket to take your phone out. The moment you unlock the device, you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Nick says softly, his minty breath fanning over the right side of your face as he peers down at your phone. 

“Trying to find a way on how to bring Matt back.” You reply, your thumbs quickly tapping the screen as you google the ritual Matt did in the elevator. Silence fills the room as you type away on your phone, your eyebrows knitting together as a determined and focused expression spreads across your face. 

“Home?” You quickly pick your head up the second Samantha’s voice fills your ears. You watch Matt remove his hands from his face, your expression falling into one of worry at the sight of your boyfriend’s glossy eyes, before he looks down at the space he was looking at previously. 

“What was that?” Matt asks softly, a small sniffle escaping him as he quickly wipes away the tear that escapes his eye. 

“You wanna go home?” You hear Samantha ask. 

“Yes, I really wanna go home,” Matt replies as he furiously nods his head. 

“You don’t belong here?” 

“No, I don’t. I belong somewhere else.” 

“Where?” 

“Just somewhere else.” 

“With y/n?” You feel your heart skip a beat the moment your name escapes the little girl’s lips. 

Matt’s eyes widen and his words get caught in his throat for a moment before he hurriedly replies. “Yes with y/n. With my two brothers and friends too.” 

“How did you get here if you don’t belong here?” 

“I decided to play a little game that I shouldn’t have played by myself.” 

“What game?” 

“Just a little game in the elevator.” 

“Oh! I know that one!” 

Matt’s face falls into one of worry the moment Samantha answers. “You do?..” Matt asks, his voice trailing off as he takes a glance over at the mirror next to him. 

“Yes! I like to play it with my friends! We get to go somewhere else if it works! It’s a lot of fun.” 

“Wait, do you know how to take me back to where I belong then?” 

“You belong in the place where me and my friends go?” 

“Yes! Yes, I do.” As you hear the small girl hum softly, you quickly turn around to look back at the boys behind you. 

“She knows about the elevator game.” You say, your voice soft and low as you try to not get Samantha to hear you. 

“Let’s hope she knows how to send Matt back,” Chris adds as he begins to nibble on his bottom lip. 

“I think so.” You hear Samantha say. You could tell she was rather unsure with her reply due to her voice going up a few octaves at the end of her sentence. 

“Could you try to send me back, please?” Matt asks as he looks down at the girl, a pleading expression clear on his face. 

“Yeah! Come with me!” Without allowing the male to get another word out, Samantha grabs Matt’s hand and pulls him away and out of the mirror. The second the male vanishes, your face drops and you quickly turn around to face the boys behind you. 

“We have to go back to the lobby. Now.” You state, giving all the males a stern look before you exit the Maximilian. 

“y/n, wait up!” Nick exclaims as he begins to run after you, the other three boys soon running after the both of you. 

Matt’s POV

The constant colors of blue and yellow have been blinding my vision the entire time I’ve gotten to this universe. This world is a replica of the regular world apart from the fact that the majority of this world is in those two colors. While wandering around this universe’s hotel, I did encounter a hallway that was a different color. However, I didn't think about walking down it considering how it was a deep red color. And if my representations of colors were correct, I know that you should always stray away from red since it’s often tied to danger. 

Honestly speaking, I didn’t expect this elevator ritual to work so when it did, I had a full-blown freakout. I mean, why would I not? I’m in a different universe and couldn’t contact anyone. Not to mention how the camera I was using to record myself and my horse necklace completely vanished into thin air the second I got ‘transferred’ over here. 

Adding to my list of things I didn’t expect, I didn’t expect to be able to see hundreds of spirits walking around. No one seemed to care about how I was there and kept going on their merry way, floating around the hotel grounds as I wandered around like a lost child in a grocery store. I almost gave up on my search trying to figure out where the hell I was and how to get out but when I heard y/n’s voice, I gained a little bit of hope. But the fact that I couldn’t see her and the rest of the guys frustrated me heavily. And they could somehow see me? I have no idea how that makes sense but I didn’t even bother asking because I was sure they wouldn’t have an answer. 

My first encounter with Samantha while I was talking with y/n was absolutely terrifying. The little girl that I saw in a painting was standing next to me and communicating with me. She had a bright yellow aura surrounding her, which was a great contrast to the other spirits who held a dull gray one. I’m assuming that she was the only one who had this aura because she’s a kid and still has that child-like innocence to her. But the moment she mentioned that she and her friends played the elevator game for fun, I could not believe my ears. 

I mean, she doesn’t know better and probably thinks it’s all fun and games but to me, it’s the complete opposite. That little game of hers got me here in the first place. Now, I'm not blaming her because she's a literal child and has no control over this but the elevator game being fun??? That’s just mind-boggling. 

“Wait, where are we going?” I ask, my eyes squinting as Samantha’s aura begins to blind me. 

“The elevator, silly!” The little girl replies, a small giggle emitting from her smiley lips as she continues to drag me down the blue and yellow hallways. A small sigh escapes my lips as I continue to let Samantha lead me to the first floor, thankfully with the use of the stairs, and to the lobby where the elevators were. “Get in!” With a small push of a button, the elevator doors open to reveal a purple-filled space with blotches of yellow coating the brims of the elevator walls. 

“Good to know there’s no red in here,” I mumble under my breath.

“What did you say?” Samantha quickly turns around on her heels, her dress momentarily twirling around her as she looks up at me with large doe eyes. 

“Nothing.” I give the girl a small smile before I enter the elevator. I immediately excuse myself to go to the corner as Samantha enters right after me. As she walked up to the panel of buttons, I could faintly hear her humming a soft tune, her body subconsciously swaying along to the tune. After pushing the button for the first floor, she turns back around and walks up to me. 

“Will you come back to visit me?” Samantha asks with a large toothy grin. I feel my heart ache as the small girl looks up at me. As I force my lips into a straight line, I begin to have a small mental battle about whether or not I should be honest with her. 

“I’m not sure, Sammy. I really wanna go back home.” I reply softly. 

“Can I come with you?” The moment Samantha asks me that question, I feel my heart drop. Panic immediately fills my body as I blink down at the girl in front of me. 

“No, I'm sorry. You need to stay here with your friends. They’ll miss you if you don’t come back.” 

As Samantha’s smile forms into a pout, the elevator dings faintly before the doors open. I watch as the small girl turns around and goes to push the next floor, her pout not faltering.

“y/n seems nice,” Samantha says softly as she makes her way back to me. 

“She is a wonderful girl. I’m very lucky to have her in my life.” I comment as my lips form into another large smile. 

“I think she’s scared of me.” My smile falls into a slight frown as I look down at Samantha. 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Every time I try to get her attention, she always looks so scared. She hasn’t looked as scared the last few times I poked her but I know she’s scared of me.” As Samantha picks her head up to look at me, I feel my heart shatter as I take in her large and glossy doe eyes. “Am I scary?”

“Oh no, not at all Sammy.” The moment I open my arms, Samantha runs closer to me and crashes into me. As I wrap my arms around her and gently pat her head, the small girl nuzzles her face into my stomach. 

“Are you sure?” Samantha asks, her voice cracking as tears begin to run down her small face. 

“I’m sure, sweetheart. You are not scary at all. In fact, you are quite adorable and so sweet.” I reassure the girl as I begin to run her back comfortingly. As Samantha sniffles softly, the faint ding of the elevator doors opening causes me to lift my head. I let out a small sigh before I bend down and lift the girl into my arms. As I make my way over to the panel of buttons, Samantha wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head against my shoulder. 

Carrying this small kid has to be the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. She practically weighs nothing and my skin is tingling. 

Why am I tingling?.. 

“Hey, Sam?” I call, my index finger gently poking the said girl’s side. I smile softly when she squirms away with a high-pitched giggle. 

“Yes?” Samantha replies as she lifts her head off my shoulder to look over at me. 

“What floor do we go to next?” 

“Six!” 

“Alright, thank you.” Samantha hums softly in response and returns to her spot on my shoulder. After I push the bottom to the sixth floor, I walk back to the corner I was previously at. Comfortable silence fills the elevator as I continue to hold Samantha close against me, her soft breath tickling my neck as she begins to faintly hum the same tune from earlier. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Your POV 

You find yourself pacing back and forth in front of the elevator as Salt In The Wound by boygenius fills your ears. You can see Sam and Colby talking to one another in your peripheral vision, however you can’t make out their voices due to the headphones on your head. 

You had no idea how to wrap your head around what happened 15 minutes ago. You thought you lost Matt for good yet you were able to talk with him through a mirror. The whole thing sorta of reminded you of Bloody Mary but minus all the scary aspects. The fact that Matt was able to physically see and communicate with Samantha while he was in the other universe was pretty shocking to you. You hope that the girl will stay true to her word and help your boyfriend back in this world. 

God knows you desperately need him back. 

You get snapped out of your pacing and your daze by a small tap on your shoulder. You flinch rather harshly and rip the headphones off your head, your eyes mimicking those of a deer caught in headlights as you stare wide-eyed at the person who tapped you. 

“Fucking hell, Chris. You scared the shit out of me.” You say as you clutch your chest. 

“My bad.” Chris apologizes with a small smile. “Nick wants you to eat something.” At the male’s statement, you turn your head and immediately make eye contact with Nick who’s holding his hand out, an open pack of fruit snacks on the palm of his hand. At the sight of the snack, your mouth shapes into a small oval before you scurry over to the redhead and take a seat next to him. The moment the male hands you the pack, you shoot him a large toothy grin before you indulge in the snack. 

“I can’t be the only one who can’t believe what just happened,” Colby says as he rubs the side of his face with his hand. 

“No, I can’t either. That was fucking insane.” Nick agrees as he quickly points over to the male before he fishes another pack of fruit snacks from his pocket. 

��It reminded me of Bloody Mary a little bit. You know since they both deal with mirrors.” Sam chimes in as he nibbles on a single club cracker. 

“Me too!” You exclaim, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you continue chewing on your gummies. 

“Do you guys really think that Samantha will help Matt? I mean, she is a little kid after all.” Nick asks as he stuffs a few fruit snacks in his mouth. 

“I don’t know but I hope she’s able to bring him back.” You reply as you sigh gently and continue chewing. 

“Hey guys?” Chris calls. You and the rest of the boys quickly look over at the male who’s looking at the elevator with slightly wide eyes. 

“What’s up?” Sam asks as he lifts himself off the wall he’s leaning against to walk over to the youngest triplet. 

“Was the elevator always on the fifth floor?” Your head quickly turns to look over at the number atop the elevator. And low and behold was the number five shining brightly above the golden doors. 

“Wait, why is it blue?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you stare at the bluish glow emitting around the number. “Wasn’t it always white?”

“Yeah, it was…” Colby replies, his voice trailing off as he takes a stand next to you. “That’s weird.” 

The moment you go to fix your gaze back to the half-empty pack of gummy snacks in your hand, the sound of Chris gasping rather loudly causes you to pick your head up again. 

“What’d I miss?” You ask quickly as you look over at the male. 

“The number is going down,” Chris replies as he points up to the number shining brightly atop of elevator doors. Your eyes widen the moment that statement escapes Chris’ lips and you quickly look over at the elevator again. 

“What the actual fuck…” You hear Nick mumble next to you. You feel your heart beat loudly in your ears as you watch the number above the elevator slowly go down. The moment the number one appears, your eyes quickly shift over to the elevator doors. You had no idea what was happening but you knew that the elevator arrived at the floor all of you were currently on. It could be that another person is taking the elevator and they’re coming to the lobby but why was it stuck on the fifth floor? 

You get pulled out of your thoughts when you hear a small ding coming from the elevator. Subconsciously, you reach over to Nick and grab his hand for mental support as you hear your heartbeat quicken in your ears. After a few moments, the elevator doors slowly begin to open. After it finally opens halfway and you don’t see anyone, your gaze falls back to the pack of fruit gummies in your hand. 

Stupid fucking haunted ele-

“MATT!” You hear Nick exclaim, his hold on your hand vanishing as he quickly gets up and runs to the elevator. You quickly pick your head up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name and see all the boys rushing inside the elevator. Your mind seems to lag for a minute as you sit there, frozen, until you finally get back to reality and join everyone in the elevator. You nudge your way through the small crowd of boys to get to the middle and the moment you see an all too familiar set of blue eyes look down at you, tears immediately begin to well in your eyes. 

“Matt.” You sob. You immediately crash into your boyfriend’s arms when he walks closer to you and opens his arms out. You bury your face into Matt’s chest and curl your fingers against his clothed back as a steady flow of tears runs down your cheeks. “You’re back.” 

“I'm back, I'm right here,” Matt whispers softly as he begins to land soft kisses on the top of your head. The male shuts his eyes tightly and takes in your comforting scent as he begins to tear up himself. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” You remove yourself from Matt’s chest to look up at him. “Never do that shit again. I won’t let you.” 

“I won’t, I promise.” Matt brings a hand up to the left side of your cheek to cup your face, this thumb beginning to wipe away your tears as he locks eyes with you. A few beats of silence pass by before the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts y’all’s small moment. 

“I apologize for interrupting but I’m feeling quite claustrophobic here,” Nick says as he gestures to the small space around him.  

“Yeah, and I think I’d like to leave this trauma-inducing elevator,” Matt adds with a smile, his statement earning faint laughs from all the boys. You watch as all the guys file out of the elevator and walk back into the lobby. Before you grab Matt’s hand to pull him out with you, you turn back to face the male with a small smile. The brunette shifts his gaze down towards you and smiles softly before you decide to grab his face and pull him down to capture his lips for a quick kiss. 

“Never thought I’d be able to kiss you again.” You say after you pull back, the same smile visible on your lips. 

“Hey! No sucking face in the elevator!” You both hear Chris exclaim. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the boy’s statement before you take Matt’s hand in yours and pull him out of the elevator. 

“I think it’s safe to call it a night,” Colby says, a heavy exhale escaping his lips as he picks his backpack up off the floor. 

“I thought we still had the Estes Method to do,” Chris says, his eyebrows furrowing as he watches the two ghost hunters collect their equipment. 

“Well…” Sam starts as he detaches the light from one of the cameras. “We do but a lot has gone down and I think we should wrap things up here. Right, Matt?” 

“Most definitely. I saw and interacted with enough spirits today.” Matt confirms as he rapidly nods his head in agreement. 

“We can pick up another day if you guys want. I think we have plenty of footage for the video but we’ll release something at the end explaining what happened with Matt without giving away too much information.” Colby suggests as he swings his bag over his shoulder, one of his hands resting against the strap to hold it in place. 

“We can pick back up in two days,” Nick says, taking a glance over at Matt and Chris and waiting to gain small head nods of approval from them before he looks back at Sam and Colby. “We do have another week here.” 

“Well, let us know. You guys do not have to continue the investigation if y'all don’t want to. As Colby said, we should have enough footage for the video.” Sam reassures, a small smile appearing on his lips as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.  

“We will,” Matt says with a smile of his own. 

“Well, we’ll see you guys later. We still have that dinner reservation in three days so don’t forget!” Colby exclaims as he points a finger at all of you. 

“We won’t.” Chris chuckles. “Thanks for inviting us guys!” 

“Dude, of course.” You and the triplets begin to share quick hugs with Sam and Colby before the six of you begin to head towards the exit of the hotel. Upon arriving at the front doors, Matt holds the door open for you to allow you to be the first person to step outside. When you do, you take in your first breath of fresh air with a content smile. 

“God, how much I missed seeing the outside world.” You sigh as you turn around to face the rest of the boys. 

“Oh me too.” Colby agrees with a rapid head nod. 

“We’ll see y'all later! You guys make it back to your hotel safely.” Matt says as he walks up to you, his left hand instinctively going to reach out to grab yours 

“Yall too! Goodnight guys!” Sam shouts with a large smile as he and Colby wave goodbye to the four of you. You and the triplets bid farewell to the ghost hunters before walking through the parking lot in search of the van. 

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see a car in my entire life,” Matt mumbles as he takes his car keys out. As the male unlocks the car, you giggle softly and watch as Nick and Chris hop in the back. Matt looks over at you and lands a quick kiss on your forehead before he brings you to the passenger door. You slip inside the car with a small smile when the male opens it and gently shuts it when you get yourself situated in your seat. 

“God I'm fucking exhausted.” Nick breathes as leans against the car window, his eyes shutting in the process. 

“Ima knock out. I kid you not.” Chris adds as he pulls his seatbelt over his body. 

“Y'all better wake the hell up when we get to the hotel. I’m not carrying y'all up to the room.” Matt says as he slips in the driver's seat, a soft thud coming from the door after he shuts it. 

You manage to catch Nick making a talking gesture with his hand in your peripheral vision as you look over at Matt. You watch silently as the male puts his seatbelt on and pulls the gearshift down to drive. Before he begins to drive off, he looks over at you and sends you a large smile before capturing your lips for a quick kiss. 

“I’m never leaving your side again.” You say as you shift in your seat to lean your head against the cold window. 

“Same here. I’m never letting you out of my sight.” Matt smiles as he takes a glance at all his mirrors. After backing out of his parking spot, your boyfriend reaches over to grab your hand as he finally drives off. As the male gently caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, you find yourself drifting off into a deep slumber. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

A week later… 

“Okay Matt, this is starting to scare me. Do I need to make you an appointment right now?” 

“No, I'm fine.” 

“Matt you’ve been on the floor for the past five minutes and you look like you’re fucking giving birth. You are clearly not fine.” 

“What’s happening?” You ask as you walk inside the warehouse, the door shutting close behind your heels as you forcefully pull it shut.

“Look at your boyfriend,” Nick says as he points down at the said male. You follow the redhead’s finger and worry washes over you when you see Matt curled up on the floor, his eyes screwed shut as a pained expression paints his face. You quickly set the McDonald's bags in your hands down on the nearby sofa before hurrying over to Matt. 

“Baby, this is the third time I’ve found you like this this week.” You say as you sit down near the brunette’s head. After Matt doesn’t say anything and simply rests his head in your lap, you let out a small sigh and begin to card your hand through the male’s hair. “Is it still your lower back?” 

Matt gently nods his head. “It really fucking hurts. It’s like a bunch of tiny needles pricking my skin. It feels so weird and tingly.” Matt mumbles, a sharp hiss escaping him shortly after he finishes his sentence. 

“Matt, again?” You hear Chris ask, his footsteps becoming louder as he walks into the room. You hear the male sigh before you take a glance up at him. 

“You guys are acting like I'm in control of this fucking happening. Cut me some slack, holy shit.” Matt grumbles as he digs his face into your thigh. 

“Have you texted Sam or Colby?” Chris asks, averting his question to you as he raises a single brow. 

“No… why would I?” You question back, your eyebrows knitting in confusion as you send the male a look. 

“I have a gut feeling that they have an idea about what’s happening. Just saying.” Chris shrugs as he makes his way to the McDonald's bags on the sofa. You shake your head with a small chuckle when the male digs in one of the bags and takes out his food before he walks off. 

“Should I text one of them?” You ask as you look over at Nick who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“You can if you want. It’ll shut Chris up.” The redhead replies with a shrug. You gently nod your head and pull your phone out of your pocket. “Maybe text Colby. He responds a lot quicker than Sam.” You give Nick a thumbs-up before opening your chat with Colby. You twirl your thumbs around the keyboard for a moment trying to figure out what to say before you finally start typing. 

You: hey colby ? I have a question to ask you 

Colby: Ask away! 

You: so matt has been having these pains in his back and i was wondering if you had an idea as to why he’s been having them 

I know it’s random but chris had a hunch that you guys might know soo … 

Colby: His back…? 

You: yea

Colby: Like his lower? Upper? 

You: lower 

Colby: Oh shit

You: what … what’s wrong 

Colby: I think Matt got an attachment 

You: a WHAT ?!?

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[bradshawsbitch]

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎» ‎𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⁘ amongst salt water skin and silken sheets lies insecurities and innocence, but also tenderness and a willingness to learn...

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

prompt; ❝  well,  honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.  ❞ and  ❝  don’t be nervous,  i’ll guide you through it.  ❞

word count; ~ 6.1K

× chapter warnings; loss of virginity, virginity as a normative concept, p in v sex, no use of y/n, smut, porn without plot, creampie, hair tugging, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption(?) if you squint maybe, rooster is a consent king

request; by @diorrfairy. I'm so sorry this took so long my love 🫶

disclaimer; I was rather torn with how I wanted this fic to go. on one hand I wanted it to be how I wished my first time was, yet I did not want to accidentally make it seem as if this is how a 'first time' is supposed to be, if that makes sense. I therefore tried to make it realistic in the way I experienced sex for the first time, but still making it softer, and sweeter, and the way I figure I'd want a first time with someone you love to be. for me sex hurt the first like five times but also my first bf was 6'5 and he was fucking huge so like yeehaw.

tagging people who might like; @roleycoleyland @roosterforme @lewmagoo @theharddeck @seresinsweetie @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts

Being with Bradley was easy. It was sunny, comfortable, and safe. The soft gaze of the aviator could turn your knees weak in a heartbeat. The way he touched you, the way he listened and understood you - and most of all, the way he never pushed you harder than needed to explore new things if you didn’t want to.

Previously, in all relationships you’d had - whether platonic or romantic, you found that people pushed you. Pushed you to participate in things you maybe weren’t entirely ready for, or didn’t wholly feel comfortable with. Like the first time you got drunk, even though you’d told your friends you’d rather just try one beer and then drink soda. 

Bradley, however, understood the need for you to feel comfortable and safe. He understood that you needed time to contemplate, to reflect, and to sort of turn and twist an event in your mind a few times before throwing yourself headfirst into it. 

So, when the two of you started getting serious, and you, with heat rising to your face, confessed that you ‘hadn’t done much’ in the sexual department, his amber gaze had softened. He’d smiled softly, cradled your cheek in one of his large palms, and placed a tender kiss upon your lips as he promised to take everything in the pace you deemed appropriate.

He wasn’t in a hurry, he’d said before enveloping you in his arms, letting you nuzzle your face into his chest and his safe embrace. Inhaling his scent and feeling his strong arms and hands holding you so delicately, you truly felt safe in his promise not to rush anything.

Bradley had not quite understood your timidness when telling him about not having too much experience. He figured maybe you’d fooled around a little in college with some boys or girls, but that you hadn’t had too many mind blowing sexual encounters. As beautiful and kind as you were, Rooster had a hard time imagining anything else. However, his mother had raised him to always respect a ladies wishes - however small or big that wish was, and he was nothing if not a caring soul himself. He always wanted you to feel safe with him, wanted you to feel you could confide in him, and lay worries and hardships for him to carry with you. 

Which was why he was perfectly content to spend lazy afternoons making out with you straddled on his lap, only sneaking in a squeeze of your ass sporadically - keeping his hands placed gently on your waist, only ever letting them grace slowly upwards to your ribcage and to the wire of your bra. The small little noises you made drove him wild, but he wouldn’t be the person to push you. No, Bradley was more than willing to wait until you asked him to touch you. 

However, as compassionate and patient a man as Bradley was - he was also a little insecure. He had never felt the way he did with you, and he was glad that you both seemed to be on the same page of slowly cherishing each other’s comfort. Felt secure in that this was something you both felt was something special.

Your relationship was not something that needed to be rushed, because both of you felt that this might be it. But one human can only take so many rejections before they start to wonder if it was something that they did wrong. Had he been pushy? Had he made you feel so uncomfortable that even after months of dating you didn’t want him? Or was it simply the fact that you didn’t find him attractive or arousing enough?

These thoughts swirled and tainted the most noble of intentions within Bradley. He so badly wanted you to feel the way he did about you, that it somewhat clouded his perception. Every sweet, bashful smile as you pulled away from him turned into a confirmation that there was something he was doing wrong.

Perhaps you were not a person who wanted what he wanted. He would be okay with that if that were the case, but as he pondered these possibilities in bed after a particularly nice day at the beach with you, he realized that the best way to go about it was to talk about it. 

He smiled as he reminisced on your walk, feet bare in the sand. His heart did double-time as he remembered the way your eyes sparkled, and the way you’d pulled on his hand to draw him into the water with you. Covered in sand and salt water, the two of you had spent the majority of the day in each other's arms (when you were not indulged in very serious bouts of splashing wars) before retreating to Bradley’s home. 

Which was how Bradley found himself perched on his bed after a nice shower to wash away the sand and salt, feeling content with the conclusion he had come to. The water was still running, as you were washing away the day as well, further fuelling Bradley’s thoughts. He was torn from them when you emerged, clad in a large, white, oversized silken button-up. It was rather old, and some of the buttons were missing. Your skin looked soft as it gleamed in the glow of the evening light. Looking at you, Bradley couldn’t help the soft smile that stretched across his lips as he raised his arms to signal he wanted you near. 

Mimicking his smile, you happily straddled his lap, making yourself comfortable before holding up a small container that Rooster hadn’t noticed before. 

“What’s that?” his voice was low, as if the energy of the room shouldn’t be disturbed by loud talking. Fingertips dipped into white cream, before gently ghosting across the skin of his face. 

“It’s to soothe the skin, baby,” you explained softly, massaging the cool cream onto Bradley’s warm face. He hummed in reply, letting his hands grasp your hips, running his thumb up and down over the soft silken material. His eyes fluttered shut as you carefully made sure that every surface of his skin was carefully covered, even going down to cover his throat and neck. 

“All done.” was whispered against his lips, punctured by the soft feel of your plush lips upon his. Your chest had fallen closer to his bare upper body, and the small container now found its resting place on his nightstand as your hands splayed on his pecs and shoulders. 

You deepened the kiss, your tongue curiously exploring and wetting Bradley’s lips before meeting his own tongue slowly. Bradley couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as you pressed closer to him, your tongue so languidly moving with his own, couldn’t help gripping  your hips just a little tighter at the small noises you were emitting whilst hesitantly rolling your hips against his grown hard-on. 

“Sweets…” Bradley rasped, breaking the kiss. Normally, you would look down and look bashful, but this time your lips traveled across his jaw, fluttering over his pulse point as you hummed in acknowledgement. As you reached a particularly sensitive point and nipped softly, Bradley let out a low moan, his hands moving up your waist before they skimmed back down to let them rest on the globes of your ass. Kneading and grasping he groaned again, not noticing the way you had stopped kissing his neck. 

Tensing ever so slightly, you sat up from your position, looking down as nerves fluttered restlessly in your stomach.

“Honey,” Bradley’s voice was soft “talk to me, please. Am I doing something wrong? Do I make you uncomfortable?” his fingers gently asked you to look him in the eye from their place at your chin. Blinking, a small crease formed between your brows. 

“N-no, never! I’ve never felt as safe as I do when I’m with you.” the answer came to you easy, spilling truthfully from your lips as you looked into your boyfriend’s amber eyes. 

“Why do you ask that?” 

“I can feel how tense you are sometimes when we’re like this… you always pull away from me darlin’, and I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page, okay? You can tell me anything. If I’ve done something, or if you just don’t feel like ever doing anything– or if I’m not, y’know, doing enough to turn you on–” he was rambling. He knew he was and yet he couldn’t stop; his worries and anxieties coming out in a way he didn’t want them to. He was almost thankful when you cut him off.

“Bradley, do you think I don’t want to have sex with you because you don’t turn me on enough?” if you weren’t feeling nervous butterflies in your stomach at the aspect of actually feeling ready for taking this step with Bradley, you would have laughed. 

“I don’t know… Maybe? Mostly I’ve been worried that I have made you feel unsafe with me. Or that I’ve done something to make you feel as if you don’t want that part of our relationship like that,” it was Bradley’s turn to look bashful. Saying it out loud always made you realize how bizarre some of your thoughts could sound. 

“Honey…” you smiled, leaning into your boyfriend again “I– I just… you know I told you how I haven’t done much?” Bradley nodded. 

“Of course. I am in no way trying to rush you - I totally understand you may have had other experiences with sex before that makes this uncomfortable and–”

“No, Bradley.” you groaned “you don’t understand–” sighing, you paused for a moment. Maybe it would be better to spell it out. “well… honestly, I’ve never really had sex before–” 

Silence hung between two lovers, Bradley’s brows raising slightly in surprise, a feeling of deep guilt settling uncomfortably in his chest. 

“Honey… I am so sorry. I never meant– I mean, I figured you must have, you’re so out of this world beautiful…” Bradley looked at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. “I’m sorry, my darling, I just wanted to know if there was something I had done - I will wait for as long as you need,” he straightened up to place his lips upon yours in a soft kiss. 

Shaking your head, you broke the kiss, smiling softly at him. 

“And– I was kinda hoping you would teach me,” you finished your interrupted sentence, letting your fingers sneak into the hair at the nape of Bradley’s neck, tugging and twirling strands of hair there to ease your nerves. Again, Bradley looked at you with such adoration and love that it nearly took your breath away. His hands were back to soothingly rubbing your sides and hips, the way he held you making you feel precious and secure. 

“Darling…” his voice was low but riddled with unspoken emotions, one of his hands moving to cradle your cheek “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want okay. I’m not going anywhere.” his assurance meant the world to you, but you’d felt ready for some time now. 

Mulling it over as you first noticed that when the two of you had ended up entangled in bed, or on the sofa, it didn’t make you feel as panicked as it had in the beginning. It felt exhilarating now. It felt like something you wanted. Something you desperately needed with Bradley. 

“I really want to.” your voice was firm in its choice, and Bradley sat up more from his position reclined against the headrest to be able to place his lips all over your throat. 

“I really want you…” Bradley murmured against your skin as his lips skimmed over the parts he knew had you the most breathless. It drew the tiniest of gasps, followed by a high pitched whimper from you the way he spoke so huskily, so close to your ear, his warm breath momentarily dizzying you. 

“Bradley…” you mewled softly “Please!” Bradley’s head was spinning from the sheer thought of loving you like this, but hearing your sweet plea made his breath hitch in his throat, his hard-on jolting slightly in his boxers at the words. Perhaps he should feel some type of embarrassment over that reaction, but he couldn’t find it in him to do so. Not when you were perched on his lap, clad in a loose fitting silken shirt, looking like the divines themselves. 

“You say stop and we do, okay?” Bradley searched your eyes, and you nodded, tucking your bottom lip between teeth as anticipation swirled through you. “Gotta hear you say it, honey,” Rooster smirked, reaching up to gently let his thumb draw out your bottom lip from between your teeth. That single act had your breath hitching as he let his thumb trace your lip. 

“I say stop and we stop.” you confirmed and Bradley smiled up at you 

“Good girl.” 

Blinking slowly, you took in the two soft spoken words that had drawn out the most sinful sound from your lips. “Oh, God,” you whispered softly, face heating up in embarrassment. Bradley gently shushed you, before letting his hand inch up your ribcage, his thumbs gracing the underside of your breasts. 

“It’s okay, little dove. It’s normal to react this way, alright? Nothing to be embarrassed about.” his voice was so soft, so soothing, that it made you keen even more, needing him closer to you. 

“You have no idea how much it turns me on to see you react to me like this…” Bradley wanted you to know that there was nothing shameful in the way you were reacting, and he desperately needed you to understand he never wanted you to suppress any sounds or feelings that might arise between the two of you. He wanted to see it all, hear it all, experience you and your love in its purest form. 

His hands wandered ever so slightly further up, gently letting his palm encompass the swell of your breasts in his hands, eyes flitting up to yours to see your reaction to the advancement. Letting out a stuttered breath, you let your head tip back at the sensation of his hands warming the silk against your skin.

As Rooster gently kneaded and pressed against your flesh, another breathy moan spilled from your parted lips. As he let his fingers gently pinch at your pebbled nipple, you cried out, suddenly feeling the need to move. You rocked hesitantly in Bradley’s lap, and another relieved whine left your lips as his hard-on rubbed against your damp underwear. 

“Fuck, honey… you’re so beautiful,” Bradley grunted out, trying to hold himself back and not grip your hips and grind you harder down on to him. He truly did believe you had never looked as beautiful as you were now, breath labored, skin glowing in the light that managed to flitter into the room, gently rocking against his lap. He whispered praises against your sternum as his hands slowly kneaded your sensitive flesh, his hot breath fanning over the exposed skin as the shoulder of your night shirt slid down your arm to reveal your breasts. 

Bradley took his time kissing and loving your chest, his large hands working up and down your sides, squeezing at your breasts before letting his tongue flutter over hardened nipples, teasing you as you let out soft, high pitched noises. Your brows were furrowed together, eyelids fluttered closed as you moved your hips down on him, panting slightly from the pleasure of his hard cock brushing your clothed clit every so often. 

“So pretty…” Bradley murmured before he sucked one nipple into his mouth, groaning at the feel of his lips wrapped around your flesh, relishing in the cry it drew from you, reeling at your body reacting by collapsing closer to him, a hand flying to grasp and tug at his hair. You were pulling him closer, and your movement was starting to become a little frazzled as you were overcome by the pleasure Bradley was giving you. 

“Brad–” you were gasping, almost clawing at the back of his head, not sure if you wanted to push him closer to your chest or tug him away. Squirming in your boyfriends’ lap you cried out again, whimpering softly over and over again as you felt his lips release the nipple he had been sucking on, moving to give the other some much needed attention. The cool air against your saliva slick skin had you mewling again. It was all so much, too much, it felt too good, it was dizzying and overwhelming, and Bradley’s hands were touching parts of you you didn’t know were sensitive and–

“Stop!” it was gasped, breathlessly as your eyes shot open, chest heaving before looking down at your boyfriends worried face. 

“Too much?” Bradley cooed, reaching up to let his fingertips grace your cheek. Nodding shyly, you leaned into his touch, face heating at the notion that you needed a break. 

“It– it was too good, I-I couldn’t…” you trailed off, not entirely sure why you had asked him to stop. There had been a pressure building and sparking in you, and it frightened you. The pleasure you felt when the two of you made out, when he touched you, it was tame in comparison. No one else had ever made that… pressure happen before. 

Bradley shushed you softly, licking his lips and smiling softly up at you “S’okay, darling… we’re not in a rush, are we? And if you decide that’s enough for tonight, then that’s alright too.” he assured you, thumbs rubbing against your waist. He couldn’t help that his eyes flickered momentarily to the glistening skin around your breasts, an unfamiliar feeling swirling deep in the pit of his chest at the sight of his saliva marking your skin. It almost made him groan with pleasure, seeing himself on you in any capacity. 

“No, I… I really want you. I truly feel ready, because I’ve been thinking of loving you like this for so long now…” you trailed off, again looking down at where your body sat on top of his, stomach flipping a little as you took in the sun kissed skin of his abs… and that dusting of hair that disappeared beneath his boxers. “I just feel a little nervous” you admitted in a whisper, not being able to help the fluttering nerves within your stomach.

“Don’t be nervous… I’ll guide you through it, sweet girl,” Bradley murmured, nudging his nose against yours before letting his lips slowly move with yours, taking his time to let his tongue taste yours, until your arms were once again wrapped around his neck. 

“That’s it… good girl, keep going,” Bradley whispered against your lips as you again hesitantly rolled your hips against him. Soft mewls left you at his words, and Bradley couldn’t help but smiling into the kiss, filing away every reaction to his actions for later. 

“Does that feel good?” he hummed as he gently gripped your hips, helping you find the right angle to let his cock catch at your entrance before sliding up to your clit. The silk of your panties was dark with your slick, and Bradley could soon feel it covering his own underwear too. 

“Yes,” you breathed out, letting your forehead press against his “it– feels funny,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as that pressure started to come back, even stronger now. Bradley hummed low in his throat, one hand making its way between your bodies to put more pressure where you needed it. 

“Bradley!” you gasped, body jolting slightly as his leaking cock head pressed harder against your sensitive clit. “It’s okay, baby… you’re alright, I’ve got you,” Bradley whispered as he kissed right below your ear, not stopping the slow but steady rocking of your hips. 

“I feel like I’m gonna– gonna–” your trembling voice was interrupted by your small gasps and soft moans, again taking your plush bottom lip between your teeth as the sensation grew stronger. 

“You’re doing so good, honey– don’t stop; just let go for me, baby,” it was as if you needed Bradley’s soft guidance and assurance, because as soon as he told you to, you could feel that pressure spiking, before it snapped and shot through your entire body. The pleasure coursed through your veins as you came with a loud cry, followed by small whimpers of Bradley’s name, burrowing your face in his neck as you whined softly and rolled your hips a couple of more times. 

“There you go… such a good girl… are you alright, doll?” he’s murmuring softly and sweetly against your neck, your pulse thudding hard and fast against his warm lips. Lips that have curved slightly upwards as you cling onto him, fingers gripping at his slightly flexed biceps. You nod against his shoulder, placing a languid chaste kiss to his exposed skin. 

“I’m– I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before” heat again spread across your face, and Bradley couldn’t help the way his chest filled with pride, and an unfamiliar emotion that stirred somewhere close to his abdomen. “Did so good, honey. Looked real beautiful for me,” Bradley smiled, gently holding your hair back from your face before pecking your lips. His hands roamed down your body, until his fingers played with the hem of your underwear. Snapping the elastic slightly, making you gasp, he chuckled softly.

“Can I take these off?” nodding, you felt anticipation roll inside you in stormy waves as the two of you moved your bodies so Bradley could take your underwear off. Bradley’s hands kneaded softly at your thighs as you settled back on his lap, his amber eyes searching your worried face. Licking your lips, you took in Bradley’s completely naked form. Sure, you’d seen naked men before, but nothing compared to the golden tan of Bradley’s skin - the ripple of his abs, the dusting of hair that traveled from below his navel to his pubic bone and– oh god. 

You of all people was aware of Bradley’s size. He was tall, muscular, slightly burly, and his strong embrace always made you feel safe - whether he was lifting you and dropping you into the ocean earlier today, or if he made a point of helping you reach something high up (even if you didn’t always need the help) - but you hadn’t really used your imagination to be able to conjure this. Resting, hard as a rock, against his stomach, you wondered silently how on earth he would fit in you. 

“Honey,” Bradley tried to keep from chuckling, smirking, or sounding too smug when he spoke “it’s alright. We’ll go as slow as needed, love. I’ve got you.” and you trusted your boyfriend, you truly did, but still - how? 

As a distraction, Bradley’s ever working hands had snuck upwards, the pads of his fingers now caressing your sensitive clit, drawing a soft mewl from your parted lips. “That’s it, relax,” he murmured in encouragement as his fingers gently rubbed at your core, letting his middle finger slip further and further into your heat. 

“Oh!” pitching forward, you rested your forehead against your boyfriend’s broad shoulder, moaning involuntarily at the feeling of Bradley pumping his finger in and out slowly, stretching and preparing you. It felt good, that one finger didn’t yet feel uncomfortable. It was when he added a second one that you whined a little and squirmed against him. His voice soothed you, and as he found a spot within you that had you gasping every time his fingers graced it, you found your hips slowly starting to rock against his rhythm to seek out more of the feeling.

“Bradley…” his name tumbled from your lips in a needy gasp as his lips attached themselves to the delicate skin of your neck. You could feel his hot, wet tongue glide over the skin, his teeth nipping slightly before letting his lips close over the area to gently mark your neck. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” his reply was murmured against your skin, his mustache scratching lightly above your pulse point. “Think I want–” you paused “think I want you now…” it was strange how the words rolled off your tongue, embarrassment filling you up slightly at the admission, even with Bradley’s fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. The soft groan that reverberated from your boyfriend's chest made you squeak slightly in surprise, your walls clenching around his fingers as the sound spurred on your arousal. 

“Alright,” Bradley withdrew from the crook of your neck, where he’d had his face nuzzled, to look you in the eyes, giving you a soft smile as his fingers too withdrew from within you. 

“Do you have any condoms, sweets?” he murmured, tilting his head upwards slightly to place a chaste kiss to your warm cheek. Shaking your head no, you placed a soft kiss to his warm lips, admitting to him that you had been on birth control for some years now. You momentarily worried he might ask why you’d bother with contraceptives if you were a virgin. You’d rather not go into detail about how it can regulate your cycle. He just smiled, eagerly chasing your lips for another kiss as his hands stroked up and down your waist - where your silken shirt had created a halo around your midsection. 

“Tell me again what we’d do if you said a certain word?” Bradley looked into your eyes, his brown ones calm and filled with a serenity you could easily get lost in, as his large hand gently held your chin. Licking your lips, you managed a small smile down at your lover as you sat straddled across his lap, his hard cock leaking precum all over that faint line of hair that drove you absolutely insane with want.

“I say stop and we stop.” 

“Good girl,” at your slight shiver at the deep timbre of his voice, your boyfriend couldn’t keep his smirk at bay, loving how well you responded to his praise. 

Large hands gripped your hips as you rose slightly to your knees, your own hands which had been alternating between gripping Roosters biceps, clinging onto his shoulders, or being wrapped around his neck, now fluttered hesitantly down his chest, over his abdominals and down to that tantalizing little trail… The sound Bradley let out sounded relieved yet also a little strained as you hesitantly let your fingertips grace the underside of his hard cock, following along the prominent vein that ran along it. 

“Should I—” you licked your lips, gaze flickering up momentarily to his “should I touch you, before we..?” Bradley smiled softly and shook his head no “I am embarrassingly close to coming just from seeing you like this honey… it’s alright,” a soft smile spread on your lips as you still let your fingers curiously feel around your boyfriends hard shaft, feeling the ridges and veins, surprised at the silky feel of the warm skin. Humming softly you settled on letting your hands rest upon his shoulders again as he again gripped your hips to guide you into a position he deemed appropriate. 

Bradley’s head was spinning as he positioned his cock against your entrance, gently dragging his swollen head between your slick folds, having to take shallow breaths as he heard your whimpers and mewls. He repeated this motion over and over, ghosting over your hole, alternating between stimulating your clit and the sensitive skin around your heat. Soon enough you were rutting against the underside of his cock, making him slicked with your arousal. 

“Fuck, you feel so good!” Bradley groaned as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, desperately trying to get more of him. “Bradley! Please, please,” you whined, biting down slightly on his skin, drawing a deep moan from his parted lips. He let the very tip of his cock slowly enter you before he withdrew again, sliding his cock up towards your clit again. You had gasped and moaned at the short sensation, and Bradley could tell you thought you could take all of him with the way you were bucking your hips, trying to sink down on him.

“Slow down, baby… I’ll get you there, okay? Can’t take all of me yet…” he murmured against your temple, letting his lips linger there for a moment before he again lowered you slightly onto his weeping cock, the very tip breaching your core. 

You were panting now, as Bradley stilled your hips on him, this time not withdrawing as he let himself dip slightly deeper into you. Eyes widening, you whined at the sharp sting of his girth stretching you. 

“Shh, honey, you’re alright, I’ve got you,” his calm voice grounded you and you nodded against his shoulder. Bradley had done his best to prepare you, and you were thoroughly wet for him - but still, as he gently lowered you deeper onto him, tears sprang from your eyes at the sharp sting of being stretched by him. 

“I’m sorry, love.” Bradley furrowed his brows as he gently guided you to look at him, wiping at the tears that had leaked from your lashes. “Do you want to stop?” he murmured, large palm soothingly stroking up and down your spine. 

Even though the sharp sting wasn’t exactly comfortable, the feeling of his warmth, and the feeling of being so full still made your insides vibrate with feelings of love and arousal - a feeling that felt rather paradoxical in relation to the sharp stings you felt whenever you moved. Ultimately you spoke a tiny no, leaning into Bradley, seeking his solace and his safe embrace. Whenever you felt vulnerable, or were hurting, you sought out his safety. 

“Being so brave, little dove… being my good girl,” Bradley cooed, letting his strong arm wrap around you, his other slowly moving downwards, gently letting the pad of his finger rest against your clit as he lowered you a few more inches, until finally you sat flush against him. Biting your lip, your fingertips dug into the skin of Roosters biceps hard as he shushed you and praised you even more, making your stomach flip and your heart stutter in your chest. You had no idea mere words could ignite such a fire within you. 

Speaking softly to you, whispering praise and words of love into your ear, Bradley slowly let his fingertips grace over your back, down your arms, over your thighs, your breasts.. as his thumb gently swiped over your nipple, you let out a needy moan. Gently pinching, he drew out another whimper from you, and your breathing seemed to pick up again as he rolled it between his fingers, his palm massaging and kneading your flesh. 

“S’that feel good, honey?” he smiled as you looked him in the eyes, biting your lip and nodding as you experimentally rolled your hips - scrunching your face up, you whined softly at the feeling of discomfort, which was soothed by Bradley’s quick, distracting hands. 

Letting your lips crash against his, Bradley groaned as he used both hands to knead and pinch at your tits and nipples as you rocked slowly on his cock. Gasping and whimpering, you tried lifting your hips and sinking down again, finding that if you did it ever so slightly, it didn’t sting as much and it actually felt good when the tip of his cock hit that little spot inside you. 

“Bradley!” you whimpered against his lips, his name slightly muffled. After the initial pain, you were reeling from the realization that your boyfriend’s cock was buried in your pussy, and he was letting you ride him slowly. Moaning, you leaned slightly back, taking in the sight before you. In your frenzy, you had messed up his hair, and his eyes were glossy with lust, lips slightly swollen. The setting sun was making his tan skin glow, and the freckles that had formed on his shoulders made him look all the more incredible to you. 

“Fuck, god, you’re so fuckin’ tight… feel fucking incredible, Jesus, baby… I love you,” Bradley’s eyes were rolling upwards as you rode him a little faster, his cock pulsing with every slight movement you made. 

“I love you,” you whispered, the words ghosting over his skin. Bradley let his hands wander from your tits down to the globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading your asscheeks as you moved up and down on his cock. 

“Can I take over a little, baby?” he murmured into your ear, licking your lips, you nodded quickly, feeling Bradley’s grip on your ass tighten as he lifted and grinded you down against him. A gasp was quickly followed by a loud moan as he angled your hips ever so slightly, making your clit catch on his pubic bone. He sped up slightly, guiding your hips so they rolled and bounced slightly in time with his small thrusts, the head of his cock brushing that spot again and again, making you whimper and keen over and over. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bradley grunted and groaned as he fucked you onto his leaking cock. He was so fucking close, you were gripping and clenching so hard around him, and he was sure he was going to blow his load soon. “Baby you feel so fucking good.. god, this tight little pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock, wasn’t it? Was made to be fucked by me,” Bradley grunted as he babbled, that feeling he felt earlier exploding in his chest at your needy mewls. 

Growling, he took your loud moans as his go ahead to go just a little faster, fuck you just a little deeper. His one forearm wrapped around the curve of your ass as the other snuck up between your shoulder-blades, where he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck. A loud cry spilled from your lips as your eyes fluttered close, your body instantly relaxing and going almost limp in his hold as you moaned repeatedly. Growling, Bradley bucked his hips to fuck into you instead of lowering you down on him, and your needy cries made him almost black out with pleasure. 

Soon, he heard you gasping, moaning and crying his name over and over in pleasure. “That’s it honey, tell me who’s making you feel good.. who’s fucking this tight little pussy of yours so good,” his words made your eyes roll back into your head, and with a cry of his name you came for the second time, your slick creating a creamy ring around the base of his cock as he fucked you through the first orgasm you’d ever experienced with someone inside you. 

Whimpering and mewling, the waves of pleasure didn’t stop coming, it just kept going as Bradley’s cock pumped fast and deep into your wet cunt. Your bedroom was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, a wet sound that you found rather arousing, and your labored breaths and moans. 

“Babe, god I’m so close,” Bradley moaned, holding you tighter to his chest as he gasped, his cock and balls pulsing with the need to release. “Should I pull out?” he wasn’t all together sure he could. “No!” you whined, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. You’d never felt like this before. Your chest was swirling with the need to keep him close, keep him inside of you, you never wanted him to leave.

“Need you, Brad, need you!” you could barely form a full sentence, your words sounding more like whimpery babbles. At your pleas, Bradley grunted and groaned before he swore loudly, his hips bucking before his cock twitched and his release spurted deep within you. 

Feeling his warm seed spilling in you, your eyes rolled back slightly again as you moaned. Bradley’s whole body was shuddering as he ground you down against him, his balls tightening again and again as he released ropes upon ropes of his cum deep in your pussy. 

Sweaty bodies tangled together as you slumped forward against his heaving chest, your own breath labored and unsteady. Nuzzling into his pecs, you could hear and feel the way his heart beat hard inside his chest. “Love you,” you murmured, kissing at his sternum. Rooster’s large hand caressed the back of your head as you both came down from your highs. 

“Might hurt a little when I pull out…” he murmured against the top of your head, and you let out a dissatisfied whine whilst pouting. 

“Are you okay, honey?” he continued, and you smiled and nodded, feeling perfectly content as you laid in the safe arms of your lover, having just given him all of your love, and receiving all of him and his love back. 

AHHHHH fuck this one took forever to finish, and i'm not entirely happy with the ending - but i hope someone might enjoy it still<3 please let me know what you think! i'm always open for constructive crit <3

special thanks to coley and em for helping me through my writers block and cheering me on<3

[picopepin]

@mettatonmay 2024 Day 25 - AU

Late, but wedding was more important!

I personally believe that those who participate unflinching and unafraid are a fandoms true heartbeat. We've had AUs before these!! But are just some current contemporaries, I would love to draw them all if I could haha. Hope yall dont mind the tags! MTE198x by me Bigtop MTT by @qubelord Untitled Neo by @achillean-knight Coreton by @creativriot @nib-mettaton by @jellyfishin MTT Magazine by @deadlysquidkid K. Mettaton by @paintedhen Droid-Ex by @dracraz

[les4elliewilliams]

With all my heart.

¡! daily click・palestine masterpost・do not buy any game from naughty dog, neil druckmann is a zionist・more daily clicks. ¡!

cw/wc: 10.9k (ik wtf) not proofread ; smut, fingering both r/e!receiving, oral (r!receiving), swearing, fluff, reader has a heart condition. jackson ellie x fem reader (💘)

a/n: I'm not really sure how I feel about this, lol (especially the smut part). I tried to do a lot of research about this type of heart issue to make it as accurate as possible, so if it's not, I'm sorry, I tried. ib one of those romantic movies where one of the characters is sick and has some rare condition (except that no one dies.)

also can we start romanticizing unconditional love and healthy relationships?

You knew you had won the lottery the moment you accidentally bumped into her in the hospital.

Your life has been full of challenges right from the beginning. You were born with a condition that affected your heartbeats, making it difficult for your heart to function normally. So you had to rely on a pacemaker to regulate your heartbeat. This condition has significantly impacted your life, making it hard for you to engage in activities that require physical exertion.

Long QT Syndrome, or LQTS, is a rare genetic condition that can mess up your heart's electrical system. It can cause your heartbeats to go wild, making you faint, have seizures, or even go into sudden cardiac arrest. To keep yourself safe, you needed to take your meds, live a certain way, and have a pacemaker — which you had implanted.

Living a normal life had always been tough for you, and it wasn't only the syndrome's physical symptoms that held you back, but also your parents' protectiveness. They worried a lot about your health, maybe a bit too much, leaving you with very little freedom to do anything. Even simple things like going to a party or hanging out with friends like a regular teenager seemed like a luxury you could never have. Although you understood that your parents were only trying to protect you, their overprotectiveness always made you feel suffocated and cut off from the world. You always felt like an alien who had just been dropped off on Earth; you knew nothing about anything. You've always had to rely on the stories and experiences of people around you, like your friends, to help you figure things out and feel like you had lived a little.

You have been homeschooled ever since you were a little kid. You didn't have many opportunities to participate in social activities and make friends. However, you did manage to meet two people who have remained your only friends to this day. You met them in the park when you were a kid, and to your luck, they stuck around. You often wonder if they stayed with you out of pity or because they genuinely liked spending time with you, but you were glad regardless; it was good to have someone to hang out with.

The memory of the day you met Ellie is still as vivid in your mind as it was when it happened. You had just finished your routine checkup at the hospital and were feeling a bit peckish. You made your way to the vending machine to grab a snack, suddenly feeling a wave of dizziness sweep over you. You hoped a quick snack would help, but fate seemed to have other plans in store for you that day. As you selected your snack, you watched in frustration as it got stuck in the vending machine. You tried everything you could to retrieve it, but it refused to budge. Just as you were about to give up, she appeared.

"Can I hel-" she started, but you were already turning around to leave, and just as you turned around to leave, you accidentally collided with her, causing your chest to hit hers. The impact triggered your pacemaker, causing it to beep loudly and incessantly. "Shit — I'm so sorry" she said as she gently grabbed your arm to steady you. "Oh my god, I'm sorry" you said simultaneously. The sound reverberated through the hospital walls, and your face heated up with embarrassment. You had never experienced anything like this before, not even when you bumped into walls at home.

The auburnette looked at you puzzled and asked, "Why're you beeping? Are you okay?" Worried green eyes scanning you, she was clearly taken aback by the unexpected beeping sound and she couldn't understand where it was coming from. You couldn't help but feel drawn to her despite the awkward introduction, she was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.

Little did you know that this chance encounter would lead to a series of life-changing events.

You remember sitting in the seating area of the hospital, munching on a snack that she had generously gotten for you, you couldn't help but feel grateful for this girl's kindness. She was so funny and kind, cracking dumb puns every now and then. You admired how perfect and flawless she looked and to this day, she still tells you how mesmerized she was by you when she saw you for the first time. You both chatted away about everything and nothing, you noticed that she had a backpack with her. Being the curious person you are, you couldn't resist the urge to ask her what she was studying. She seemed delighted by your interest and started talking passionately about her field of study — art. The more she talked, the more intrigued you were. When your conversation came to an end, she mustered up the courage to ask for your number, a clear indication that she wanted to see you again; it took you by surprise but you happily obliged. Something about you captivated her attention, although you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

You never thought that you would have the chance to become friends with her, let alone her best friend. But somehow, again, fate had other plans for you. Your friendship with her started slowly but surely. She always asked you to hang out, and you couldn't help but say yes. She was so fun to be around, and it was impossible not to enjoy her company. She would come to your place and take you on small adventures, always promising to show you something new and exciting. This was especially important to you, as you had shared that your teenage years were quite dull and you didn't venture out of your house much. She always respected your limits, knowing that you had to be cautious with your heart condition. When she started staying at your place, you were surprised at how well she fit in with your family and friends. Your parents loved her and your friends thought she was great too. She was always taking care of you without being overbearing or suffocating. Her kindness and thoughtfulness made you feel valued and appreciated, and you couldn't help but fall for her. How could you not after all? She was perfect.

You shared every aspect of your life with her, and she reciprocated. You both had a shared love for reading, although she preferred a completely different genre from yours. She forced you to read her favorite Savage Starlight comics, and even though they weren't your cup of tea, you still enjoyed spending time with her while reading them, mostly because of how cute she sounded when she read every line out loud, effortlessly switching tones to match the different characters' voices and even adding sound effects to accentuate the narrative. She would often stay the night at your place and binge-read them with you. She loved to talk about her passions for space, dinosaurs, science, and art. She even showed you her drawings and journal, claiming she had never shown them to anyone. She even made a few drawings for you; it was adorable and impressive how she managed to capture every little detail of your face and put it on a piece of paper, she was a talented one. And, of course, you did the same with her — sharing your favorite comics/books with her, even convincing her to watch movies that she always claimed she hated. After watching them with you, she realized they weren't so bad after all. Not that she actually paid attention to the movie, her eyes solely focused on you.

Soon enough she was introducing you to her closest friends. She was convinced that you would love them, and she was totally right. One of her friends, Dina, was so much fun to be around, always full of energy and cracking jokes, she had a smile that could light up the whole room. Jesse, Dina's boyfriend, was just as funny as her, but he was a bit more serious and responsible than the rest of them. He always looked out for Dina and Ellie, but they never listened to him, which resulted in some pretty hilarious situations. The group had a really cool dynamic, and you loved how they made you feel welcome right from the start.

Your first kiss was a moment you could never forget, etched deeply into your memory. You both were deeply in love with each other, and it was evident in the way you looked at each other. Your glances filled with unspoken feelings and palpable tension that drove you crazy, hoping that you weren't the only one feeling that way. And then the moment finally arrived. You remember it was a hot summer day, and the air in your room was stifling despite the fan pointed at your face. You had a few strands of hair that fell loose out of your messy low ponytail, and they moved with the breeze from the fan. You were both on your bed; she was sitting criss-crossed before you, music playing in the background. She was drawing you in her journal, claiming that she needed more practice, which, after years, she revealed was just an excuse to draw you and spend more time with you; you were her favorite muse and she was just a loser who couldn't help but simp for you. Her cheeks were slightly pink due to the heat (or at least you thought), and her green concentrated eyes flickered back and forth from your face to her journal. When she started drawing your lips you unconsciously licked them, causing her eyes to dart up to look at you in the eyes.

She let out a soft sigh and mumbled under her breath, "m' almost done." A faint blush crept up her cheeks, though you couldn't quite explain why. Intrigued, you leaned over to get a glimpse of her work and asked, "Yeah? can I see?" She straightened up, holding the journal close to her chest, and replied with a slight huff, "Don't move, c'mon, stay still." You raised an eyebrow in amusement and retorted, "What? I'm not even moving." She didn't respond and instead furrowed her brows, focusing intently on her piece of art. The room fell silent, except for the sound of her pencil scratching against the paper.

The silence between you and her was palpable but not uncomfortable, yet you still decided to break it with a joke. "Knock knock," you said, a small smile forming on your face. Her eyes, which had been focused on her journal, darted up to meet yours once again. A playful smile appeared on her lips as she asked, "Who's there?" in a slightly sarcastic tone, giving you an eye roll. "Kiss," you replied, wiggling your brows. "Kiss who?" she played along, her eyes still fixed on you. "Me," you smiled awkwardly.

You knew it was a terrible joke, a very corny one, but you couldn't help it. After all, you didn't have much experience in these kinds of things — the universe only knew how long it took you to muster up the courage to make a silly little joke like that one. She chuckled dryly. "God, that's really bad," she commented, and you laughed along. "I know," you lowered your head and shook it slowly before looking up at her again. Both of you were smiling at each other, the tension between you growing. "So?" you quipped, trying to sound confident. "Do you want to?" you asked, your heart beating fast. "Oh shit, you were serious?" She suddenly sounded nervous, placing her somehow worn-out journal on her thighs as she looked at you in disbelief. You could tell she was surprised, and maybe a little flustered. "I'm sosorry — I didn't mean to make it awkward. Forget it. It's just I really like you a lot, but if you don't—" you started to say, trying to diffuse the tension, but her soft lips cut off your nervous rambling before you could finish your sentence. You felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body as you kissed her back, your hands reaching up to cup her face. It was a moment you would never forget.

After your first kiss, you and Ellie went on a few dates together. It was during one of these dates that she took you to the park and asked you to be her girlfriend. The setting was perfect — you were having a lovely picnic date, the weather was just right, and a gentle breeze was blowing, caressing your skin and making it erupt in goosebumps as you sat close to the pond next to Ellie, throwing frozen peas to the ducks, their quacking filling the air with lively energy. The water was still and calm, the sun was shining, and the greenery around you was lush and vibrant. You felt a sense of warmth and happiness.

The auburnette sat beside you, leaning back as you fed the ducks in the pond. She wore a tender smile on her face, watching you with a gentle gaze. "I thought they only ever ate bread," she commented, breaking the peaceful silence between the two of you. You turned to her, your eyebrows raised in surprise. "If all they eat is bread, how will they survive in the wild without people tossing them bread all the time?" You replied with a hint of sarcasm. She scoffed and playfully nudged you. "Alright, smartass," she said, you nudged her back, both of you giggling like children. "I'm surprised a know-it-all nerd like you didn't know that," you teased her. "Nerd, huh? you actually like this nerd" she retorted teasingly, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she pointed at herself. "Do I, now?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. You couldn't take back your words after all, you did like her and you made sure to tell her, let's say... pretty often.

"Oh yeah, you do," she chuckled, nodding her head playfully. The two of you fell back into a comfortable silence, watching the ducks swim around in the pond. Suddenly, she turned to you, her expression serious. "Listen, I was thinking...you know how we're going out on dates and all," she started, her voice hesitant. Your head snapped to look at her; your heart was beating like crazy, not that it usually wasn't due to your syndrome, but it felt crazier than usual. You felt your palms start to sweat, and you grew more nervous by the second. "Yeah?" you prompted her, waiting for her to continue. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...we already act like a couple, so...will you be my girlfriend?" she finally gathered the courage to ask, her eyes locked on yours.

She seemed a bit tense, although you couldn't understand why. After all, you had told her multiple times before how much you liked her, and the two of you had been acting like a couple for quite some time now. You gave her a cheeky smile "Of course I want to," you said confidently, jumping right into her lap, feeling a sudden burst of excitement as you wrapped your arms around her.

Your love was pure and genuine, and it was evident from the little things you did for each other. She would leave little notes around your room or in your bag whenever you left for a second. These notes would remind you of her love for you, and you would return the gesture by hiding notes in her notebooks or in her journal. She would find them the next day during her classes, and it would brighten up her day.

"you look so pretty"

"are you a keyboard? cause you're just my type ;)"

"i love your freckles and i love you"

"hope you're having a good day :) ps. no more pickup lines im begging D:"

Your love was spontaneous and full of small handmade gifts, full of drawings from her part and origami from yours. Once in a while she'd even write and play songs for you, which had you smiling like an idiot cause how romantic was that?

She was always too caring, and she would make sure that you were feeling okay despite your heart disorder. She would accompany you to your doctor appointments and never leave your side, even though you would tell her she didn't need to be there. Unlike your parents who had always been overprotective, she was always looking out for you without being too much. Since you were the "sick" one between the two of you, she always had trouble accepting help from you, especially when she felt sick or was on her period. But you always insisted on taking care of her, making her chicken soup whenever she had a horrible cold, and ensuring that she took painkillers for her period cramps. You always made sure that she had enough pads and her favorite snacks or helped her through one of her panic attacks. Soon, she got used to it and would always be a whining mess when she was sick, hoping you would cuddle with her or baby her. She loved it more than she liked to admit.

On your anniversaries, you would surprise each other with flowers. The first time you had ever gotten her flowers (which was on your first date), she accepted them with teary eyes, saying that none of her ex-girlfriends had ever gotten her flowers or treated her like a woman; you loved the idea of being her first in something — you didn't get to be her first kiss or her first time in...that, but at least you were the first girlfriend who treated her right.

Your first time together was so special and intimate, it made you feel truly alive. The way she was so gentle and caring towards you left an indelible imprint on your heart. Her touch was like a soft breeze on a calm summer day, sending shivers down your spine, and being with her made you feel like you were safe from the rest of the world. You remember how her tender gaze made you feel like the most special and beautiful girl in the world, making your insecurities fade away. The way she held you close, with a warmth that engulfed you, made you feel comfortable in your own skin. It was your first time ever, and you confided in her about not having much experience. She reassured you that she would teach you, show you the way, and make you feel good, and good Lord, if she kept that promise.

It was a warm and peaceful afternoon, the sun was shining brightly outside, casting a warm glow into the room. You and your girlfriend were both lounging on her comfortable bed, enjoying each other's company in silence. While she was intently watching an action movie, you were lost in the pages of a captivating book. Your attentive eyes scanned each line and paragraph, immersing yourself in the story and oblivious to your surroundings. Unbeknownst to you, Ellie was growing increasingly impatient, huffing and puffing in an attempt to get your attention. Her huffs were airy at first, but as time went on, they became more forceful and pronounced, hoping to grab your attention and draw you away from your book.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to her, you turned your head gently towards her, lowering your book ever so slightly "What's wrong, Els?" you asked, concerned. "Put it down, I wanna cuddle." she responded, snatching the book out of your hand and placing it on her nightstand. You couldn't help but smile at her neediness, finding it adorable. "Fine," you sighed playfully, "Needy," you added under your breath, rolling your eyes at her. But she caught your comment, "What? Did you say somethin'?" You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction as she pulled you on top of her and wrapped her arms around you. "Oh, nothing," you innocently replied.

"Comfy? Anything hurts?" she asked in a gentle tone as she rubbed your back in a slow and soothing motion, and you instantly relaxed under her touch. You took a deep breath, the tension in your muscles slowly fading away. "I'm okay, — m'comfy" you reassured her, feeling grateful for her care and existence in general. You hugged her tightly, burying your head in her chest. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, and the steady beats of her heart were a comforting sound.

You both cuddled up in silence, movie still playing softly in the background. As she kept rubbing your back, you gently scratched her arm something that usually relaxed her. After a little while, you felt compelled to express your feelings and whispered, "I love you." Even though you couldn't see her face, you could hear the smile in her voice when she replied, "Love you more, babe." You remained comfortably nestled in her chest, head buried in her grey hoodie. When you finally lifted your head from her chest, you gazed into her beautiful green eyes, already looking at you with so much affection that made your heart skip a beat. "You mean the world to me." you confessed, her eyes softened even more, and her heart swelled with love for you. She was the perfect girlfriend, always so loving and respectful, and you couldn't ask for anyone better. Finally, she leaned in and kissed you slowly and tenderly, a soft kiss that soon turned into something passionate and full of desire. She rolled on top, pinning you down with her weight, her hands roaming all over your body. She squeezed your waist, your hands cupping her freckled face to keep her close. She sighed quietly into the kiss, her fingers tugging at your tank top, and you knew what that meant — she wanted it off. And to confirm your thoughts, it was Ellie herself. She pulled away, lips slightly swollen and pink. Despite her best efforts, it was pretty evident that she was struggling to control her breathing as she panted uncontrollably, both because of the intense making out and her arousal growing by the second. Her face was flushed; she looked at you to gauge your reaction to her silent request, to which you responded with a little nod. "I'm ready," you uttered timidly, feeling your cheeks getting warmer. "Are you sure? We don't nee-" you cut her words off, repeating yourself, "I'm ready," this time sounding a bit more firm and confident of your choice. She mimicked the slight nod you gave her a few seconds ago, loose strands of auburn hair falling out of her little bun framing her face, her eyes never leaving yours.

She leaned in once again, giving you a peck on your moist lips before kissing your jawline and down to your neck. "Can i touch you?" she asked between damp kisses she left on your neck, "I don't know, can you?" she chuckled and began to suck purple marks on your soft skin as she slipped her hand underneath your tank top, brushing against your bare stomach before reaching her target — your tits. She cupped one of your tits, feeling the fabric of your bra. Your breath hitched, your cheeks were flushed and you were grateful she was too focused on your neck to notice "Can I take it off?" she questioned between cute smooches sounds, "Yeah," you breathed out, looking back into her eyes.

When she did, you were left in nothing but your bra, the visible scar near your shoulder making you feel uncomfortable, same with the implanted pacemaker under your skin, it was visible and you hoped it didn't gross her out. You couldn't help but look away from her, suddenly feeling ashamed for something you had no control over; it was something so small yet so significant for you.

You felt her index and middle finger gently pressing under your jawline to turn your head towards her and make you look into her eyes once again. Her voice was soft, almost like a whisper, as she spoke to you in such a tender tone. "Hey," she started softly, sensing your insecurity. "You're beautiful, alright?" Hearing those words from her sent chills all over your body, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you. She continued, "We'll go slow. If something feels wrong, you let me know, okay?" Her words were reassuring, and you could feel her gentle touch on your face, holding it firmly so that you couldn't look away. You nodded in response to her words, suddenly feeling shy in front of your girlfriend.

After less than a few minutes, both of your clothes were off, thrown carelessly somewhere in the room. She still had her sport bra on and her underwear while you only had your underwear on. She trailed down, kissing all over your bare chest and breasts, and your scar, the one you were insecure about "smooch smooch..so pretty, smooch beautiful, my pretty girl" she kept murmuring under her breath causing goosebumps to rise all over your body, your nipples stood erect and hard, begging for some attention. She chuckled when she felt your sensible nub harden under her palm, "Didn't mean to make the ladies feel neglected" she joked, her voice was husky. She looked up at you with a cocky grin, and you felt your cheeks heat up even more; you chuckled awkwardly and rolled your eyes at her attempt to tease you about something you couldn't control. "Why are you always like this?" you rhetorically asked with a playful smirk, she shrugged and gave you a lopsided smile as she began to kiss your chest and attack your nipples with her mouth. "mmphh" you let out; a pathetic attempt to swallow a small moan when she sucked on one of your nipples and pinched the other. You bit down on your lip, and you could feel her smile at the small sound that came from you as she continued to work on your tits.

She trailed her hand down your abdomen, her fingers dancing around the waistband of your underwear teasingly. You couldn't deny the arousal building in your panties and at the pit of your stomach, you could feel the uncomfortable stickiness forming in your undies. So fucking wet. Leaving moist kisses all the way down to your belly button, then she stopped. She looked up at you, cheeks flushed just like yours and her eyes looking for a sign of your consent. She wanted to make sure you were completely comfortable with the way she was exploring your body, feeling it, and touching it. "I'm ready, Ellie. I promise" you repeated, your voice was soft and still timid.

"If you want me to stop, just tell me to, okay?" she told you once again and she didn't resume what she was doing until you gave her a light nod. She spread your legs, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the darker spot of your panties, you were so fucking wet. She hissed something under her breath that you couldn't quite catch. Seeing how wet she made you only served to boost her ego (as if she wasn't cocky already, the last thing this girl needed was a boost of her ego). "God, you're so wet," she couldn't help but voice her thoughts. "Thanks, Einstein, I haven't noticed," you responded with a hint of sarcasm, perhaps hoping to divert attention away from your embarrassment. She chuckled and an amused smile appeared on her dotted face, her brows jolting up. "Don't you give me the attitude" Before you could say anything back, her digits gently pressed on your still-clothed pussy, making your hips jerk away and a little moan escape your lips. Your face was on fire as you registered the lewd sound that accidentally left your lips. "That's what you get," A broad grin of pride spread across her face, and a fleeting pout that she found endearing appeared on your face "Oh, what? You mad at me, now?" she continued to taunt you, you let out a deep sigh and turned your gaze away.

"Shut up — god, why are you so annoying even in moments like this?" You covered your eyes with the sweaty palm of your hand as you spoke, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You could hear her giggle at your shyness, and it was evident that she enjoyed teasing you and playing with your emotions.

"C'mon pretty, m'just messin' with you." but she couldn't stop snickering to herself, finding your reactions quite funny. "Look at me," she commanded in a gentle tone, and you complied; you moved your hand away from your face and looked down at her, who was positioned between your spread thighs. "Want me to stop?" she questioned again, making you huff in response "Ellie. If you ask me that one more time, i swear—"

"Jesus, just making sure, no need to be so feisty about it" her fingers hooked under the waistband of your pink panties, tugging it down and freeing your dripping cunt. "Do I seriously make you this wet?" she was in disbelief, watching the string of precum that connected your pussy to your damp panties she had just pulled down.

"No, I was secretly thinking of Megan Fox, imagining her on top doing naughty things to me," you sarcastically retorted. She gasped dramatically, acting offended. Such a drama queen she was. "I consider that cheating." She played along, keeping that fake offended demeanor on. You laughed softly at her silly expression. "Okay, then, you caught me. Mentally cheating on you right now," you joked.

"I see how it is" You laughed again, and she scoffed, but she wasn't actually pissed at you.

She began kissing your inner thigh, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable. "Els..." you had this whiny hint in your voice, growing visibly impatient, "Hm?" she hummed back, switching to your other thigh, going near your pussy but never actually touching you where you wanted her to. You moved your hips close to her face, but she moved away. "What do you want?" she asked teasingly, playing dumb. Fuck, you hated her guts for doing that. "You know what i want" she clicked her tongue under the roof of her mouth "Don't think I do" you sighed, frustration slowly creeping up inside you "Please?" your voice was delicate, almost as if you were begging her to let you try her fries or asking her to buy you something. She smirked, seeing you all horny and desperate yet still struggling with your words, too shy to tell her what you wanted directly. "Please what?" she encouraged you, that obnoxious cocky grin never leaving her face; she was making fun of you at this point. But you stayed quiet. "Can't read your mind princess, you gotta use your words."

"Touch me?...please?" your voice above a whisper but she heard you, you could tell she did from the satisfied expression casting over her features. "Sorry? Louder. Couldn't hear you" that cunt. You knew she did hear you and that she just wanted to hear it again so, you tried your best to push your shyness aside and please her. "Touch me, Ell-" But she was growing way too impatient, pressing her thumb on your clit, you let out a strangled moan and your hips jerked away at the sudden contact, but she pulled you closer again. Between the two of you, the more impatient one was probably her. Poor baby couldn't even let you say it twice, she was already torturing your aching nub, drawing small circles on it.

"Feeling good?" she questioned, her eyes studying your every reaction to her touch. She knew you felt good but still needed to hear it from you. "Yeah," you breathed out, your breathing becoming more elaborated. "Remember to breathe from your nose, baby. Don't want your heart to go crazy over a little excitement — if it gets too much, tell me." she thoughtfully said. "I'll be fine" you reassured her, grabbing her other hand to squeeze it.

In no time, her lips were on your clit, gently sucking on it. She moaned on it, almost as she she was the one getting head. She could feel her pussy starting to ache, the fabric of her undies sticking to her pussy, but she couldn't help it. The way you sounded, your cute expressions and your pretty pussy were just too much to bare for her. "So fucking beautiful," she mumbled, pulling away from your pussy for a second. She slid a finger inside you and you arched your back, pushing your hips to her face to seek for more contact "This okay, yeah?" her voice was rasp. You whined in response "Ooooh look at her, think she loves me" it took quite a few to understand that she was talking to your pussy instead "God, w-why are you so…" you tried to hide the turmoil in your voice but you interrupted your own words with a slutty moan that left your throat as soon as she pushed her finger deeper into you.

"Fuuuck" you grunted, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and the grip on her hand tightening. "So responsive," she chuckled. "Ellie, shut..up," you whined, moving your hips slowly to meet her thrusts. "Can't even talk without moaning, so nasty." she snickered, acting like she was totally unaffected by your pretty moans. She was fucking soaked, humping into absolutely nothing, not that you could notice it, too focused on the way she was making you feel. The gushing sounds riverbed throughout Ellie's bedroom, and she absolutely fucking loved it. She loved seeing you like this, whimpering and writhing under her touch, so ethereal, your body was pure art to her.

"M-more" you stuttered, panting a bit, your chest raising and falling quickly "More, huh?" she echoed mockingly, sliding another finger into your little honey jar, wetness dripping down to her knuckles from how wet you were. "Gahh-uhhd" you let out incoherent words, she groaned, feeling your walls clenching around her fingers and feeling her own clenching around absolutely nothing. "Like this, yes?" she questioned in a breathy voice, her brain suddenly struggling to make out sentences that made sense, too mushy to say shit and all because of you. If you only knew how long she waited to see you like this — touch you like this. "Uh-aahh" you trapped little whimpers inside your mouth, biting hard on your bottom lip again. "Nah-uh let me hear you," she immediately scolded you, shaking her head in disapproval, but you didn't listen.

Her face lowered to your pussy, lips attaching to your throbbing clit, teasing it with the tip of her tongue, switching between circling it and sucking it gently. Your mouth hung open, arching your back and bucking your hips against her face as you let out obscene moans. She moaned against your core, a mixture of her own spit and your juices covering her chin. "Taste hmmsoo good" Your other hand reached down to move pieces of her hair out of her face. "Ellie, I-i think I'm gonna-" you trailed off, not that she needed you to tell her, she could feel you squeezing her digits as she kept hitting that soft spot inside you. "Gonna cum, baby? wanna cum for me, beautiful?" she cooed.

"God..I love you so fucking much," she hissed under her breath; you moaned loudly in return, riding her fingers "Babe, m'gonna cum" you squealed, high-pitched moans reverbing throughout her apartment. "i'm here, princess" she cooed, squeezing your hand that she had been holding this entire time, so clingy. She wanted to ensure you knew she was there for you, not only to please you. That little feeling that had been building up in your stomach snapped like a rubber band, milking her fingers as she let you ride your orgasm. Curses falling from both of your lips, your muscles spasming and squeezing her fingers — god if she loved the way your body was reacting to her.

"I know, i know, I'm here baby" she whispered sweetly when a few whiny whimpers left your mouth. When you came down from your high, she withdrew her fingers and sucked them clean, her eyes locked with yours as she did so "You're so nasty" you giggled, feeling yourself blush again "You're the one who came all over my fingers" she teased you, crawling up to kiss your lips. Your tongues tangled together and you could taste yourself on her tongue. You place your hands on her waist, pulling her body closer to yours.

"You must be tired, angel." She reluctantly pulled away, an inch away from your lips as she spoke. "Want me to leave you all wet and needy?" you inquired in disbelief, lifting your brows up at her reluctance. Her eyes silently begging you to touch her, but she still preferred to put your health over her needs. That's how caring and loving she was. "I'm just saying you don't need to push yourself if you feel tired," she repeated.

"Oh, Ellie…" you sighed, pulling her underwear down and taking her by surprise. She seemed to be internally struggling to find the right thing to say, but you preceded her, "Think I can't handle a little fun?" you purred, growing bolder in your actions. You cupped her cunt, feeling all her sweet juices cover your hand; she was so fucking soaked, it was almost unbelievable. "Only if you're sure," she answered, her breath hitching in her throat as she gulped thickly, already trying hard to suppress her cute little moans. "I'm sure you want this," you teased her, the corner of your lips curling up in a smile, almost as if to make fun of her; it was your turn now.

"I do, you know I do," she replied. It was so entertaining to watch her keep her breathing steady. You ran your index and middle finger through her glistening folds and began to tease her puffy clit, rubbing it slowly, almost painfully. "Fuck" she grunted, humping the palm of your hand, desperate to find relief; you hummed back. "Am I doing okay?" you asked innocently; despite your inexperience, you could tell she loved it, and you high-fived yourself for the little mental notes you took while she was touching you just a moment ago. She grabbed your wrist, guiding your fingers to her entrance. "Finger me," she commanded with a raspy voice.

She let out a small gasp when you thrusted into her slowly. "Like this?" you could feel her walls clenching around your inexperienced fingers, "Uh-huh," she bobbed her head, positioning your hand just how she wanted it, guiding you as she rode your fingers. "Fuck, you're so messy — so wet for me," you muttered under your breath, pulling her closer to you; she was supporting her weight on her wobbly knees as she rode your fingers, burying her head into the crook of your neck. Your other hand rested on her hips, holding her in place and not allowing her to move as you kept slamming your fingers into her. The pleasure sounds she let out right into your ear only served to make you wetter and hornier than you already were — if that was even possible. It was almost like your inexperience melted away, with the sole intent of pleasing her. Immaculate sounds left her throat as she chased her orgasm on your fingers, and you couldn't help but groan pitifully after her. Your pussy already yearning for her again, struggling to hold onto the last shreds of sanity. "Just like that." Her voice was weak and breathy, it was fucking music to your ears, making you feel all types of things inside your tummy, butterflies perhaps? She couldn't even speak properly, struggling to suppress her slutty whimpers. Muttering filthy curses under her breath as you picked up the pace, hitting that spongy spot over and over; you could feel her whole body tremble and squirm in your hands. What made it better was knowing that you were causing it.

"You feel so good, El," you whispered in her ear, kissing all the cute little freckles spattered on her bare shoulder and collarbone "'m gonna cum" she gasped, her whimpers becoming more frequent and louder. Who knew she'd become a whiny mess when close to her orgasm, but for some reason, you found it adorable — like her life depended entirely on your fingers, cute wispy brows furrowed together in concentration. "Gonna cum on my fingers, pretty?" you purred. "Please…" she sounded so fucking needy it was almost ridiculous, but you slowed down instead, earning a groan from her part "Nonono, don't stop, pleaseplease," Her words were rushed, sounding like a kid who had just lost the most precious possession. "What is it that you said? Words, right? — you gonna be a good girl and ask or you just gonna cum like that?" for some reason, the idea of playing with her in such a vulnerable state turned you on. You wanted to see how far you could push her. She let out a shaky breath. "Can't believe you're doing this." She slowly shook her head in disbelief. Your digits pressed on the spot that almost made her squirt, and she squirmed. "Words." You spoke with a firmer tone, but you still had a playful, teasing smirk on your lips. "Swear to fucking god— next time, I won't go so easy on you," uttering a threatening remark followed by an imperceptible scoff. "I never asked you to go easy on me." Your pace slowed down even more, and she frowned at you.

"Can I cum? on your fingers? please." her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her eyes were wide and glossy, her pupils dilated with desperation. "Such a goood girl El, such a good girl…cum for me" but all she could do was crash her lips against yours, leaving you no choice but swallow all her little noises. Her thighs trembled with each thrust, her legs parting slightly to allow better access as your fingers kept thrusting in and out of her wetness harder and faster, causing her to moan into your mouth.

When she came down from her high she collapsed against you, your bodies glistening with sweat, still breathing unevenly. The first thing she said when her breathing went back to normal was "I think I'm gonna marry you," before dissolving into a fit of giggles. You couldn't help but chuckle along with her. "I'm flattered. I guess you liked it then?" you responded, wrapping your arms around her. She snuggled into your chest, a contented smile on her face. "If I liked it?" she repeated, incredulous. You laughed softly, "Well, did you?"

"You were lying when you said it was your first time, weren't you?" she asked teasingly, furrowing her eyebrows at you and looking at you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "I take that as a compliment," you smirked, not giving her a straight answer, her eyes carefully studied your features, analyzing every crease and contour, searching for any sign of deception "No, seriously. Were you a virgin?" she asked again, still in disbelief "I guess you'll never know," you said, teasing her further. "Come on. I'm your girlfriend. I'm supposed to know," she said, acting dramatic and waving her hands in the air. "Are you?" you asked teasingly, and she gasped in mock offense. "Excuse you? Am I not your girlfriend?" she asked, pretending to be hurt. You couldn't help but giggle. "I meant...are you supposed to know?" you teased her curiosity. "Pffttt whatever," she said, pretending to be offended and scooting away from you. You continued laughing at her antics. "Babe, where are you going?" you asked, still chuckling as you reached for her tattooed forearm and pulled her back towards you. "Girlfriends tell each other everything," she pouted playfully. "Right. Let's watch Jurassic Park and cuddle," you suggested, grabbing the remote to put the movie on.

You shared a bond that was unbreakable, and every experience you had together only brought you closer as if there was an invisible red string that seemed to connect the two of you, always pulling you closer and closer with each passing day. Your love for each other was like a never-ending flame that grew brighter with time. She never really stopped surprising you with little thoughtful gifts, and she even drew sketches of you when you weren't looking, and you both looked forward to creating new adventures together. She was always this huge simp for you, your number one supporter and fan.

After completing university, she asked you to move into her small but cozy apartment, which was basically a reflection of her personality. The walls were adorned with paintings she had made, stacks of comic books on her shelves, action figures, and her favorite movies and games collection. It was a delightful mishmash of all the things she loved. And slowly, your belongings started to mix in with hers. Her lonely toothbrush now had a companion, and her sneakers left by the door had an extra pair of shoes right next to them — your shoes. The dirty laundry was now a mix of colorful pink clothes and pastel colors, while hers were mostly grey or dark clothes. The wall hooks had more jackets hanging on them, and cute little stuffed animals were carefully placed on her your bed. The shelves filled with cute little plants that you both lovingly cared for, filling the empty gaps between an action figure and another. Living with her was a dream come true; you couldn't have been happier. You both had created a space that was uniquely yours, filled with love and a familiar warmth, it felt like family.

And before you knew it a new member joined your little family — a golden retriever. You had always dreamt of having a dog, but your parents never allowed you to have one when you were a kid. You had been talking about how much you loved the idea of having a furball running around your little apartment, ever since, Ellie had been secretly planning to surprise you with a cute little puppy. She had subtly asked you what kind of dog you would like, and she started doing her research. She had never owned a dog before, so she wanted to learn as much as possible about what puppies needed. Puppies required more than just toys and cuddles, after all they needed proper nutrition, and she was confused about what kind of food to get for the puppy. She went to the grocery store and found a wide variety of puppy food with different flavors and vitamins. After careful consideration, she picked out what she thought was the best one for the puppy. One day, she told you that she was staying out late for work; in reality, the poor baby had to drive for an hour to get the exact puppy she had seen on social media (Facebook, to be exact, Joel had helped her with that). The puppy was a beautiful golden retriever with a shiny coat and an adorable face. The drive back home with the puppy was mostly quiet, except for her talking to the honey-furred baby that sat there in the passenger seat in silence, looking at her lovingly.

The puppy's big, brown eyes had already stolen her heart, and she found herself speaking in a silly, high-pitched voice "I just know she's gonna love you," she cooed, her words directed at the adorable pup. "You're such a good girl, aren't ya?" she continued, praising the puppy for every little thing she did, even breathing. "You better not be stealing her from me too much, though, or else…" she trailed off, her voice filled with mock threats. But her playful words quickly turned to more affectionate ones as she gazed into the puppy's sweet eyes. "Gosh, you're so fuckin' cute," she whispered, her fingers gently caressing the puppy's soft fur while the other remained on the steering wheel "Wonder what your name will be," she hummed, tapping her fingers lightly on the wheel. She began to sing a song she had just made up on the spot, directed at the little furball who was wiggling her tail in excitement. "My cute little shrimp," she sang, her voice filled with love and affection, but when the puppy let out a little whine at her singing, she couldn't help but laugh at herself. "What? Am I that much of a bad singer?" she joked, her voice filled with self-deprecating humor. "Oof, tough crowd," she added, chuckling at her own joke "Just wait till I show you my guitar skills, you little shit."

When she finally made it to your apartment, she had to carry the little shrimp all the way up to the stairs cause the puppy was too scared to climb them and the elevator was currently broken. She had to take small steps to make sure she wouldn't trip over her own feet or something like that. "So heavy," she muttered under her breath before putting the pup down, her arms aching. She unlocked the door and you immediately called out your name. "You home, baby?" she heard from the kitchen, where she assumed you were washing the dishes because she could hear the sound of clinking plates. She responded, "Could you come here real quick? need your help with something." She left the dog outside on the doorstep, behind the wall and out of your sight.

You shouted from the kitchen, "Give me a second," before approaching her. She handed you a plastic bag filled with dog toys and bowls. You looked at her in confusion since you didn't own a pet. "What's this for?" you asked, puzzled. She didn't reply but simply moved to the side and clicked her tongue multiple times. The fur ball appeared and ran to you wiggling her tail. You slapped your hand on your mouth in disbelief, and your eyes widened in surprise, soon welling up with tears.

You got on your knees and held the pup close to you, hugging the fur ball tightly. "Oh my fucking god, iloveyouiloveyou," you kept rambling between cute sniffles, and she couldn't help but laugh at your reaction. "Surprise, babe," she said with a small smile, kneeling down to pet the puppy in your arms. The puppy was small and soft, with big brown eyes and tiny paws. You couldn't believe how adorable she was.

"I love you so fucking much. She is so fucking cute. I can't believe it. I'm a mother now," you said, tears of joy running down your cheeks. She chuckled at your words, happy to see you so happy. "Yep, we're parents now," she played along, scratching the dog behind her ear. "What're we naming her?" she asked then, wiping the tears off your face with her thumb.

"Maple?" you sniffled hard, "Maple, I like Maple." You looked down at the little pup in your arms, and she looked up at you with innocent eyes.

Ever since the beginning, it was clear that Maple was more than just a pet; she was a member of your family. She was such a beautiful and intelligent dog, whenever you or Ellie came home, Maple would be the first to greet you with a wagging tail and excited barks that would fill the room with her infectious energy. She would jump up, her paws dancing in the air, and nuzzle her wet nose against your hand begging for cuddles and kisses. But Maple's abilities went beyond just being a dog. She had an incredible intuition that seemed almost human-like, and had a sixth sense when it came to reading emotions. She always seemed to sense whenever your heart was going a little too crazy and would nudge you with her nose to make you sit down. But your heartbeat wasn't the only thing she could sense; whenever Ellie was about to have a panic attack she could feel it, and if she was having one and you weren't by her side, she would come get you.

You remembered the first time this happened. It was a dark and stormy night, and you and Ellie had just gone to bed. You were sound asleep when Maple jumped up on the bed and began licking your face frantically. You thought she needed to go outside, so you groaned, "Babe, think Maple needs to-" You started, your voice still thick with sleep, but when your hand landed on the empty mattress instead of your girlfriend's shoulder, you instantly woke up.

Following Maple to the bathroom, you found Ellie sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her freckled face, and her breathing uneven. You knelt down in front of her and spoke to her softly, using a soothing tone to calm her down. You knew better than just to touch her; she seemed too absent and lost in her own nightmare to welcome such an invasion. "El, hey…I'm here, honey." As your gentle cooing reached her ears, she seemed to awaken from a trance, her terrified eyes locked with yours, fear etched across her beautiful features. "Hi baby, it's okay." you tried to calm her down, "i'm here, okay?" she was trembling with fear, and your heart sank. You gently placed your hand on her knee and tried to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. With a soft and soothing voice, you said, "You're safe now...let's take a deep breath together, alright?" You could see the tears streaming down her face as she tried her best to mimic your deep breaths. You kept encouraging her to take deep breaths in and out, and she slowly began to calm down. Maple sat in the corner of the bathroom, watching over Ellie with a concerned expression. When Ellie finally calmed down, you sat down next to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you," you felt her body relax and her breathing steady. She leaned into your touch, and you could feel the tension in her body slowly dissipating. You were her anchor, her everything. You could feel her heartbeat slowing down as she rested her head on your chest, listening to the rhythm of your breathing. You kissed the top of her head tenderly, and she closed her eyes, taking in your scent. Suddenly, she rasped out, "I love you," her voice sounded weak, you knew she was exhausted "I love you more — Feeling better?" You ran your fingers through her messy hair, and she gave you a small nod in response. The golden furball walked to Ellie's other side and laid down, placing her head on her thigh. Ellie smiled weakly and petted her gently "My two favorite girls," you joked with a soft tone, trying to lighten the mood. An airy scoff left her nose as all three of you sat there, cuddling each other.

Maple was an essential part of your family. She was always there, no matter where you went. Sundays were extra special because Ellie would be at home all day. You would spend those days soaking up all her attention and going to the beach with her and Maple, your cute little meatball. There was nothing better than lounging under the warm afternoon sun, and Ellie bringing a big umbrella to shield you from the heat. While you played with Maple, she would often strum her guitar or sketch the two of you, looking at you with heart eyes as she captured the moment on paper. The sound of your laughter would fill the air, as you threw the frisbee to Maple and enjoyed the perfect beach day with Ellie by your side. You were all she ever wanted and she was all you ever wished for.

That's why she felt the need to take your relationship to the next level.

"Baaaabe" you shouted from the living room while browsing through the countless titles on Netflix. "Yeah?" Your girlfriend responded from the kitchen, her voice echoing through the cozy apartment as she paced around, probably making you something to drink. "What do you wanna watch?" your eyes casted across the big TV screen, the multiple titles illuminate your face, making it difficult to choose just one. You heard a sigh from the other side of the couch and looked over to see your beloved dog, Maple, ready to nap after a long day of work. poor dog.

"Uhhh…dunno, a horror movie?" she suggested, sounding unsure. "Wow, thanks for the help, Ellie. Always so useful," You retorted in a fake annoyed tone "Do you remember that new movie with Jennifer Lawrence I told you I wanted to watch?" she asked after a few moments of pondering, emerging from the kitchen with two steaming mugs in her hands. You raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "So, you wanna watch it for her, huh?" She laughed at your words and rolled her eyes. "C'mon, you told me to pick something, and I did," she explained handing you one of the mugs. "Careful, it's hot." You'd never seen this mug before, Ellie was obsessed with collecting new ones, so you didn't really pay attention to it. "Okay, fine, Jennifer Lawrence, it is," you said as you selected the movie she suggested. "Hi, baby," you heard her say in a high-pitched voice, and when you looked at her, you realized she was talking to the dog. "Hi baby? really? I'm literally right here." She giggled at your response and scooted closer to you, kissing your cheek. "Hi baby," she repeated her words, but this time in a sultry tone "Better."

You took another sip of your drink, but you could feel her gaze lingering on you. When you turned to look at her, she quickly averted her eyes and pretended to be interested in the TV. "What?" you asked, brows furrowing in confusion. "What?" she echoed back, acting like she hadn't been staring at you for the last 15 minutes. "No, you what" you repeated, her eyes darting from the mug in your hands to you. "You done with that yet?" she questioned, seeming almost too impatient. "Huh?" she cleared her throat, eyes wandering nervously around the living room for a few seconds before returning them to you again. "Are you done with your latte? Want me to make you more?" she rephrased it, trying to sound less nervous. You looked down at your mug for a second "Not yet"

Her eyes remained glued on you, eagerly awaiting for something, a reaction perhaps, you couldn't tell, she was just acting weird as hell. "Done?" she asked for the third time in a row, after every five seconds, but to her, it felt like an eternity. "Ellie, I swear—" You let out an exasperated sigh "What?" she replied, her voice laced with innocence. "No, seriously. You tryna poison me or something?" you joked,and she simply scoffed at your words and rolled her eyes at you. "Just drink it fast, god," she demanded, her impatience showing. As you take the last sip, your eyes caught a glimpse of a few letters printed on the bottom of the mug.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the words

Will you marry me?

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and before you could even process what was happening, you jumped into her lap, crying in her arms. She wrapped her arms around you tightly, and you could feel her heart beating in sync with yours. "Yesyesyesyes" you had whispered between sobs, your voice choked with emotion. Her eyes lit up with joy and she pulled away, revealing a small diamond ring in her hand. You looked at her in awe, realizing that that was the moment you had been waiting for your entire life. The woman of your dreams had asked you to spend the rest of your life with her, and you couldn't have been happier.

"I love you so much," you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as you watched her hands sliding the ring on your finger. She chuckled through her own tears and replied, "I think I love you even more." You sniffled and cupped her face, saying, "I love you with all my heart."

Ellie being Ellie, couldn't help but make a joke about that. She looked at you with a playful smirk on her face; she wiggled her eyebrows up and down and said, "All your heart, huh?"

With a grin, you replied, "It's beating like crazy for you." Then she asked if you wanted to hear a joke from her pun book, but you knew it was a rhetorical question. You prepared yourself for the inevitable dumb joke she was about to tell. "Ellie, I thought we talked about this." You fake scolded her, but she couldn't hold back her smile as she started her joke, almost as if she was about to make the funniest joke ever but everyone who knew Ellie knew that her jokes were...questionable. "Are you pulmonary embolism?" she proceeded, barely containing her laughter.

"Oh no," you frowned, rubbing your forehead. She then delivered the punchline with a wide smile, all proud of herself "Because you take my breath away." You looked at her with a deadpan expression and let out a sigh. You shook your head, and said "Can't believe I'm marrying you," trying to hide the smile that was starting to form on your lips. Ellie looked at you with a cocky grin "Right? I'm great like that — Talented, charming, great jokes...what else could you possibly want?" Rolling your eyes, you responded, "fancy package, lucky me"

After your laughter had subsided, you gazed into her captivating green eyes with a smile filled with affection. You were so deeply in love that it felt almost painful. You could hardly believe how fortunate you were to have found each other. The thought of spending the rest of your lives together filled you with joy and excitement. Both of you leaned in simultaneously, eager to feel the warmth of each other's lips in a tender and passionate kiss.

She was the person who made your life complete. You felt like you had been waiting for her all your life; your life always felt so dull and empty and you never understood why or what it was missing, until you met her. She was your soulmate, your best friend, and the love of your life. You couldn't imagine spending a single day without her by your side. She was the one who made everything better, who made you laugh with her stupid and corny puns when you wanted to cry, who held your hand when you needed comfort. You knew that you could face anything as long as she was with you. You were grateful for every moment you spent together and looked forward to spending the rest of your life with her.

On your wedding day, the weather was perfect, with clear skies and a gentle breeze that carried the scent of flowers from the nearby garden. It felt like a dream come true, and you couldn't believe the day had finally arrived. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as you prepared to marry the love of your life. Sure, you were exhausted at the end of the day, but it was all worth it.

As you walked down the aisle, you saw everyone you loved and cared for, all gathered in one place to celebrate your special day. Ellie's closest friends, Dina and Jesse, Joel, your parents, and all your friends were there, beaming with joy and happiness. You were wearing a beautiful white dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, and Ellie couldn't help but cry when she saw you. Her dad rubbed her back, trying to calm the poor baby down, but the tears kept streaming down her face. You were a vision, and she couldn't believe how lucky she was to have you. Ellie was equally breathtaking in her suit, looking sharp and elegant, you couldn't take your eyes off her, she was so fucking fine. You exchanged vows, and it took her a while to finish reading hers, as she was choked up with sobs and emotions. You tried to comfort her by holding her trembling hands, but she was just a wreck.

When the time came for you to kiss your bride, the celebrant said, "You may now kiss your bride." Ellie looked at you with teary eyes, and you both giggled as you leaned in for a kiss, both of you smiling against each other's lips. That moment marked the beginning of your journey together as a married couple, but what mattered most was that you were both committed to being there for each other no matter what.

[thatfandomslut]

Kiss A Friend

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: SMUT, MDNI. Regina fingering reader, Reader going down on Regina. Other Trigger Warnings include... secret relationships & getting caught. The fic definitely begins on the smut.

Request:

Hellloo! Please can I request Regina x reader are secret gf’s, neither are out yet until someone catches them together?

Mean Girls requests are open.

Discord | Roleplay

Regina pulled (Y/n) into a heated kiss as her hand slipped into her skirt. It had been like this for months. The two were the most popular girls in school, along with their friends Karen and Gretchen. However, nobody could expect that the power tension between them from their power dynamic wasn't due to a power struggle. It was sexual tension that was often relieved in the janitor's closet while they participated in quickies or heated make-out sessions. Neither of them was out yet, so times like these, hidden behind the janitor's doors were sacred to them.

(Y/n) moaned out Regina's name as her hand found their way into her hair. Her lips were beginning to swell at how hard Regina was kissing her, and she forgot how to breathe for a moment. She could cum for Regina right then and there in that closet with Regina's hands in her pants, rubbing her clit. Regina always knew how to make her orgasm fast, it was a skill that Regina had honed confidentially. As she helped (Y/n) reach her orgasm, her lips silenced the moans pouring off of (Y/n)'s lips. "Cum for me," she whispered before returning to kissing her deeply. The action caused (Y/n) to moan into Regina's mouth as she came easily onto her fingers.

(Y/n) caught her breath as Regina licked her fingers clean from (Y/n). Moving to her knees, (Y/n) hiked up Regina's mini-skirt and pulled down the girl's panties for access. Regina allowed this as her fingers tangled in (Y/n)'s hair. (Y/n) chose not to comment on how wet Regina was for her as she attached her lips to the blonde's clit, sucking on it in a way that made Regina's knees want to buckle. (Y/n) held onto Regina's thighs as she began to eat Regina ate as if she was her last meal on death row. Regina was living for it and her head fell back and her eyes fluttered close.

A moan left Regina's lips before she bit them to quiet herself down. She found herself already growing closer as (Y/n)'s tongue hit right where it needed to. As she grew closer to her orgasm, she had to force herself to stay standing as her legs shook. (Y/n) knew this was a tale-tell sign that Regina was close, so she sped up in the way Regina enjoyed. Moments later, Regina hit her climax, and (Y/n) used her tongue to clean her up with ease. As she rode out her high, Regina's grip on (Y/n)'s hair remained tight until she relaxed her breathing, though her heartbeat was still racing in her chest.

(Y/n) fixed Regina back up, readjusting Regina's skirt for her. Their lips connected again as their tastes mingled together on each other's lips and their teeth clashed due to how passionate their kisses were. They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't hear the door open. Instead, they only heard a gasp and they pulled apart quickly in surprise. Standing there with her jaw slacked was Cady with Janis right behind her with a giant smirk. Regina quickly pushed Cady out of the room before closing the door with a curse. (Y/n) looked over to Regina with her brows furrowed, waiting to see what the blonde had to say.

"It's okay, they're not going to tell anyone," Regina spoke softly, knowing that they wouldn't. Cady was very kind, and Janis would never swing so low to hurt anyone. (Y/n) nodded a bit, running her hands through her tangled hair. She didn't know how to respond at the moment, her head still foggy from her orgasm but running a million miles an hour as she processed the fact that Cady and Janis had caught them.

Swallowing thickly, (Y/n) stood up straight. "If they tell people we were making out, I'll take the fall. I'll say that it wasn't you, but it was a girl. Me coming out will take the pressure off of you. I don't want you to feel like you have to come out just because they know." (Y/n) said, looking over to Regina. She knew Regina always struggled with telling people. They had been in a relationship for six months now, and the only people who knew were the two of them and (Y/n)'s dog (and now Cady and Janis). It kept things simple, and Regina liked simple, even if keeping their secret was complicated.

"I wouldn't ask you to do that," Regina had a new form of confidence forming in her chest. She fixed her hair and then moved to (Y/n), using her thumb to take off the smeared lipstick. (Y/n) knew the drill and did the same for (Y/n). "Can I ask you something? Are you ready to be out?"

(Y/n) nodded sheepishly in response. She had been ready, but she was patient. She didn't want to pressure Regina in any way. Nor did she want to make her feel like she had to come out. "If you're ready, I am, too. And, I wouldn't mind us two coming out together." Regina suggested with a soft smile as she held out her hand. (Y/n) smiled back as she took Regina's offer and the two left the closet together, fingers intertwined. And, automatically, everyone took note of the interaction.

Regina George and (Y/n) (L/n) were the school's new 'it' couple, and that was quickly established as they walked through the halls. Many people were jumping at the opportunity to get pictures or videos. Regina smiled over at (Y/n), who did the same as they made their way through the crowd unbothered. There was a new air around the two that screamed confidence on a higher level than before. Regina was proud to say that she came out with her girlfriend, and she felt relieved to not have to hide it. It was hard with Gretchen's need-to-know personality and the fact that Karen almost caught them several times.

But now, the two girls could officially say that they were free from the pressures of coming out, and they were now conquering the school together.

[muwapsturniolo]

✯FreshLove for the fit PT4 ✯

pt1 pt2 pt3 mww1 mww2 mww3 mww4

summary: Chris joins his girlfriend while streaming.

warnings: NSFW CONTENT. making out, fingering, pussy slapping, facial slapping, oral (m receiving), sex. dom! Chris, vibrator, live streaming. if I forgot anything let me know.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Chris grunts as Y/n tries to get off his lap, using his hands to keep her in place. The two were in her living room on the couch, making out for what felt like hours. They have been dating for a few months now, keeping their relationship a secret from socials and certain friends.

"Chris, I told you I can't be with you all day, I have to work."

Work, aka streaming.

Chris isn't oblivious to her line of work, that's how they met and started dating. He didn't care about it, in fact he loved it. He would occasionally watch her streams, getting off to her moans and the way her body moved.

"Go do your stream then, I'll wait right here."

Y/n huffs at his stubbornness. She wasn't embarrassed or ashamed of her job, she loved it, but she was all about respect. She didn't want to make Chris uncomfortable in any way shape or form. She raised her prices for personal sessions, she only streamed at night, and she made it clear to Chris to tell her if he started getting uncomfortable.

"Chris... I'm not leaving you in my living room while I stream." He shrugs and starts rubbing small circles on her hips, looking over her body. She was wearing one of his shirts that she cropped herself, underboob showing. She had on the tiniest pair of shorts, the orange material leaving little to imagine.

"Well I want to spend time with you, I have the next two days free and I told you I was spending them with you." He begins to kiss along her neck, her hair tickling his face slightly. She cranes her head to the side, giving him more space to leave the incoming hickies.

She doesn't want this to stop, if she could ditch this stream, she would in a heartbeat, but she knew she needed to do her job. Suddenly, an idea, a bold one, pops into her head.

"You wanna watch?"

Chris stops kissing at her neck, pulling away to get a good look at her. "What do you mean? like on my phone?"

She moves off his lap, walking towards the stairs. "No, I mean in person."

"You'll let me?'' She notices the glimmer in his eye and says nothing, ascending up the stairs. Chris flies off the couch, racing up the stairs to reach her. She's standing in front of a door Chris has eyed multiple times.

Every time he came over, the door was locked, the key never to be found. She unlocks the door and walks inside, Chris following close behind her.

He recognizes the room immediately, it's her streaming room. his heart begins to race as he looks around.

Y/n moves around the room, getting everything set up for the long stream ahead of her. After a few minutes, she walks over to Chris and pushes him down in a chair that's out of view from the camera. "Sit here and don't move. Don't even make a noise," she demands. Chris smirks, sinking down further into the chair, "Yes ma'am." She rolls her eyes and walks over to the bed, yelping when Chris lands a firm smack on her ass. She turns and gives him a dirty look which he just smiles at. She huffs and hops into the endless amounts of pillows.

She grabs the sparkly keyboard and taps away, loading up the stream. He watches as the monitor lights up and comments roll in.

"Hi everyone," he notices her voice is softer, much like the first time they talked. Her eyes scan the monitor, soft giggles escaping her mouth. "The hickies?" She eyes Chris before looking back at the camera.

"I have a special guest with me today, he won't be participating but he's watching." She pushes the keyboard away and swaps it out for a pillow, purposely hugging it close so her boobs are pushed up.

The stream continues, her chatting with the viewers about random things, talking about her day, etc. "You want me to take my shirt off?" she hums and begins to fiddle with the orange Freshlove shirt. "You guys know the rules"

Like clockwork, her phone blows up with multiple payment notifications. Chris is shocked seeing the payments roll in, he knew she got paid, but not this much.

She lets go of the pillow and slowly takes her shirt off, her boobs rippling slightly. Chris sucks in a sharp breath, adjusting his hips.

Chris is hard, painfully hard.

His girlfriend is sitting a few feet away from him, naked, and teasing both him and the audience, yet he can't do anything about it. Every once in a while she would tweak her nipples, talk about a new vibrator she bought, and even going as far as opening her legs slightly, showing the slick covering her folds, all while eyeing Chris deviously.

This was torture.

"I want to play now, you guys are no fun." She bats her lashes, pouting at the camera. She suddenly grabs a vibrator from the side of the bed and smiles. She turns it on and trails it over her body, teasing herself and the stream. She eyes Chris once again before turning back to the screen, "I think I'm going to be nice today."

She leans back, propping her legs up and showing off her glistening cunt. She puts the vibrator on her clit and immediately throws her head back in relief. She had a bunch of pent-up tension from her and Chris previously making out, and now it's being handled.

He sucks in a sharp breath as he watches her play with herself. Of course he's seen her masturbate through a phone, but seeing it in person is a different type of feeling. His hand slips into his sweats, stroking his aching member in an attempt to relieve the pain. He bites his lip, suppressing the groan wanting to spill out of his mouth, his hand moving faster.

His dick is throbbing at this point, leaking precum and pulsing under his touch. he watches with hungry eyes as his girl shows off in front of the camera.

"Mmf fuck!" She moans throwing her head back and grinding against the vibrator.

He can't handle it.

"fuck it"

He jumps up and rushes over to the bed, wrapping his hand around her throat and yanking her into a lustful kiss. She's in shock but doesn't fight it, both of them forgetting they are on a live stream. "You're working me baby, having me sit there and watch you play with yourself like a little whore." He growls as he pulls away from her. He removes his hand from her neck and grabs ahold of her hair, slapping her firmly. She whimpers but doesn't back out, "You gonna make it up to me?" She nods eagerly, always excited to please him. He grins at her, shoving her face in his crotch, "Go ahead ma, make it up to me."

Her hands move quickly, pulling his sweats and boxers down. His dick springs up, slapping his stomach, aching to be engulfed in her warm mouth. She grabs it by the base, slowly stroking it as she rubs the tip against her puckered lips. His precum glossing the soft pillows.

Chris yanks her hair harder than the first time, slapping her once again and starting to brutally fuck her mouth., "Stop fucking playing with me." She gags and chokes around him, tears running down her face and mixing in with the spit pooling out her mouth, mixing with the spit bubbles.

The chat goes wild seeing their favorite cam girl getting throat fucked by her boyfriend. They haven't seen her collaborate with an actual guy in so long, they were feining for it. They were sending in payments like crazy, her phone constantly buzzing.

She tries to slow him down, but it's no use. He goes even harder, making it a mission to bruise her throat.

"Come on, be a good girl and take it. I know you can." He pants as he feels himself getting close. He stalls in her throat, letting out deep and raspy groans as his hot seed spills into her throat. She looks up at him through salty tears, her body lurching due to her gag reflex. He pulls out of her throat, giving her no time to breathe, before he pulls her into a hungry kiss, not caring about his own cum being pushed into his mouth.

He pushes her back harshly, settling down behind her. He slaps her pussy a few times making her whimper and whine. He stops and runs his fingers through her folds, gathering her slick, "Look at you, making a mess and I haven't even fucked you yet."

He slaps her pussy once again making her close her legs, "Keep 'em fucking open. You want to show off like a whore, I'll treat you like one." He pushes her legs open, grabbing the vibrator that was discarded on the side of the bed. He turns it on and presses it on her clit, making her throw her head back onto his shoulder. He snakes his other arm around her front and sinks his fingers deep into her cunt.

Her back arches against his, her eyes fluttering shut. "You love this, don't you? You love being treated like a whore?" He grunts in her ear, his fingers moving faster.

"Answer me Ma, you like being my whore?" The lewd squelching noises and vibrations fill the room. "Fucckk! I love being you whore!" she answers, her hips chasing both the vibrations and his fingers. He hums and kisses along her neck, still driving his fingers in and out of her.

He turns the vibrator up by two settings, watching as her legs begin to shake, her toes curling.

"Oh fuck Chris!" She looks down and watches his fingers pump in and out of her, the cream pooling on the slender digits.

She feels herself getting close, dangerously close. She tries to pull it away but Chris stops her, holding her body and the vibrator in place. "Come on baby, don't be so shy. Show them what you do," he whispers in her ear, urging her to show her viewers his favorite action of hers.

She has never shown her stream that she could squirt, keeping it a secret, and now she's being forced to. He curls his fingers and that's the breaking point. She lets out a mix of a moan and a scream. Chris pulls the vibrator away, using his fingers that were once pumping in and out of her to swipe back and forth across her clit, aiding in pushing the liquid out. Her hips lift off the bed as her juices splash in front of them, landing on the pink blankets and monitor.

The chat blows up seeing her squirt for the first time, urging Chris to keep giving them a show of a lifetime.

He pulls his hand away, shoving his soaked fingers into her mouth. She gags but proceeds to lick his fingers clean, knowing their routine like the back of her hand. "good girl," he says pulling his fingers away from her mouth.

She has no time to recover due to Chris pushing her down face-first into the mattress. He lifts her waist, positioning her exactly how he wants her. Without warning, he slips inside of her. Her velvety walls suck him up just right, taking him in with no problem. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her body jolting with each harsh thrust Chris throws at her.

She tries to pull away from him, everything becoming too intense. "Don't run from me, you know I hate it." He grabs her waist and yanks her back, going even deeper and faster. "fuck fuck fuck I ca-" she reaches back and tries to push him away, angering him even more. He grabs her arm and holds it against her back, using it as an anchor to drive his body into hers. Her body falls onto the bed, Chris now lying on top of her, plowing relentlessly. He wraps his hand around her throat, forcing her head up. He smiles seeing the tears running down her face, "Aww, is it too much for you?" He taunts as he switches his pace, opting for slow and hard thrusts that would knock the wind out of her lungs. She's unable to speak, only being able to make a noise. He wraps his arm around her neck, squeezing slightly and watching as she goes cross-eyed, drool beginning to run out of her mouth.

With the deep thrusts that were already knocking the air from her lungs, and her oxygen supply being cut off, she's over the moon. She looks into the camera, giving a wide and fucked out smile that shows she's loving every second of it.

"You can handle it, I know you can. Be a good girl and cum for me." He whispers in her ear, still pounding his hips into her. Her eyes roll back as her body convulsed under him, reaching her high once again. He groans feeling her walls clamp down on him, begging him to stay inside her. He kisses her shoulder blade as he pulls out, a popping noise being heard. He flips her onto her back, grabbing her jaw harshly, "You gonna give me one more?" The girl is so fucked out and delirious, she doesn't answer.

He gives her a swift slap to the face that makes her moan. He smirks and lets go of her jaw, pushing her legs to her chest and slipping back inside of her with ease. Her back arches off the bed, a wheezing noise being heard from her. He wastes no time and ruthlessly pounds into her, enjoying the way she mumbles incoherently.

The creamy residue sits at the base of his dick, some of it flying and landing on the back of her thighs and his abdomen from the thrusts. He could never get tired of the sight, it was something about visually seeing their pleasure that drove him to keep going.

Y/n feels like she's about to pass out. Of course she has done streams where she has gotten fucked or overstimulated herself, but not like this. She usually had time to cool down so her stamina didn't run out, but with Chris it was different, and she loved it. chris was always ready to pleasure her back to back, pushing her to her limits, and leaving her shaking, fucked out, and pleading for more.

Chris feels his second high of the night approaching. In reality, it's been there the whole time but he refused to let go until Y/n was damn near passed out underneath him. He hooks his arms under her legs, going underneath her, and lifts her off the bed, beginning to jackhammer.

She lets out a scream, this new angle making her see stars, her sobs and moans bouncing off of the room. Chris has never fucked her while standing up, hell she was never fucked in this position in general. "Almost there, just a few more," he encourages as he drops her to the bed, pushing her legs to the side of her head, his pelvis meeting hers.

Their bodies bounce up and down on the bed, his dick reaching the deepest it could go, even hitting her cervix at times. She's holding on to his back, raking her acrylic nails down the soft skin.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" She finally finds her voice to speak the four words. "Come on baby, I'm right there."

He rubs circles on her clit, driving her to her high. Her back arches off the bed, her body shaking as if an exorcism was being performed. Chris stalls his hips deep inside of her, painting her walls a milky white as he groans in her ear.

Y/n lays there, holding Chris with closed eyes and panting. Chris turns and looks at the monitor, reading a few comments as he comes down from his high.

"Isn't that Chris Sturniolo?"

That comment makes him freeze, his actions suddenly hitting him. He quickly stands up from the bed, pulling out of Y/n harshly. She whimpers from the sudden movement, her body sore and tired.

Chris quickly pulls on his boxers, darting toward her computer in the corner. His eyes dart across the screen, looking for the end button. He finds it and abruptly ends the stream, his heart pounding

He turns hearing Y/n whine. He walks over to her and picks her up, carrying her out of the room, and to her own bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up ok?" He mumbles looking down at her. She hums, allowing him to set her down on her bed.

As he runs the bathwater for Y/n, he only has one thought going through his head.

"I fucked up."

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I'M SO SORRY THIS FIC TOOK 40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS TO BE PUT OUT😭 I JUST HAVE BAD WRITERS BLOCK WHEN IT COMES TO THIS FIC SPECIFICALLY!!! BUT THIS SERIES IS MY BABY CUZ I FEEL LIKE IT WAS THE ONE YALL ATE UP WHEN I FIRST STARTED POSTING SO I HAD TO BRING IT UP FOR THE ONE TIME!!!

THIS IS (finally) THE END OF MUWAP WEEK!!! THANK YOU FOR TUNNING IN!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!!

XOXO, PEACHES 🍑

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @cassiopeialunax @mrssturnioloo @teenagetrash00 @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity

[cursingtoji]

I am back for more

31… BUT HEAR ME OUT 😩 I can’t pick between Suguru and Choso because they both fit it SOO well so you pick ☺️💕

𝕿𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖔 𝕬𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙!𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖔

⊱ fem reader x heavily tattooed choso, porn with a plot, dirty talk, semi-public sex, fingering, a tongue piercing; The Clichés ™;

note: winter i remember us talking about tattoo artist choso and i went feral with it, geto is mentioned but he does not participate (yet? 👀)

tattoo artist!Choso who is heavily tattooed mostly black and gray art. his fair skin contrasting with the dark ink on his arms and neck. black smudged eyeliner around his brown eyes make his look upon you feel a thousand times deeper

choso is a sight for sore eyes

he’s exactly the kind of guy you would expect to see working in a tattoo shop

when you go get a matching tattoo with your best friend is when you first see him, writing something down at the reception and not noticing you at first

his pretty face and deep eyes greet you both with a smile so pretty that makes you forget the name of your scheduled artist.

“matching tattoos…” he looks in a book as you hope him to be the artist, “ah here, Suguru!” he calls and a man with black hair tied in a bun comes to you and your friend.

“thank you” you smile getting a wink back from him.

suguru is very friendly, he asks your bestie questions about your friendship since she’s the first one to get inked while you look around the shop, more specifically at the art in frames hanging all around the walls.

one catches your eye: a traditional japanese dragon with some flowers and clouds around it.

you even get closer to take a better look at the intricate details

your friend has to tap your shoulder when shes done cause you completely spaced out thinking about that art on your body

suguru can’t help but notice how your eyes keeping swinging back to that piece on the art while he’s tattooing your forearm

“you know that was done by one of our guys” he says, “Choso. You met him in the reception” he points with his chin to the handsome man

“really? that’s so beautiful… was it done for a client or something like that?” you ask wanting to know if someone else already had that piece of art tattooed.

“no, not really. choso created that on his own” suguru smirks when sees you biting your lip “you know… that would look gorgeous on your back or thigh” you were already tempted without suguru pushing you

by the time your matching tattoo is done, suguru had already convinced you to come back and get the dragon on your thigh, since choso was nowhere to be seen, suguru himself scheduled your appointment with choso for next week.

“gotcha an appointment” suguru says finding choso on the break room

“oh yeah?”

“she’s gonna get the dragon with flowers that has been on the wall for months”

choso stops all he’s doing and looks at suguru with an empty expression

“i know i know, you’re afraid to tattoo it, client not liking and you ending up heart broken cause it’s your favourite drawing of yours…” choso delivered a light punch on his friend’s shoulder, “but come on, the girl was so cute and she really loved it”

it’s not like choso could just call you and say he wasn’t gonna do it so after another punch on suguru he returned to his station and followed his week until the day you returned to studio

saying you were anxious is an understatement

it would be a pretty large tattoo that you decided to get on your thigh, but the expectation to see choso again played a big part on your apprehensiveness

your artist is already at the reception talking to a younger guy you haven’t seen around the last time

you greet them both and say your there for your appointment, the younger one asks who your artist is

“she’s mine, come on sweetheart” he says so casually and leaves you trying to regulate your heartbeats

choso takes you upstairs to the corner of the room and tells you to get comfortable on the chair after you okayed the size of the stencil

“i need you to take it off or it’ll get stained with ink” he pointed to your shorts and closed the curtain, he stayed there but turned around pretending to organize the caps to give you some privacy

you wiggle out of the article and sat back on the chair with your black undies and nothing else under the waist, thankfully you chose a good one, when you’re comfortable choso approaches to rub some alcohol and place the stencil

as soon as you agree he begin to trace the patterns with you sitting on the partially reclined chair

“how we doing?” he looks up after half an hour, having finished part of the drawing

“i’m alright” you sigh

“strong girl, we can make a break in another hour, then i’ll have finished the flowers” he assures and go back to focusing on your thigh

having a gorgeous man so close to your crotch was having an effect on you that didn’t match the pain he was inflicting

of course it hurt but every time he gets too close to your skin and you feel his hot breathing fanning over the sore area you unconsciously press your thighs together

and choso is not stupid, of course he notices how aroused his cute client is, he has his hand on your inner thigh and whenever your reflexes kick and you try to close them he tights his grip on you to avoid you moving and screwing up his lines

“sure you’re okay?” he stops the machine to run vasiline on your skin very softly while looking in your eyes, you can’t find your voice to answer him “we can take a break now, maybe i can get you to relax a little” he doesn’t need to move his hand much to touch the covered lips of your pussy, when he does you whimper

“i can smell how wet you are, does pain turn you on that much?” he removes his hand to snap his glove out and touch the wet patch on your underwear with his bare fingers

you shake your head “no? what was it then? don’t tell me it’s me” he raises from his stool staring from above while you look back at him with doe eyes “aren’t you cute” he murmurs kissing your forehead and pushing your underwear aside to run his fingers on your wet folds a couple of times before pushing them in

“i need you to keep it down for me, can you do that?” he murmurs it so low you barely hear it due to the other voices on the other side of the curtain, you nod and starts to move his fingers skillfully

“naughty girl, booked a tattoo just to get your pussy played with tsk tsk” he adds a second finger keeping your clit under his thumb

“no! i really want it” you reply immediately not wanting him to think for a second you didn’t love his art

that seemed to be enough affirmation for choso, who leans taking your chin with his free hand, he stops right before your lips studying the little pout you have and how dilated your pupils are

he smirks and softly bites your bottom lip, which makes you yelp but he licks it apologetically

choso feels like eating you whole, the way you respond to him is mesmerizing

“c-choso i’m close” you grip his arm and he pushes his tongue in, swallong your moans cause the last thing he needs is one of his coworkers finding out about this

you didn’t notice at first due to his ministrations bellow your waist but he had a tongue piercing, the cold metal rolls between your tongues, a new exciting addition to an already great kiss

his thumb flicker your clit and you press your thighs around his hand climaxing hard and silently

“good girl” he pulls away taking a string of saliva, you rest your head on the chair recovering from your high, for a second your eyes close but soon open them again when you feel a tissue touch your sensitive core

“wait aren’t you— aren’t we—?” you look down to his bulge, he was clearly aroused too

“calm down lady, this is just the first session” he laughs and gently cleans you and the chair finishing up by placing your underwear back, “lemme finish this and if you don’t tap out or squirm i’ll reward you in the end” he winks before disappearing behind the curtains for a couple of minutes, you take the chance to look down at your skin

it was a bit swollen but you could see that the part he had inked already was perfect, the dragon was halfway done and you couldn’t wait to see it completed

when choso gets back he’s pleasurably surprised to find you looking at your leg with a smile in your face

“lemme see…” a few hours later you’re at the reception talking to the boy from before to schedule your return in order to color the rest of the tattoo, “choso is free next—“

“actually yuuji you can book her for this weekend” choso steps up, just walking down the stairs. moments before he told to check with yuuji while he cleaned his station

“you are not working this weekend” yuuji looks at him suspiciously

“i am now” choso emphasize by tapping his finger on the date at the planner

“hm okay” yuuji takes your information and you thank him before choso leads you out

“you’ll be working just for me?” you ask once you’re out

“yeah but you’ll buy us lunch after i’m done”

“done with the tattoo?”

“done with you” your eyes widen and you’re already excited for your date

“okay, I’ll pay, but…” you step closer to him but not too much so the people inside the shop don’t notice, “you’ll have to use your tongue”

“you liked that?” he rolls his tongue out displaying the shiny round metal, “fine i’ll show you what i can do with it next time”

See also: “who did this to you?” + Sukuna

[alisonsfics]

his peace

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: when carmy meets you at an al-anon meeting, he’s surprised why how safe he feels with you immediately. but with that comes the anxiety of scaring you away.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: carmy and the reader meet at an al-anon meeting, but no actual discussion of sensitive topics

Carmy took yet another deep breath. He could hear his heartbeat pounding. He wiped his sweaty palms off on his jeans. He saw someone start walking down the hallway towards him. They gave him a small sympathetic smile, noticing his obvious nervousness.

He tried to take more breaths, as though it would give him a fresh perspective and a boost of confidence.

He ran his hand through his hair and reminded himself why he was there. Before he lost his courage, he walked past the “Al-Anon Meeting Today at 2pm” sign and in the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief once he entered the room. He’d been dreading the inside of this room. He was expecting to be met with cold stares and judgmental glances. Instead, the room seemed peaceful, and no one even seemed to notice him.

He picked a spot along the back wall and stood there. He casually leaned back against the wall, wanting to observe the meeting today instead of participate.

You were across the room. You were at the “snack” table that was topped with bottles of water and little packaged snacks, along with fliers full of resources like hotlines and therapist offices.

You caught a glimpse of the man lurking in the back of the room. You noticed the way his eyes avoided your gaze and focused on the floor.

You slowly walked over towards him. Everyone else was having side conversations before the meeting started. He was the only one who was alone.

You’d been coming to these meetings for a while, but you remembered how alone you felt at your first one. You didn’t want him to feel like that.

He only looked up at you once you were standing a few feet in front of him. He gave you a quick anxious smile. He could feel his palms start to sweat again. “Am I not allowed to just watch? This is my first time. I don’t know how these things go.” He rambled, nervously.

“No no no, feel free. It’s totally up to you. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.” You said, holding out your hand to him. His eyes darted to your hand, which he quickly grabbed and gave a firm shake.

“I’m Carmen. My friends call me Carmy though. It’s nice to meet you.” He said, smiling at you. He didn’t know why, but he felt lighter. Like some of the pressure had been taken off. Surviving this meeting felt like less of a big deal when he looked into your eyes.

His thoughts usually operated at a thousand miles a minute, but they seemed to still in your presence.

“I remember how anxious I was at my first meeting. I’m not trying to force you to do anything. You do whatever feels right. But, nothing bad will happen if you come sit with us. I know you probably have all those worst case scenarios in your head right now, but I promise none of them are going to happen.” You tried to assure him as best as you could.

Carmy slowly nodded his head, thinking about what you said. He considered it more than he thought he would. It sounded less scary when you talked about it.

“I’m just not really ready to share or anything yet. I think I’d rather just stay back here and watch.” He told you, hesitantly. The thought of having to talk to a room of strangers about his dead brother was almost enough to paralyze Carmy.

“You can come and just listen, if you want. No one will force you to share. Again, absolutely no pressure, but I’ll save you a seat and leave it up to you.” You said, giving him a small smile and heading towards the circle of chairs.

Carmy watched as you walked away. Something about you made Carmy feel calm. You were encouraging enough that he felt like he could do anything.

He watched you for a few minutes. You were sat down and quietly talking to two other people next to you. Your warm smile made him feel optimistic. He was already looking forward to seeing you once a week.

You looked up and noticed he was watching you. He softly smiled at you. You went back to your conversation, not wanting to pressure him in any way by staring.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him walk up to the chair and sit beside you. You looked over at him and gave him an encouraging smile. You knew how massive a small step like that could feel.

You continued to check in with him throughout the meeting. After each person took their turn sharing, you’d look over at Carmy to make sure he was alright. You felt strangely protective over him, considering you’d just met.

After the meeting, he pulled you to the side. “Thank you for encouraging me today. I’ve been really worried about this meeting, but you helped me feel a lot more comfortable.” He said, genuinely. There was a certain sparkle in his eye that he didn’t even know was there. He felt hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“Of course. I’m glad I was able to help. I’m always here to talk, if you want.” You told him. You were met with a grateful nod.

“Do you maybe want to go get lunch? You’re just really easy to talk to.” He asked you. All of a sudden, you had butterflies in your stomach. You couldn’t hide your smile. “I’d love to.” You told him.

You both walked through the city talking about your lives. You both talked about why you went to Al-Anon meetings. You were one of the first people Carmy told about the Michael stuff.

It became a weekly tradition. Every week you both would sit side by side and then go out to lunch afterwards. By the third meeting, you’d gotten Carmy out of his shell enough to share with the group for the first time.

Carmy was trying really hard to appreciate how good it was with you. Especially since he knew he had a tendency to expect bad things to happen. It also meant he was scared of screwing it up.

So, he kept it separate. You and his life at The Beef were two completely different spaces in his head. You were peace, and The Beef was chaos. You were stress relief, and The Beef was stress-inducing.

That worked fine until he was bickering with Richie at the cash register, as usual, and he saw you walk in the front door.

Realizing it was you, Carmy froze. He’d forgotten all about the argument with Richie, and his eyes were glued on you.

You watched as his cheeks turned a soft shade of red. Carmy was mortified that you were seeing this side of his life. The side that involved screaming and chaos and arguments.

“Not right now, Richie,” Carmy mumbled, pushing past Richie and walking into the kitchen. Carmy’s thoughts started racing. He walked past Sydney and Marcus and Tina as they yelled different questions at him.

His mind was on one thing now. He marched towards the office after he spotted Natalie sitting at the desk. He needed to talk to someone about you, finally.

He barged into the office and closed the door behind him. The yelling of the kitchen was slightly muffled, blending in with the thoughts bouncing around his head.

“Carm, what’s wrong?” Nat asked, looking up and seeing her brother out of breath. Carmy immediately sat down on the couch and put his head into his hands.

He could feel himself spiraling and was trying to stop it before it got too far. All his emotions were bubbling to the surface. He truly thought he was going to scare you away.

“Carm, seriously, what’s going on? I’m getting worried.” Nat repeated.

He looked up from the floor, and she could see the panic in his eyes. “I went to a meeting. And I met this girl. She’s really been helping me. I just feel so calm when I’m with her.” He said. Nat noticed a glint in his eye when he talked about you.

“Carm, that’s great. I’m really proud of you. I know it took a lot for you to go. So, what’s wrong?” She asked, sitting beside him. She held onto his hand, encouraging him to explain.

“She’s umm…outside right now. I didn’t tell her about this place, but she just walked in.” He mumbled, glancing back towards the closed door. Nat slowly nodded, trying to piece together what he was so worried about.

“What’s so bad about that?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. Carmy shrugged. He wasn’t quite able to explain why he had this pit in his stomach.

“She’s the one thing in my life that just feels pure and completely separate from all the shit here. I haven’t let her see this side of me, and I really like her, Sugar. But if she sees this side of me, she’ll know how fucked up I am.” He said. His eyes were desperate. He was begging Nat for a solution. He needed to know what to do.

She pulled Carmy into a hug, rubbing his back slowly. “She sounds really good for you, Bear. I think you should tell her how you feel. She’s not gonna run away because you’re complicated. Everybody’s complicated. It’s just life. And if she makes your life better, you should go for it.” She said, giving Carmy the perfect sisterly advice.

“You really think so?” Carmy said, looking back towards the door. She just nodded and patted Carmy on the back. He slowly stood up from the couch.

Deep down he knew Nat was right, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared out of his mind.

He walked back through the kitchen, ignoring the chaos surrounding him as he walked towards you. As long as he stayed focused on you, he could drown out all the chaos.

He walked back into the front of the restaurant. You weren’t in line anymore. His eyes searched around for you until he saw you sitting at a small table in the corner.

Richie was still at the cash register taking another customer’s order. “I’m sorry, cousin. We can talk later.” Carmy said, patting Richie’s shoulder as he walked by. He knew if he wanted less chaos in his life, it would take a lot of effort on his part.

He walked over to where you were sitting. When you looked up at him, you noticed his hesitant smile. “Please, sit,” you said, gesturing towards the seat in front of you. He quickly nodded and then sat down.

“Hey, umm, I’m sorry that I kinda ran away earlier. I was just surprised to see you here.” He said, sheepishly. He scratched the back of his neck. You felt a small smile creep on your face. Bashful was a cute look on Carmy.

“It’s totally fine. I was shocked to see you too. I didn’t know you worked at a restaurant.” You said, smiling at him. He quickly looked up to meet your eyes and then shook his head. “I actually own the restaurant. This was Mikey’s before he died, and he left it to me.” He told you.

You noticed how happy he was when he was talking about his brother. Carmy was still bracing for you to storm out the door, and he didn’t even know why.

It was probably because in his life, good things never lasted.

Until you.

He felt a little bit of imposter syndrome with you. Like he’d been pretending to be this person with his life put together. And now, you were seeing what his life really looked like.

“I think that’s really beautiful, Carmy. You know, you running this place to honor your brother. I bet he’d be really proud of you.” You said. You gently reached across the table and let your hand rest on top of his. He quickly looked between you and your hand on his.

“Really? You don’t like…think this place is a total shit hole? With all the screaming and everything. Everything here is fuckin’ chaos.” He said, chuckling to himself. Self doubt had always been something that haunted Carmy.

You quickly shook your head, assuring him. “Just because it’s a little messy doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful. Nothing’s ever tied up neatly in a bow. Especially not when you’re dealing with family. I think it just means you care, not that you’re doing a bad job.” You said, running your thumb along the back of his hand.

He could hear his heart beating as he looked at you. Your hand touching his had goosebumps running up his arm. And when you looked at him with that smile, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Hey, do you maybe wanna— I uhhh… nevermind, I’m probably reading this wrong.” He said, quickly standing up from the table and starting to walk away.

You giggled to yourself at his shyness. You stood up and grabbed his hand to stop him. He spun around to face you, with hope in his eyes. Because you had stopped him from leaving, which had to be a good sign, right?

You tugged him closer to you. He could feel his eyes go wide. He was trying to read every little part of your expression. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His stomach did a flip. He noticed how the warmth lingered on his cheek.

“Do you want to go get dinner sometime?” You asked, finishing his question for him. His shocked expression turned into a smile. “I would umm— definitely, I would really like that.” He said, fumbling through his words.

Something about you made Carmy forget how to speak. “You’re cute when you’re blushing.” You said, cocking your head to the side and admiring him.

One of his hands flew up to cover his cheeks. Carmy hadn’t realized he was so easy to read. “No no, I’m not blushing. It’s just uhhh— from the cold, y’know,” he said, failing to convince you.

You giggled to yourself. The sound was angelic to Carmy and made his stomach do somersaults. “We’re inside though.” You said, smirking at him as he was caught in his excuse.

“Oh, yeah, would you look at that,” he said, pretending to be shocked. You jokingly rolled your eyes at him. He stepped forward, cupping your cheek and kissed you softly. You rested your hands on his sides as his lips softly moved against yours.

You both pulled away with giant smiles on your faces. “I really like you.” He admitted, interlacing his fingers with yours. You felt your smile grow even wider. “Likewise,” you said, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I want to introduce you to someone.” He said, leading you back to the office to introduce you to Sugar.

It seemed like a weird choice, but for Carmy, it was him bridging his two lives together. He didn’t want to keep them separate anymore. He wanted you to be in his life, his real life, not the life he pretended to have.

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[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 22

a/n: i am continuously blown away by your support. thank you for sticking with me through this. as always, thank you @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter 21 here ]

Chapter 22: Of Seungmin and Karaoke

Your frustration with Chan hardly subsides over the next couple of days. Thankfully the rotation announcement was on a Thursday, so you don’t have to worry about sleeping in his room the rest of the week. You assume he’s keeping to himself in his room because you don’t see him around the house all day Friday. The next time you see him is at the dinner table on Saturday.

You’re seated at the opposite end of the table, conversing with Hyunjin, Felix and Charlotte. You can feel Chan’s eyes boring into you damn near the entire time, but you refuse to look in his direction. After that night in his room, you have to wonder if you constantly caving to him is what’s putting both of you in this position. If you resist and stand your ground, maybe it will make it easier for you both to pretend you feel nothing.

But you can’t understand why it’s so hard to do. You’re trying to be an active participant in the conversation, but you have to keep telling yourself not to look up at him. The fucked up thing is that neither of you are in the wrong here. And that just makes it all the more confusing.

He’s not wrong in suggesting that you should try to distance yourself from him in preparation for what’s to come. However, he could have gone about it in a completely different manner. He instead retreated back to asshole Chan mode with how he spoke to you. A defense mechanism, perhaps. It was a failed defense, though. Your Chan slipped through the cracks—the way he stopped you from leaving his room...the way he fucked you as if you’re the only thing he needs to survive. His body calls to yours and it always responds because you need him just as much.

After dinner, a handful of the boys offer to wash the dishes since the girls have to get ready to change rooms tomorrow. None of you give them a chance to change their mind as you all stand from your seats and file out of the kitchen towards the den. Chan, having left the table a few minutes before, stops you in the hallway by lightly grabbing your arm. The other girls glance back at you, and you motion for them to carry on without you.

“Y/n,” he says softly.

Your heartbeat quickens when he breathes your name, the skin on your arm where he’s holding it feels like it’s on fire. You don’t turn around to face him, but you don’t pull your arm away either. You allow yourself a moment to take in the heat and passion that’s radiating off him.  

“About the other night,” he continues, “I’m sor—”

“Don’t be,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “You’re right. We should want to do this. And I’m going to give it a try.”

You don’t believe the words you’re saying, even as they fall from your lips. But you have to be the stronger one. You must be the one to push him away. If you stop giving in to him, maybe it will be easier for you both to accept your separate futures.

He lets go of his hold on you and you take a tentative step forward. He doesn’t attempt to stop you; and it fucking hurts.

You start thinking back to your trip together—maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to go. You shouldn’t have asked him to pretend with you. But you’ve never seen him happier or more authentically himself. Would this all be easier if you never knew how he felt about you? Yes. Do you regret him telling you? Absolutely not.

You leave him behind in the hallway and join the girls in the den. You take a seat on the last empty papasan.

“Everything okay?” Charlotte asks.

“Yeah…just Chan being Chan…have fun with that, Allie.” You keep your tone light, wanting it to sound like a joke.

They carry on with their conversation about switching rooms tomorrow and how best to cope with the rotations. To your knowledge, no one else in the house knows how Chan truly feels about you. They have no clue that this entire rotation debacle is your fault, and you want to keep it that way.

The girls seem quite rational in their discussion. Rhiannon reasons that since none of you can be with them in the future anyways, what use is there harboring any jealousy? Someone else, in the real world, will have them after you.  

Allie agrees, saying you’re all just a blip on the radar of their life, which hurts to hear, but is a fact. She digs deeper by stating that they’ll go on and forget about all of you.

Charlotte chimes in that the SKZ house has presented a once in a lifetime opportunity. A house full of undeniably attractive men that you all get to experiment and discover yourselves with without any judgment.

Unfortunately, you cannot deny any of their logic.

Sunday afternoon, the house is abuzz as you and the girls shuffle your belongings around. You make a stop in Chan’s room to grab your linen. You make a beeline for your bed, pull the sheets off the mattress and bundle them up with the pillows and all. You hold them close to your face on your way out, obstructing your view of him. It’s less painful when you don’t look at him.

You throw your sheets in the washing machine then head back up to Hyunjin’s room to get your clothes. You take enough outfits and underwear to last throughout your time away. Before you depart, Hyunjin kisses you and tells you that you’ll always be his favorite, to which you roll your eyes.

The idea of Hyunjin being with Allie doesn’t bother you as much as you thought. He’s a lover, through and through. And Allie’s a sweetheart—all the girls are—and she should experience what it’s like to have a man spoil a woman the way Hyunjin can. You know he can do those things with her without any inhibitions, and it doesn’t mean he cares for you any less.

Chan on the other hand…

No. You don’t want to imagine him doing the things you’ve done together with anyone else. It has to happen, you know that, but you can push the thoughts out of your mind any time they surface. You will have to tell yourself it’s for the greater good or some bullshit like that.

You choose to stay with Seungmin tonight, since it’s Sunday. Although Changbin would be an entertaining distraction, you feel closer to Seungmin. You also feel that with the rapport between you two, he’ll be less likely to make a move on you. You don’t know if you’ll be ready for that in week one…or even week two.

When you first walk into his room on the second floor, it’s brighter and cleaner than you expected. Like, pristinely clean—everything properly in its place. Not a gym bag or dirty sock in sight. His bed is against the wall with two windows on either side, overlooking the front yard. Your twin bed is to the side of his.  

You can’t shake how weird it feels being in his room…to be bringing your belongings in here. As you finish putting your sheets on the bed next to his, you hear a knock at the door. You turn around to see Seungmin sauntering in with his new, short haircut and a smile on his face. 

“Welcome,” he greets. “You have enough room for everything?”

“Yeah…Rhi cleared out a drawer for me.”

“Good. Make yourself at home…get comfortable.”

“Comfortable with the idea of being passed around between you guys?” you scoff.

“I didn’t say it like that. Do you not want to be here with me?” he asks blatantly, walking towards you.

He comes to a stop in front of you and you instinctively take a small step back. You’ve never been this close to him before. In a bedroom. His bedroom. He wraps his arm around you, placing his palm against the small of your back. He pulls you closer to him and your breath catches in your throat at the sudden move.

“I don’t know,” you manage to get out.

You can see so much of his face now that he’s cut his hair. There’s no denying that he’s handsome, attractive even. Your body feels flushed all over, but you can’t tell if it’s from the proximity or something else. His dark brown eyes meet yours, reading you for a moment, gauging your reaction. Can he sense your apprehension?

“The separation is meant to be a lesson,” he tells you. 

“A lesson in detachment?”

“It teaches us that the work towards our futures outweigh any joy, pain or sadness we may feel or experience in the present.”

You don’t like the way he recites that as if it’s been drilled into his head from a young age.

“Does my hand here make you uncomfortable?” He draws your attention back to how close the two of you are standing. He presses his hand harder against the small of your back.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. 

“You don’t know a lot apparently,” he teases as he drops his hand. He turns around to walk to his bed. “We have time to figure it out, though.”

“What if I’m simply not attracted to you in that way?”

He sits on his bed, facing you, and cocks his head to the side. A crooked smile plays out on his lips as if what you just said is ludicrous. 

“Sometimes attraction can grow,” he answers. “You just have to be open to it.”

“What if I don’t want to be?”

He’s silent for a while. When he responds, his tone is compassionate.

“Then you’re setting yourself up for a lot of pain at the end of this semester, y/n.”

He doesn’t mean to hurt you with what he says. You know that. None of them do when they’re simply stating the facts of the situation. However, they’ve had much longer to come to terms with this than you.

“I know…you’re right.”

“Don’t stress yourself out over it,” he shrugs. “This rotation isn’t only about physical attraction. We don’t want just sex from our assignees. It’s more than that. You can connect with multiple people in multiple ways and still find value in the differences.”

You remember how Hyunjin explained everything from his perspective at the start of all this. Seungmin seems to have his own take on it, too.

“So, you won’t hate me if we don’t fuck?”

He laughs.

“No. But I do sleep better at night when I’m holding someone.”

You chew on the inside of your bottom lip, mulling it over.

“I can maybe agree to that. Maybe.”

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You grab the pillow from your bed and throw it at his face.

The first time you see Hyunjin and Allie together is a little jarring, but not upsetting. They’re sitting next to each other on the couch, his arm is draped around her shoulder. Allie seems comfortable with him, as you expected. He has a natural way of putting people at ease. He winks at you, and you feel yourself smiling in return.

You don’t see much of Chan, except in passing or if he decides to have dinner at the table with everyone. You haven’t spoken to each other since that day in the hallway. You wish you could say the heat you feel whenever he’s near is burning out, that it feels cold between the two of you, but it’s the exact opposite.

It's hardly working.

Your first two nights with Seungmin, you sleep in your own bed. You two stay up talking about the most random things. On your last night with him for the first week, you climb into his bed with him and bring your own blanket.

“Really?” He remarks as you crawl towards him.

“Take it or leave it,” you reply.

“I’ll take it,” he concedes.

He waits for you to get situated, then cuddles up behind you. There’s enough blanket material between you, though, so you can hardly feel where his body is pressed against yours. You let out a breath and try to relax. Laying like this, you’re not uncomfortable with him, which is a relief. It doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily, but it doesn’t feel quite right either.

“So,” he says quietly. “I’ve decided on my useless superpower.”

“Worse than being able to teleport only an inch at a time?”

You’re starting to enjoy your nightly nonsensical conversations. It’s a nice change of pace. You can unwind from the day with the unseriousness of it all.

“I can identify any poison—even if it’s tasteless or odorless. But I have to ingest it.”

“And are you immune to it?”

“No. I’d die.”

Your body shakes with laughter. He chuckles behind you and pulls you closer to him.

Thursday, February 8th is Jeongin’s birthday and your first night with Changbin. You take a few of your things to his room on the third floor, down the hall from Chan. His room is just as you expected. A little messy, but he calls it organized chaos. After you put your things away, you both go down to the basement to join the others.

As you reach the last few steps, you immediately catch sight of Chan sitting at the bar. His back is towards you and he has a drink in front of him. He looks over his shoulder and your eyes lock for a brief moment, but you quickly avert your gaze.

“What’re you drinking?” Changbin asks.

“Whatever you’re having,” you shrug.

“That’s my girl,” he grins, walking behind the bar to pour you both drinks.

Chan knocks back the brown liquid in his glass and refills his cup.

You slip past him, trying to ignore how erratic your pulse becomes, and make your way to the back area of the basement. The TV is on and karaoke mics have been connected to it. The lyrics to the song are displayed on screen, but Jeongin and Seungmin know the words by heart as they face the ‘audience’ and belt their adorable little hearts.

You take a seat on the couch and let your eyes roam around the room; everyone is in their mixed-up pairings. Charlotte is sat between Felix and Lee Know in deep conversation. Rhiannon, now with Jeongin and Han, is seated in Han’s lap, watching the performance. You don’t see Hyunjin and Allie though.

Changbin sits next to you and passes the drink he made. You take a sip and make a repulsed face.

“It’s my special concoction,” he beams.

“It tastes like death.”

“Only the strong can handle it,” he taps his cup against yours before taking a drink.

You take another sip and grimace.

Felix and Charlotte are next up on the mics. They do a hilariously horrible rendition of ‘Summer Lovin’’ from Grease, but you cheer them on anyway. Changbin wraps his arm around you as you both watch and sing along. The more time that passes and the emptier your cup gets, the easier it is to relax against him. And you can’t lie, for as buff as he is, he’s oddly soft and comfortable to lay on.

You nudge Changbin to go when the mic is free.

“I’ll show you how it’s done,” he says. “This is a crowd pleaser—this one is for you, y/n.”

He queues up his song and as soon as the beat starts playing, you can’t hold yourself together. He chose ‘Run the World (Girls)’, by Beyonce and his performance does not disappoint—accompanied by dance moves and all.

Hyunjin and Allie come into the basement then and Hyunjin falls to the floor in laughter. Changbin doesn’t miss a beat and keeps putting on the show of a lifetime. You glance behind you; Chan is still seated at the bar and even he has a small smile on his face.

“Who’s next?” Han asks when he and Lee Know finish singing ‘Take On Me’ by a-ha.

“Chan-hyung” Jeongin shouts and points at him.

You look behind you and Chan is adamantly shaking his head.

“For my birthday,” Jeongin adds to guilt trip him. “Stop being boring and old.”

Lee Know stalks over to Chan, grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the room with everyone else. Chan takes the mic from Lee Know and lets out a sigh. With him in front of you, you feel yourself inch away from Changbin the slightest bit.

“For your birthday,” he agrees, clearing his throat. “What do you wanna hear?”

“That new song you were finishing up last week,” Jeongin says.

“No, not that,” Chan scrunches up his face and shakes his head. You notice him wobble a bit with the motion and wonder how much he’s had to drink.

Jeongin stands from the couch and connects his phone to the karaoke speaker.

“Yes, that. It’s my birthday.”

The song starts to play, and Chan is facing the TV, though no lyrics appear on screen. The sound of his vocals surprises you. You heard the song from their chapter project, but this sounds so different. His voice comes out passionate and effortless all at once. And the lyrics. You can’t help but hang on to every word that comes out of his mouth.

“We’re pulling at each other like magnets, the rules are telling us to ignore them.”

He was working on this last week?

“All that I want is you, even if I’m a fool. Why do I fall for you? No turning back once we’re connected.”

He turns around to face everyone as he continues singing. His eyes land on you and you set your cup down. A weird feeling is growing in the pit of your stomach, making you feel uneasy and nauseous. Thankfully, he doesn’t stare at you long enough to draw attention.

When the song is over everyone claps and Jeongin thanks him with a hug. He accepts the embrace, hugging him back, before making his way back to his lonely seat at the bar.

Rhiannon drags you up next and you agree to do ‘All About That Bass’. If it weren’t for her at your side, you’d be absolutely mortified. But you’re having a good time, it takes your mind off the previous performance. Towards the end of the song, though, you spot Allie next to Chan at the bar. She’s standing between his legs, one arm on his shoulder and he has one on her waist. You wonder what they’re talking about. You can’t help it.

You turn away from them and stare at the lyrics on the screen, even though you don’t need to read them. It’s just easier to look at right now.

When the song is over, Hyunjin takes his turn—doing ‘Versace on the Floor’ by Bruno Mars. Changbin acts as though Hyunjin is singing specifically to him throughout the performance.

The next time you look behind you, Chan and Allie are gone.

It’s nearly one in the morning when everyone else starts to disperse. You and a stumbling Changbin return to his room. You notice Chan on the couch in the living room, but he doesn’t say anything to anyone as you all pass by.

“Only the strong can handle it, huh?” You say to Changbin when you enter his room.

You only had one cup—you lost count of how many he had. Too many, judging by the way he’s struggling to remain upright and take off his belt at the same time.

“Here, let me,” you say, going to help him. “Be still.”

He drops his hands and lets you unbuckle his belt. Once you have it off, he immediately begins to unbutton his pants. You shake your head and turn around, not wanting to see him accidentally expose himself. You hear his pants hit the ground, then the sound of him falling onto his mattress.

“The room is spinning,” his voice is muffled.

You retrieve his water bottle from his desk and take it to him on the bed. You help him get beneath his blankets before making him drink from the water bottle. When you move to stand, his arms lock around your waist.

“Can you play with my hair?”

Of all the men in the house to want to be babied—you would not have guessed it to be him.

“Drink some more first,” you tell him.

He does as he’s told, and you position yourself on the bed with your back up against the pillows. He nestles his head into your lap, and you stroke his soft, dark locks. It doesn’t take long for him to doze off.

You slip away from him and change into your pajamas before heading back downstairs to get water for yourself.

On the first floor, you see Chan in the living room. He’s still sitting on the couch; the TV is still on but now muted. He turns to look at you. You keep your eyes locked in front of you and continue into the kitchen. Of course, there aren’t any more water bottles in the fridge when you check there first. At least it means everyone was staying hydrated tonight.

You go to the pantry and retrieve as many water bottles as you can hold at once. When you turn to exit, Chan is standing in front of you. He reaches for your waist and pulls you against him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asks huskily, eyes dark and glazed over.

[ read chapter 23 here ]

a/n: i won't make you wait too long for chapter 23, it's already complete. it's chan's POV and will rehash some of the things we saw here, and then pick up where this ends! i'm sooooo excited for you all to read it.

[haikyu-mp4]

Cousin

word count; 466 – gn!reader

“I have a cousin too, you know,” Komori said as if it was the most attractive thing about him.

It was funny how your sarcastically concerned face looked so similar to Suna’s at that moment. One of your shared grandparents must be particularly judgy.

“Congrats,” you answered, humouring him briefly before turning back to the court, not noticing how Suna squinted suspiciously at his teammate.

“You’re being weird,” Suna mumbled. “More than usual.” Then he turned the same way you had, watching where the rest of the team was warming up.

Komori ignored Suna in favour of leaning forward to catch your attention again. “Why are you in town? I haven’t seen you around before.”

You glanced at him, smiling slightly, perhaps just to be polite. “For a job interview. Rin said I could stay over, so I came straight from the train station.”

“What do you do for work?”

And oh boy, was that the right question to ask. When you realised Komori was genuinely interested, you fell into a rant about all aspects of your job and the company you hoped would hire you. You went as far as asking Suna to switch seats before just squeezing in between and pushing the much taller middle blocker aside when he refused. Komori’s cheeks were slightly pink as you did, but it blended in well with his smile.

“That’s so cool, they have to hire you!” he cheered, gesturing excitedly with his hands.

“I hope so!” A couple of minutes ago, Suna had left your side to get back into practice, seeing as you were well entertained by someone else.

“Have you ever played volleyball?” he asked, switching the topic and pointing towards the area of the court where Suna was lazily receiving spikes from Washio.

“Proud libero,” you answered with your chin raised. “Me and Stinky over there made a pretty great team for two-on-twos back in the day.”

Komori wondered if his quickened heartbeat reflected in his eyes because you were so… perfect. He knew Suna was glaring daggers at him every so often, but he couldn’t help it. Coach wasn’t there today and the captain seemed to not notice Komori’s lack of participation or simply didn’t care.

“I can imagine. I totally know how much work covering for him can be-”

As Komori chuckled, Suna smacked him over the head with a towel before picking up his water bottle. “Stop flirting with my cousin and do your job. We’re doing serve receives.”

“Duty calls,” he said, stretching his arms as he stood up before turning back to you. “Mind if I join you for dinner after practice?”

To Suna’s horrifying realisation, your ears were burning in a hue that matched Komori’s cheeks. “That sounds nice.”

Suna sighed. At least it’s not a Miya.

masterlist

[stuffeddeer]

Dazai didn't mind you playing with his hand. In fact, he kind of liked the attention and care you seemed to be showing him, even if it was just towards one appendage. Light tugging and pushing on fingers, delicately tracing his knuckles and the scars littering the back, and even occasionally lacing your fingers with his for a moment — Dazai was happy to let you do it all. To think hands that have previously participated in such horrid acts could be treated so gently made butterflies erupt in his tummy.

He let you do whatever (having trouble saying no to you) while he wasted time rereading his book. You'd pull his hand to your face sporadically through your time playing with it, so it never caused Dazai any alarm. Sometimes you would inspect it closely, sometimes you'd drag his calloused fingertips along your cheek just to see if the degree of toughness had changed, but his favorite was when you'd press a tiny kiss to his palm. Usually that meant playtime was over — soon you'd drop his hand onto his lap and scurry away. Even knowing it brought about the end of his favorite time with you, the tingly feeling of your lips on his skin lingering long after you'd leave made it worth it. All this to say, Dazai was used to you tugging his hand up towards his face, bringing it closer to your mouth. He had to work overtime to keep his heartbeat steady, certain of what was to come next, when...

"Ow!"

It was hard to catch Dazai off guard. You weren't even trying, you just... Well, you wanted to see what would happen.

"Did you just bite me?" He couldn't help the amused (his coworkers would say smitten) smile on his lips as he turned to look at you.

You turned to him with wide doe eyes, a deer caught in headlights as you seemed unaware you had even done something wrong. Timidly, you press a tiny, chaste kiss to the tip of his middle finger — the same finger you'd gently bitten the top of moments prior.

"Mmh... Sorry, Dazai." Your words were languid, gently squeezing his hand before dropping it out of your hold.

Dazai wanted to pout, to say 'you forgot my kiss' while pointing to his palm, but he was too focused on his middle finger — the tingling of where you kissed him and the warmth of your mouth he'd felt around his fingertip for a fleeting moment. As you shuffled beside him, preparing to stand up, his hand shot out to grip yours.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The smirk on his face told you he wasn't too upset by your impulsive action, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Um, away..?"

A grin spanned across his face as he leaned closer. "Not before my payback, you aren't."

Losing distance, his mouth opened slowly until his head stopped just over your shoulder. "I require penance, you know," he mumbled before biting down onto the soft skin.

[mononijikayu]

kinktober 2024 — kayu's version.

Satoru's grin softens as he looks at you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes are filled with something tender and deep, a look that makes your heart swell with affection.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss that seems to say everything he can't put into words. His hands are gentle as they explore your body, tracing every curve, every line, as if memorizing you by touch alone.

He pulls back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion. "And tonight… tonight is all about you."

K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 4 —

K A Y U ' S V E R S I O N

hello, this is kayu!!!

i write to you all as i prepare for my first ever participation with kinktober!!! its quite exciting and thrilling and i am just so happy to be able to finally be a part of a new world.

a lot of what im writing is going to be only for 18 and above and as such not safe for work. i hope my dear readers understand that this means that if you are not 18 and above — do not yet read. i will have safe for work content in between these periods. please read those!!!

in any case, i am most excited to share with you the things ive been working on for all of you. im very happy with how these stories are so far and im sure by the time they are finished — they'll be something ill be most proud of.

kinktober may seem like a quite an odd concept to some but its exciting to express a horizon of expression in a different way. and im excited to express stories that will be a different shade of me once again. i hope you enjoy them!!! i love you all!!! see you in october!!!

xoxoxoxo kayu

W H A T ' S C O O K I N G ! ?

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●OCTOBER 4TH 2024

♡ SINGER SUKUNA X SINGER READER

( e l a b o r a t e r o l e p l a y )

♯┆ why are you obsessed with me .ᐟ

— ryomen sukuna.

— no one knew how the feud of the bands started but people were here for it regardless. sukuna liked to push your buttons, you liked to push his. and really, it didn't matter. because he was here. and you were fun.

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●OCTOBER 11TH 2024

♡ PRIEST SUGURU X WIDOW READER

( f o r b i d d e n d a l l i a n c e )

♯┆ devotion .ᐟ

— geto suguru

— twenty years passed and you moved towns with your husband, to try and forget geto suguru, your lover turned priest. now you're a widow and after all that time, your heartbeats at the sight of father geto suguru, the town's priest.

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● OCTOBER 18TH 2024

♡ HUSBAND NANAMI X READER

( m a k e u p — c a r f u c k )

♯┆right people, wrong place .ᐟ

— nanami kento.

— you and your husband nanami kento have been estranged for a while. it was hard, hard to fathom that you and him would be separating, that he would choose duty over you. even when you drink, its his name you call to pick you up tonight.

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●OCTOBER 25TH 2024

♡ GOJO SATORU X WIFE READER

( f i r s t t i m e )

♯┆honeymoon .ᐟ

— gojo satoru

— arranged marriages are hard, even when you're the one who made it happen. after years of marriage (and subsequently falling in love), the two of you finally decide to go and embark on a honeymoon.

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●OCTOBER 31ST 2024

♡ FUSHIGURO TOJI X WIFE READER

( b r e e d i n g k i n k )

♯┆pillowtalk .ᐟ

— fushiguro toji

— if fushiguro toji was being honest, he'd always wanted a big family. after living a rather painful life in a loveless family, he wants to build a big, warm home. looking at it now, megumi's almost a year old. a new sibling in close age would be good, doesn't it?

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C O M I N G S O O N ! ?