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gomapda · 5 months ago

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sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 2)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here! | side B (part 1) found here!

author's note:

part two of side b!

the final installment.

it's been a long journey to get here, and any messages or words i read in the tags of the reblogs were a source of comfort for me during these times. i'm glad that my words resonated with even just one of you.

and of course, thank you for being here.

✧��°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

“Noona, I need help.”

Immediately, the older girl closed the book she was reading, a young adult romance novel and turned her attention to him. “You never ask for my help. What’s going on?”

“I�� I like Y/N.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Jihoon balked. “What? Does everyone know this already?”

“Y/N doesn’t.”

He groaned loudly.

“Are you finally wanting to tell her?”

“I mean, yeah. I—I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I got just the thing for you, Jihoonie.”

Jihoon spent his time trying to come up with some elaborate and dramatic confession (per the advice of his noona). They sat in cafes, picking out different foods that the two of them knew you’d enjoy, scoping out different restaurants, going to the library and her handing him too many romance novels.

After a few weeks, “Noona, you sure this is going to work?”

“Nope.”

“What?! Then why am I doing this?”

“I was just curious to see how much you were willing to do for her. She deserves nothing less than the best, you know,” the girl grinned, now revealing her mischievous side, one that he has never seen before. “Jihoon, you really think that she’s going to want anything that’s a grand gesture?”

“Well. No, but I thought you would know her—”

“Jihoonie, there’s no one that knows her better than you, I think. You probably know her and see her for how she really is. More than she can see herself. All you have to do is just tell her the truth. That’s it.”

“…this was a waste of time.”

She hummed. “Hm, nothing came up for you?”

“What do you mean?”

He could see that she was fidgeting with her fingers. She let out a nervous laugh as she said, “I actually wanted to see whether you still liked me. Whether spending time with me was going to change your mind. Not that I wanted it to! But I didn’t want you to be wishy-washy. She needs stability. She’s already chaotic on her own.”

“You knew I liked you?”

“Just a tiny bit.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Would you have given me a chance?”

“Would you have tried?”

The two of them sat there for a moment, mulling over the weight of the words said between them. But they both knew that there was someone else in their lives who mattered more, who they truly yearned for. If Jihoon and his noona ever pursued something, it would’ve just been them trying to find comfort in each other because they couldn’t have who they wished for. They would’ve tried to shape each other to fit the missing puzzle piece, losing the essence of themselves.

Jihoon and his noona were only mere reflections of who they actually wanted, the illusion created because of how much time was spent together. And that image would’ve faded fast.

“No, I don’t think I would have.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Good luck with him.”

“Yeah… good luck with her. It’ll work out.”

──────────────────

Plenty of people could say that his noona was childish, that she should have picked another route to go down. That it all could’ve been left unsaid. But Jihoon was grateful for her choice to do what she did. Because you didn’t deserve that “what if?”. Neither did he. You both needed to be sure.

And he felt it, walking into the restaurant.

He immediately recognized you, even with your head down. He was so used to seeing you from afar that this was a sight that was unfortunately so familiar to him. He walked forward in hopes of closing the distance between the two of you.

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin said, frantically.

Jihoon held back his laughter, the sight of his hyung flustered a rare occurrence. “Hey, hyung.”

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

He could see that her eyes were screaming: save us. Jihoon wondered if he’d be able to. “Hi, noona.”

Ah, there you went.

Your eyes finally met his.

God, so beautiful.

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

Jihoon was startled. Since when did you curse? And the fuck word too? But it must be a new development considering the other two were making a huge commotion over it. But even in the midst of chastising, you didn’t break eye contact.

“It’s been a while.”

You blinked. “Um. Yes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. This was happening.

His brilliant and warm and fiery sun.

The reason behind why his own light exists.

His guide, his inspiration, his hope.

His firefly.

Close enough to reach out and catch.

But not quite yet.

“So, are you all done eating?”

“No, not even close! Only ordered one pajeon, but feel free to order anything that you want! Oppa will be covering,” his noona responded as she motioned for him to take the seat next to you. He did and immediately felt you tense up beside him. Jihoon mentally cursed at himself. He should’ve asked.

He decided to lean back in his chair to try to mimic the body language he hoped from you: relaxed. “Hyung’s the best.”

“One day, I’ll make you spend that idol money of yours.”

“Alright, it’s a deal.”

You must have recovered from your shock, since you piped up with a, “Wait. Shouldn’t you be careful about eating out? What if someone sees you here? Couldn’t something happen?”

Aw, you were worried for him. “This is a restaurant that’s frequented by SEVENTEEN. This specific table is so far removed in the corner that it’d be hard to get a good look at my face, especially since my back’s to them.”

You looked around and scanned the area, probably noticing the boisterous environment of hweshiks overpowering the casual dining you were partaking in. “Hm. Okay…”

“You worried about me?”

“No, I’m worried I’m going to end up in Dispatch with message requests from sasaeng fans.”

Jihoon felt the color drain from his face. “If you’re uncomfortable with me being here—”

You immediately shook your head. “That was a joke, I guess it was too serious of a reality for it to seem like one. Jihoon, thanks, really. But I’m scary good at ignoring people. Uh… I’m… I’m glad that you’re here. Seriously.” You paused for a moment, probably noticing the tension that he was too aware of. “Because we’re with two weakass eaters so it’s up to us to finish the job. Will you join me on our noble mission?”

He snorted out a ‘yes’ and the table laughed. Your cousin brought up a time where you were crying because you hated wasting food but the dish was too spicy but you were too stubborn to stop eating. You quickly reminded him that he was the one who tapped out first and left a 9-year-old to solve the issue (“Wouldn’t have been a problem for me if you didn’t create one, oppa!”). The four of you spent more time catching up than thinking about what to order until you were all brought back into the reality that you were at a restaurant and ordered nothing but a pajeon and drinks.

The older two let you and Jihoon decide, as you were both pickier eaters than they were. Once the food arrived, you fell into a rhythm of years’ practice. You pushed your portion of fish and beef onto his plate and he pushed his portion of bean sprouts and japchae onto yours. You both split the pork belly serving evenly between the two of you.

His arm would (accidentally) brush against yours but none of the tension remained from earlier. You didn’t retract, you didn’t run away. In fact, you poked his arm for his attention midway in the conversation and he never thought such a small thing could evoke such happiness.

──────────────────

Physical touch was never something that Jihoon craved. In fact, in most cases, he felt negatively towards it. So, the experience of being touch-starved was not something he knew anything about.

That is, until you were gone for two weeks at an academic competition.

Why the hell was an academic competition half a month? And during summer break? What did they expect middle schoolers to do? Solve world hunger with pi? (The number, not the food.)

You were spending your school vacation for the sake of more school.

What a stupid concept.

And you were on the same team as Baek Yunho, the star player of the baseball team and chemistry league. Jihoon saw the way that Yunho would try to come up to you after a game, but you only ever made a beeline towards Jihoon.

He didn’t realize just how much the two of you gravitated towards each other. Between class periods, he’d pinch your nose or flick your forehead or you would attempt to bring him to his knees by pushing your own into the back of his and fail miserably and he would roundhouse kick you in response. If the two of you had the time, you would go over to his house and dig your toes into his ribcage when he totally owned you during a game of Super Smash Bros. And during the summer, usually, you would be sprawled over him, back to back, as he would watch anime or play games on his phone and you would read your summer reading list.

But normal people wouldn’t consider that physical touch.

And yet here he was, genuinely touch-starved, because you were in Daegu with a whole seven days left.

He grumbled under his breath. Another day has gone by without seeing Baek Yunho during practice which meant another day that you were gone. Something that occupied his mind, as he opened the door to his bedroom, swinging his baseball bag onto his bed.

And he heard a loud, “ow!”

He saw you rubbing your knee on his bed, with a pout on your face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

That’s one way to say he missed you.

“I came back from my competition today to apparently get assaulted by my best friend.”

“I thought it was two weeks long.”

“The whole thing is, but I opted out of the award ceremony. Plus, I only competed in the writing and foreign language portion because that’s all they needed me for, which all happened in the first week.”

Jihoon’s mind didn’t catch up with his body as he reached for you. You yelped and threw a pillow at him, “Ew. No, you just got back from practice and you’re sweaty!”

“Firefly, you’re missing out on a rare opportunity.”

You paused for a moment, possibly recalling all the times he’s rejected a hug from you and realizing this indeed was very rare. “Can you at least wipe off your sweat?”

“Nope, not at all,” Jihoon snickered.

It was now a competition to see who would be the faster one, you rushing for the door or his arms. And of course, the athlete that he is, Jihoon won.

“You smell like the sun! Stop!”

He decidedly rubbed his neck into the shoulder of your shirt and you did your best to wiggle away, but failed. Your look of disdain was met with Jihoon’s satisfied one. “Lee Jihoon, you’re the worst.”

“I’m glad my punching bag is back.”

You pushed his hair back only to immediately retract. “Ugh! How does so much sweat just come out of you?”

“Does it matter when I have a towel right here?”

You pinched his ear as he pushed his sweaty forehead against the other shoulder of your shirt. You burst into a fit of giggles when he found your ticklish spot in the middle of your thigh, but soon enough, your ankle found purchase around his and pushed him onto the ground as you clambered away and into his closet, probably to find a shirt to change into.

He was left there on his bedroom floor, listening to your ramblings about his sweat, almost deliriously happy.

He was satisfied, no longer a starving man.

──────────────────

After the food was finished (thanks to the two of you), the four of you walked out of the restaurant, the couple saying they were so full they wanted to walk it off on the way to their hotel. They offered for the two of you to join them but you declined, saying the hotel was in the opposite direction of your home.

Your cousin felt uneasy leaving you to walk home on your own. But you pointed at Jihoon with your thumb and said, “Jihoonie can walk me home, if you’re so worried. But even if he can’t, I’ve lived here long enough. This isn’t anything new.”

As if your cousin completely ignored the latter half of what you said, he glanced at Jihoon who gave a quick nod. “I’ll walk her home. Don’t worry. Then I’ll take a taxi back myself.”

After much long-winded convincing, the two headed off to the hotel while you and him were left walking down the street, his own face masked up and covered with a baseball hat in case of anything.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home.”

“I’d like to, if that’s alright with you.”

He noticed you adjusting the hem of your shirt. “Okay. It’s a little bit of a walk from here. Maybe 30 to 40 minutes or so.”

“That’s 30 to 40 minutes I’d like to spend with you.”

“…yeah. I’d like that too.”

This felt almost surreal. You by his side.

But also so natural, almost inevitable.

As if this was all just waiting to happen.

After a moment’s pause, you asked him what he was doing for the coming months, if there were any plans.

“There’s a concert that Bumzu’s holding in Busan, and he’s asking some SEVENTEEN members to perform, so I’ll be doing a solo piece for that one.”

“Oh, SIMPLE?”

You immediately made a face as if you got caught admitting something embarrassing and Jihoon grinned. “Ah, you know my solo song?”

“Hm. Maybe…” You trailed off, looking everywhere but at him.

Cute.

“It might’ve possibly made it as my top song of the year in 2016.”

Agh, even cuter. “I’ll tell Yoon Jeonghan that he’s not actually your bias and you’re actually a Woozidan.”

“You can call me a Woozidan, you’d just be exceedingly and astronomically incorrect, like always. Unlike me, who is right, quite literally 100% of the time.”

Jihoon laughed. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m one of the brains in SEVENTEEN, alright?”

“That’s because you were forged in the fire that was your friendship with me. Of having to deal with my illogical thinking.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth.”

The mood between the two of you was solid and Jihoon felt his resolve flare up within him, gathering the courage to ask, “If I invited you to Bumzu’s concert, would you go?”

“Oh. The one in Busan?”

“Yes.”

“Uh. When is it? I’m supposed to start work in three weeks.”

He wondered how big of a Carat you were because he knew that most would jump at the opportunity, but he felt oddly reassured that you weren’t a fan who would shirk on your responsibilities. “It’s in two weeks. You can… uh, bring Hyejin?”

You blinked up at him. “You know her?”

“She, uh, is always on your Instagram.”

“That’s very sweet of you and she’s gonna freak out that you know her, but she’s actually going to be in Jeonju that entire week with Wheein-unnie because they’re visiting their family. And then none of my other friends know about me knowing you. But. You know what? What kind of Carat would I be if I turned down this offer?”

Great minds think alike. “So… I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you will. I’ll sing the chorus of SIMPLE so loud I’ll overpower even your vocals.”

“You know, I never said I was singing SIMPLE.”

“Oh, what? What are you singing then?”

Jihoon grinned. “Guess you’ll have to come and find out.”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow, what an idol. Using your charm to convince me to use up my time and money.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“Enough that my wallet is in constant danger.”

“You know, I can always give you free things.”

“It’s okay. Buying your albums and merchandise and concert tickets have been the only way I can support you. And, well, I did promise I would be your number one fan.”

“‘S alright. That’s all in the past.”

Jihoon noticed you flinching at those words. Your voice was barely above a whisper, “…Is it really all in the past? It’s not that simple, is it, Jihoonie?”

He remained silent.

So did you.

You both walked, the evening stroll accompanied only by the artificial lights of the city, the sun having long since gone to rest and the light of the moon nowhere to be found.

You reached the doorstep of your apartment and you turned back to face him. “I think… We probably have a lot to talk about. But maybe the timing is off right now. I know I need to sort myself out, if that’s okay? I’m trying to do this thing where I think before I talk instead of just diving in and regretting something, you know?”

Jihoon nodded. He was all too familiar with that.

“But I just want to let you know that I still want to be a part of your life. And we can navigate how that will look like when we’re both not caught up in living our lives. Is… is that okay?”

He wanted to cry. “More than that.”

You smiled. “I’ll see you at the concert, Jihoonie.”

“I’ll see you, firefly.”

──────────────────

After that night, he was thrown back into his and SEVENTEEN’s work. Outside of Bumzu’s concert, they were working on their next album, aiming to release it in just two months, the theme centered around a youthful infatuation blossoming into a mature love.

He wondered what you would think of it.

One night, he was in his studio with Soonyoung again who looked over Jihoon’s latest solo for Bumzu’s concert.

“Jihoon, this is the saddest shit I’ve ever read.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Are you sure that this is what you’re wanting to perform? That this is what you want her to hear? In front of hundreds of people?”

“It’s… the most honest I can be. Yeah, it could scare her off. But I don’t think we can keep moving forward without addressing what happened between us. But I didn’t make this song to make her feel bad. I made it so I could let go of the pain I associate with the old her to be able to make space for the new her, you know what I mean?”

Soonyoung spared no expression. “Whatever you think is best, Hoon.”

“I’m just going to take a leap of faith,” Jihoon sighed. There really was no predicting exactly how things would turn out. You were different, he was different. There were too many unknown variables with the situation. “Hopefully she’ll be there to catch me.”

“Mm.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m thinking about how you’re going to be singing a ballad, pouring your true and genuine feelings, and I’ll be performing Hurricane in a tiger print shirt.”

Jihoon paused for a moment. “Duality of SEVENTEEN.”

──────────────────

You must have also been busy, as the only notification he got from you was on the day of the concert. It was a selfie of you at a gas station in the wee hours of the morning, no doubt filling your tank before your 4 and a half hour car ride, with a message saying, “i’m on my way to you! fueled by overpriced gas and cheap snacks!”

You were on your way. To him.

There was an electricity that was coursing through him that went beyond just nerves before a show. No, there was so much more riding on this, and as much as he wants to believe and trust that everything would work out in some way or another, there is the deep part of him that yearns for it to work out for the best. The most ideal cut.

He pressed his hands against his chest, as he tried to mimic compression.

But there was just too much bursting out of him to truly contain.

“Jihoon-ah, you alright?”

He must have looked like a crazed man to Jeonghan because the latter had an incredulous look on his face as soon as they made eye contact. “Do I not seem alright?”

“No.”

“Hyung.”

Jeonghan let out a low chuckle and moved behind him to squeeze the shoulders of the stressed man. “It’s okay to hope, you know.”

“It feels like hope is the reason I can’t breathe right now. If it weren’t for hope, I wouldn’t care this much. If it weren’t for hope, I wouldn’t be in this position.”

“You’re right. You wouldn’t be. Without hope, you wouldn’t be in SEVENTEEN. You wouldn't have become an idol, be our unit’s leader, become a producer, written songs, or even had the chance to reconcile with her. All of what you are would’ve been impossible without hope”

Jihoon bit his lip. “I feel like I’m going crazy, hyung. I keep going back and forth between whether it’s worth it. I haven’t felt anxiety like this in years. I know that lo–love–” Jihoon realized he never said that word so directly about her. He always found more poetic ways to dance around the word. “–can be a lot of work. But this? It makes me think that it’s not meant to be. When I see her and when I’m with her, it feels so right. But when she’s not in front of me, I feel like the best thing to do is to just run away.”

“Yeah, but you ran away last time, right?”

“And I wouldn’t be in SEVENTEEN if I hadn’t.”

“But you’ve still pined after her for all these years.”

“Maybe that’s just me being stubborn.”

“Yeah, and? What about it?”

“What happens if I’m pining after her because I regret hurting someone I cared about, my best friend. What if I don’t actually love her–”

Jihoon’s voice caught in his throat.

Jeonghan answered in a low whisper, and Jihoon is sure that if he turned around, he would see pity in his older member’s eyes. “Jihoon–”

“No, I know,” he quickly cut him off, sighing. “Ridiculous notion. Hyung, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t understand myself at all. Just yesterday, I was talking a big game about how I needed to trust her and take a leap of faith and now it feels like I’m going back on it.”

“So, you don’t trust her?”

“That’s… not it.”

“Then what is it, Jihoon?”

“I… I can’t…”

“It’s just you and me here.”

Lee Jihoon and Yoon Jeonghan.

The very two people who were in that room together when that fateful encounter on social media occurred.

Yoon Jeonghan, the island of SEVENTEEN.

“What if she doesn’t love me back?”

Jeonghan felt Jihoon’s shoulders tremble underneath his grip. The older began to rub gentle circles and stood there in silence as the younger buried his face in his hands. “...She could.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“What if she does?”

“That’s not–”

“–How it works? Why are your worries more likely than your hope? Are they more logical? More based in reality? Listen, they’re all just thoughts driven by feelings. They both have an equal chance of happening, and yet you are convinced your worries are true. And maybe that’s your fault. Your fault because you keep suppressing your hope in fear of pain and rejection. So that later down the line, you can tell yourself that you knew it anyway. But guess what? This isn’t a game where you’re trying to come out of this as the least hurt.”

Jihoon felt lucky that Jeonghan couldn’t see his face.

“Just think of it as finally being able to let out the entire truth that you’ve been hiding for years, the truth that has been found in your lyrics, but is now finally going to reach the person you’ve hoped for so long that it would. She’ll be right there, listening to you. You’ve wanted it for so long. Don’t try to convince yourself all of a sudden that it’s not.”

“...Yeah.”

“Plus, they already have the line-up and backing vocals set up, so. It’s not like you can change it now. Go put your in-ear in. We’ll be in the audience. All of us.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“...I’m not sure if it means anything, but you’re a good man, Lee Jihoon. I’m proud of you.”

Jeonghan patted the younger’s shoulder before exiting the small space, leaving Jihoon to his own thoughts. Ones that no longer swirled over the possibility of pain or even the potential of reciprocation. Instead, he thought about his members. The ones he’s told he’s loved, both in teasing ways and genuine utterances.

And then he thought of you.

He’d like you to hear the same from him.

At least once.

(And hopefully more.)

──────────────────

Busan’s driving laws were nothing like the rest of Korea.

Luckily growing up in Busan, you were aware of the way that the drivers swerved in and out of lanes, making illegal (?) turns any chance they got. The flow of traffic in Busan is so aggressively different from Seoul, that it felt as though you had to flip a switch to reorient yourself into the version of you that learned how to first drive in Busan.

Not long after the person you were driving to see had stormed out of your home.

You sighed.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the concert.

It felt almost embarrassing how much you daydreamed over him potentially singing a song to you. The reality is dangerously close to overlapping with the delusion that you found yourself trying to literally shake away the thoughts.

But how could you not be a little hopeful?

The love of your life invited you to a concert, with him singing a solo song.

Maybe he’d confess–

The honk of the car behind you pulled you out of your thoughts. You groaned loudly, slapping your forehead. “Get it together, Y/N!”

Jihoon had told you to enter the concert hall through a certain entrance, and that you wouldn’t need to wait amongst the lines. He recommended waiting until everyone else was seated, so you would still have 20 minutes to kill before entering the venue.

You drove, mentally fighting yourself every kilometer of the way, until you finally reached the venue. You showed the badge that Jihoon had given you and was directed towards the back lot where staff parked. You cut the engine and sat there, attempting to calm yourself down.

You immediately get a request for FaceTime on your phone.

You answer it.

“Bumblebee!”

“Unnie, I can feel myself eroding away.”

Hyejin rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine.”

You heard Wheein’s voice in the background. “Is that Y/N?”

Hyejin answered, “Yeah. Wanna say something?”

Wheein popped into frame. You gave a weak wave. “Are you gonna confess today?”

“What? No. That wasn’t in the plan.”

“Okay? Then change the plan,” Wheein said, as though it was the most obvious thing.

“I just want to be friends.”

“Forever?” Wheein asked.

“For now,” Hyejin supplied.

You rolled your eyes. “Listen. All I know is that I want to be in his life, and whatever that looks like is still to be determined, alright?”

“But what do you want in the long run?”

“You know I can’t plan for the long-term. Let’s just take things day by day, alright?”

“Okay, but what if he confesses today?” Wheein asked.

“He won’t.”

“What if he does?”

“I–”

Hyejin tapped Wheein’s thigh off-camera. “She’ll handle it if it comes up. No matter what happens, we’ll be here to pick up your call, okay? Whether it be to sort out your feelings or to just fangirl about the concert. We’ll be here to listen to whatever you’re willing to share. There’s not much to do here in Jeonju anyway, so. Just hit us up.”

“Go eat Jeonju bibimbap.”

“We did,” they answered in unison.

You let out a short laugh. “Alright. Well. Regardless of everything, time will continue to pass. I’m going to just bask in the fact that I was invited by a member of my favorite idol group to watch his performance.”

“And that’s already cool as hell,” Wheein nodded.

The three of you chatted about their plans for the week while you did your best to focus on the conversation while still paying attention to the time left until the concert. Not long after, you bid them farewell to once again sit in silence in your car, pressing your hands against your chest.

It was time.

──────────────────

Bumzu’s concert started off as nothing less than spectacular.

You always admired his musical prowess, knowing that he was the one who helped Jihoon form his own identity as a producer and songwriter. Bumzu was a titan in his own right, his lyricism and musicality rivaling plenty of others in the field.

Although his talent is impeccable, the venue itself was small. His transition from performing towards writing and producing had a hand in influencing the number of tickets sold. You also realized belatedly that the concert wasn’t advertised to include the SEVENTEEN members that you were promised.

Regardless, it felt like such an intimate space, you were thankful for it.

You were in the upper gallery, away from the rest of the concert attendees. There wasn’t anyone else nearby you, and you assumed that would stay the case.

That is, until you heard someone sit right next to you.

You glanced over, not wanting to be overt in noticing them (although, Korean culture lends itself to staring at others outside of Seoul and Busan), and you felt your breath hitch.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I–yeah.”

“I recorded a video for you for your graduation,” the most beautifully ethereal man on this side of existence said. “Do you remember?”

“I–yeah.”

He flashed a brilliant grin. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

“I–yeah.”

“Congratulations on graduating.”

“I–” This time, his voice overlapped yours. “Yeah.”

You flushed. “Sorry. I’m just– I’m kind of taken aback.”

“I heard I was your favorite member, your bias.”

“Mm. That’s true.”

“Why is that the case?”

You paused for a moment, the vocals of Bumzu drowning out the sounds of your conversation. “They say that your bias is the one who’s most similar to you. And your bias wrecker is the one that you’d most likely want to date or be romantically involved with.”

“Oh, so, we’re similar?”

“In the way that we love others, I think? From what other members have said about you, the way that you love is both wide and deep. You love others in a way where you can be a home for them during times of hardship,” you said, sheepishly. It felt almost strange to claim you were as loving as you were, but. You knew yourself. You knew your heart. Even the bad parts. “Also, we both would cheat at games.”

“It’s the only way to play.”

“Winning is too easy otherwise,” you added.

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “Well. That makes me feel better.”

“That I cheat at games?”

“No. That you love in the same way that I do. Because if you love Jihoonie as much as I love him, I think I have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“I do.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at you. “I’m sorry?”

“I do love him,” you said, unhesitantly. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to tell one of Jihoon’s closest confidants this information. But, it wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t ever meant to be a secret. It was simply a fact. “There’s no way that I wouldn’t.”

“You… You haven’t doubted your feelings?”

This time you raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I? He’s easy to love.”

Jeonghan laughed. “You’re so right, Y/N. So. Is he your bias wrecker?”

“You mean the one that I want to date?”

“The very same.”

You saw the mischief in his eyes, and you felt yours bubble up inside. “I wonder.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you cheat at games, you don’t seem like a great liar.”

“Who said I was trying to?” You flashed him a toothy grin.

“It’s rather strange to see just how different the two of you are. And also, how human you seem. The way that he talks about you, you’d think otherwise.”

“Unfortunately, being human is all I know,” you said, trying to shove down the feeling of butterflies in your stomach at the mention of Jihoon speaking of you to his precious brothers.

Bumzu was now giving a ment, but you were still so focused on the man next to you.

He crossed his legs and looked out at the stage. He pursed his lips. “Y/N. He’s a bit of a handful sometimes, you know.”

“I’ve got two hands.”

He smirked at that. “Right. That you do. And if you and I really are similar, then. Well. I hope you really listen to what he has to say to you, even if it can be hard to hear. I hope you try to understand him even when he doesn’t make sense. And, of course, I hope you enjoy the rest of your life loving him.”

You felt some tears well up in your eyes. “I’ll try my best.”

Jeonghan looked at you softly and patted your knee. “That’s all I ask.”

He stood up and you gave a slight bow. He smiled and said, “Enjoy the show.”

Bumzu’s voice rang out: “And now, a special guest: WOOZI from SEVENTEEN.”

Your eyes snapped back towards the stage, barely noticing the figure of your bias move back out into the shadows of the concert hall. You were transfixed by the man walking out on stage, his pale skin glowing underneath the stage lights, his black collared shirt hanging loosely on his frame. The cheers could not distract you from the way he gripped and ungripped the microphone in his hand as he sat down on the stool.

He lifted the microphone to his lips and began speaking.

“Hello, everyone. I am SEVENTEEN’s WOOZI.”

His eyes were darting around, but only looking downwards, barely looking at the crowd. “Today, I’m going to sing a song that I’ve only ever sang once. Um. And that was by myself, in my studio. Not even the other members have heard it.”

The crowd were wowed at the prospect of hearing an entirely new song from a genius producer. Seeing the spotlight shine on him, you realize how bare he looked without his other members surrounding him. His vulnerability was amplified by the closer proximity of the space.

You knew he was the kind of person that would lessen the amount of lines he had solely to allow others to shine more. He wasn’t like the sun, the blazing fire that consumed the day. No, he was so much more like the moon, the one that would reflect others’ light, but in such a way that was never accosting.

Even on the stage in front of you, he glowed so ethereally, you wondered if he was always the fae that you believed lived near the winding tree at Old Man Park’s home. He was the guiding light in the midst of night, always present, but in a less overt way than its celestial partner.

The sun was stunning in its own right, life-giving, even, but the moon provided comfort to those who tread in the darkness.

And you’ve seen the way he has done just that.

Not just for you, but for millions around the world.

“This is, uh. A very personal song,” you couldn’t help but notice the way that his grip around his microphone tightened. “I’m not sure if many of you out there have been unsure about what the future holds. But, this song… captures that, I think. This is ‘What Kind of Future’.”

Your reaction to grab your phone to record was immediately cut off by the piano playing.

This… melody?

Your throat tightened. It sounded so similar to the lullaby he would sing–

As if nothing happened I told myself that it was all a dream. When I closed my eyes and opened them again, I wanted to wake up with a relief.

The melody was so familiar, but because of that, you could focus solely on the lyrics he sang.

Was this song… about you?

No, your mind supplied. Don’t be delusional.

But what if it was?

Your heart began to pound loudly in your ears, and you had to take deep breaths so as to not miss anything that he had to say.

Our past that didn't line up If I could go back in time Rather than roughly, but warmly Would I be able to let you go?

Your eyes widened.

You thought back to that moment in your house.

Could it be–?

When we weren't over As I held onto whatever was left You let go of me as I refused Although I don't wanna see you, I miss you Although I hate you, I miss you I don't understand myself so well

You immediately recall the desperation on his face and the hurt in his voice that you couldn’t see until it was too late. It was shrouded by his anger and your desire to look away. To run away. Because, to a teen on the cusp of adulthood, that was easier than being honest.

This waiting It's not easy to endure If I forget that someday As if nothing is wrong Our future will be empty and It's not that I want to forget you

You never wanted to forget him.

You couldn’t.

He surrounded you at every turn.

The best parts of you were things that you learned from him.

He softened your rough edges, quieted the inner criticisms, pacified the burning flames.

The idea of him never being a part of your life again was one that you could not fathom, even with all of your imagination. Because there was no way for the current you to exist without him. Not in a way that deemed him necessary, but in a way that his friendship, his love, for you shaped you into becoming someone you, yourself, learned to love as well.

Your future might have been filled with joy and happiness.

His, just as likely to.

But yours and his, as he said, our future, would be empty.

We were happy about us You, who isn't me anymore Although I don't wanna see you, I miss you Although I hate you, I miss you I don't understand myself so well

You tried to quell your tears as much as you could, in fear of missing even another moment with him. Because you realize now that the feelings you had were not one-sided. Of course, they couldn’t have been. The way that the two of you stuck by each other through thick and thin.

Why were you so adamant that it couldn’t be true?

What kind of future is coming before us? Even if the Heavens don't give us an answer I'm too stupid until the end So I don't know the answer

The love you had for each other was so simple.

It was so direct, so straight-forward.

But the two of you made it complicated.

Why?

You also didn’t have an answer.

The both of you, burdened by the decisions of the past, anxious about the potential of the future.

As his vocals rang out, as he cried out, the tears finally streamed down your warm cheeks. You buried your face into your hands, listening to his voice, but unable to withstand the sight of him holding his microphone with such gentle, yet firm, hands. The same ones that trembled at his side that fateful day. Your breath staggered as you wept for the past versions of you.

The ones who struggled and constantly questioned whether you were loved by the person you longed for. The ones who somehow convinced themselves that you weren’t, rather than trusting in the obvious truth that you always had been.

And still are.

As the song concluded with his smooth vocals, the crowd erupted into cheers. You raised your head and found him looking longingly up in your direction, and if you weren’t mistaken, at you.

But how could he?

The stage lights were so bright, you were sure it was impossible to see beyond the stage.

But with the way his gaze softened as your bottom lip trembled.

Maybe, just maybe.

As soon as the crowd settled down to a reasonable level, he began speaking again. “Thank you all for attending tonight. Bumzu-hyung is an artist that I admire a lot, so I feel really honored that I was able to share my music here. This song is… both personal and special. And I hope that, maybe, someone out there can understand what I was trying to convey.

“Carats, thank you always for your support. Remember to stay healthy; I’m always wishing for your happiness. We hope that you continue to love and support SEVENTEEN. I’m always humbled by Carat’s love for us, and I really wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

He began to fiddle with the microphone in his hands.

“Did you know that…” He trailed off for a moment before he glanced up in your direction. Your breath hitched. “...If you dream of fireflies, they’re supposed to represent guidance and inspiration? Because they’re kind of like a beacon of light in the dark. And according to some, they’re also meant to represent taking a chance at an opportunity that’s right in front of you. And I, uh. I’ve been dreaming of fireflies for a long time. So, I think… that means that it’s time to try and take that chance. I’m not sure what it’ll look like, but…”

He shut his eyes for a moment, tilting his head backwards, looking as though he was allowing the weight of his words to really sink into him. He brought the microphone back up to his lips.

“Thank you again. I hope our future together is one of happiness.”

He gave a slight bow to the audience who cheered loudly for him. He, once again, looked up in your direction. You weren’t sure whether he could see your expression, so instead you lifted your phone screen at its highest brightness, open to the phone dial screen.

If he gave any semblance of acknowledgement, it was imperceptible.

Bumzu was welcomed back to the stage and squeezed Jihoon’s shoulder before the latter excused himself off of the stage.

Almost possessed, you followed suit, leaving the upper gallery to rush towards the restroom, out of earshot and view of anyone else.

Not even a minute later, your phone starts vibrating.

You answer immediately. “That was fast.”

“We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think?”

“Are you… running? You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“Meet me outside. Staff parking lot.”

“I–”

“Security cleared it out.”

“Jihoon, I’m not fit like you! I’m not a runner.”

“I’m not asking you to be. I’ll wait for you as long as you need.”

Your heart swelled. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll see you soon, firefly.”

The sound of his smile filled your senses as the call ended.

Despite your complaints earlier, your feet were carrying you at a pace you haven’t attempted since your required physical education class. Your eyes were darting around, searching, searching, searching. The adrenaline rushing through your body was enough to keep up your strides. You were rushing forward, and then–

You saw him.

He pushed his hair back, his chest rising up and down, attempting to catch his breath. He was definitely winded from the running. But there was no rest for the weary as your eyes locked. You found yourself barreling forward, not even really thinking of anything other than: him.

And his arms caught you with ease as you slammed yourself into his chest. He spun you around to lessen the impact, but tightened his grip on you. “Firefly–”

“Jihoonie.”

You held each other for a while.

Long enough for both of your breathing to even, for your heart rates to synchronize.

As though making up for lost time.

He adjusted his face just slightly away from the crook of your neck to speak. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“Yeah, well. I’m the driver, so no shit.”

Jihoon laughed and squeezed you closer to him. You let out a grunt. “You call the shots, firefly.”

You disentangled yourself from him and pulled out your car keys from your person. “Alright, get in, my passenger prince. Let’s take a trip down memory lane, hm?”

──────────────────

“Hi! My name is Y/N. Here’s a seashell!”

The young boy’s expression contorted into one of confusion. You were completely unaffected. He looked around at the empty playground, save for a few pigeons here and there, before pointing to himself. “Are you talking to me?”

You knew for a fact that he was someone that the CU convenience store auntie would call a ‘cutie’. You’d agree! “I’d like to!”

“I’m… I’m Lee Jihoon.”

“Okay, Jihoon! Can we be friends?”

“S-Sure.”

“Awesome!” You clapped your hands together. “I don’t really know what friends do together, but let’s go on the swings! You can sit first and I’ll push you. I’m very strong.”

“No, it’s okay! I can push you—”

“You don’t think I’m strong enough?”

“No, no. That’s not what I said—”

“Get on the swing, Lee Jihoon!”

“O-Okay.”

──────────────────

“Do you remember when I pushed you on the swing so hard that you lurched forward and got a nosebleed from falling onto your face?”

“That was the first day we met, firefly.”

“Well, I wanted to know if you remembered.”

“To the point that it haunts me.”

“You were so small and cute back then. So shy.”

You half expected that the two of you were going to drive in silence, just basking in each other’s presence. But, remaining true to the dynamic you two always had, there was still so much to talk about. You told him about the drive down from Seoul and how Busan really needed to up its driving laws to match the rest of the country. He told you about how Soonyoung just finished performing “Hurricane” on stage and Jeonghan sent him the video.

You told him about how Jeonghan actually approached you.

“Aha.”

You couldn’t turn to see his expression, so you asked, “Why? Is that a bad thing?”

“He, uh. Might’ve witnessed me have a bit of a mental breakdown backstage, so.”

You took his nervous laughter as a sign to not push further. “Honestly, me on any given Tuesday.”

“What, your grad program?”

“Oh, man, I gotta tell you.”

And so the two of you exchanged both stories and banter until you finally saw the shoreline coming into view. Just a couple of moments later, you parked your car along the sidewalk at the edge of the beach. This was a more local area, far away from tourist spots.

“Ah, this place.”

“Lotta memories here,” you said. You shot him a big smile as you turned off the engine. “Let’s go make a new one.”

The two of you exited your car and threw your socks and shoes into the trunk of your car, just like you did with his parents’ car, when you were children.

As you both walked towards the edge of the water, you were very aware of the silence that had fallen onto the two of you.

There was an instinct in you that told you to remain quiet.

“You know,” Jihoon broke the silence. You smiled to yourself. “I’ve always admired how you were able to be so honest about your feelings, without worrying about what other people think.”

“That’s the nice way of saying that I don’t think before I speak.”

He laughed and you relished in it. “Maybe.”

You skipped forward a bit more, letting your toes dig into the now cooled sand, the sun long set. You had your back turned to him as you waited for him to continue speaking.

“I was always someone who kept to himself. Who never really shared my heart with anyone.”

You hummed as you turned to face him directly. “You did in your own way, I think. You just needed people who knew how to read between the lines.”

“I was never honest about the hard stuff though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I constantly asked myself if I was worthy enough to love you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he continued.

“You loved me in such loud ways. You honestly left no room for doubt, and yet my brain managed to squeeze in some anyway. But… you know what I eventually realized?”

“What?”

“I realized that if I were to give myself to anyone, to be safe with anyone in the world, it would be okay if it was you. You’ve always been honest. Your sadness. Your joy. I know I can trust it. Maybe that’s naive considering how long we’ve spent apart. But you’ve never been anything but honest. So this is me trying to do the same. Y/N, my light, my firefly, I love you.”

In his eyes you saw him searching for something, anything. He might’ve not been able to interpret the expression on your face, but there was no need to. You pulled the collar of your shirt down to reveal the ink forever etched into your skin, placed over your heart.

Art that was drawn on a paper towel a decade ago.

You knew even in the dim light of the street lamps high above you, he could see it.

His jaw dropped. “Wait. That’s—”

“I broke one promise in my life. Just one. And I told myself I would never do it again. No matter how stupid the promises were, no matter how mundane, no matter how old they were. I would never break another promise. Because breaking that one promise ended up breaking me. The promise that I’d always be by your side.”

“What are you—?”

“Because it’s you, it’s always been you. Ever since I gave you that stupid seashell from this very beach,” you gestured at your surroundings. “And it was stupid because you could easily get your own, but you kept it. Like it was a precious treasure.”

The rampant beating in your chest matched the rhythm of your words.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Jihoon. I have no idea and I’m terrified. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know anything. Years at Yale, years at Seoul National, years spent in higher academia only taught me that I know so little. But you, oh, you were the worst reminder. I don’t get how you can make me feel so empty and filled at the same time. I don’t understand how you can make me feel at home with just a smile. I don’t know how you have such a hold on me. You’re just this strange enigma that I can’t seem to place, a riddle with no way to solve. But God, I so badly want to try. You’re a question I want to spend the rest of my life trying to answer. Because it’s you.”

He bit his lip and you wondered if you overwhelmed him.

“I’ve spent years, you know,” his voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Hoping that you would hear me. That my words would reach you,” he breathed out. His eyes softened as he recalled, “‘If a second life that’s different from now is to come to me, will I be by your side? Will you be by my side? I imagine things like this. Even if they’re words I mentioned as a joke. Will you believe me? Even if it’s a funny imagination. On a sudden day when I’m left alone, I’ll take my steps towards you again.’”

He stepped forward, hands reaching for yours, and you immediately took them, as soon as he was an arm’s length away. Physically, this wasn’t the closest he’s ever been, but it was the closest you’ve ever felt.

“‘You did this once before. Only by looking in your eyes I can tell. Whatever may happen, I want to know this emotion. When walking by my side, I don’t even want to let go of your hands. That flattering feeling is because of you, everything is so good.’”

He took another step forward, his voice dropped to barely above a whisper, hoping you could hear his words above his heart hammering in his chest.

“‘What can I do? Without you, my heart stops and it’s always cold. What can we do? Without me, you’ll struggle just as much, so what can we do?’” He paused, before recalling later lyrics. “‘I don’t wanna let you go like this. I don’t want to be scared with a broken heart. I’m the place you can come to. You’re the place I can go to.”

Tears formed in your eyes, but he brushed them away easily, now cupping your face within his hands, the tips of your noses brushing against each other, and you could have sworn he felt the fluttering of your eyelashes against him, dampened slightly by your watery eyes.

“‘I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you. In my heart, it’s always been you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now, but I hope these typical words will reach you.’”

You looked at him, your entire being filled and your senses flooded.

With him.

It was only him, him, him.

How could you not have realized?

His words, his feelings were so clear.

He had the kind of love for you that brings forth a melody.

His gentle voice drew you away from your own thoughts, “Thank you, firefly. For choosing me.”

“Always, Jihoonie. Always.”

He leaned in to close the distance.

You met him halfway.

──────────────────

Your hands were intertwined with his as you swung them lightly, back and forth, ebbing and flowing, like the waves almost reaching your feet on the coastline of the local beach where you would laze away during your adolescence and find adventure during your childhood.

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, the sounds of the ocean and lull of the town around you, just basking in what felt like the stars finally aligning.

Jihoon squeezed your hand for a moment. “You know, I thought you left because you realized that I had feelings for you and didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, still not letting go of his hand, the sea breeze weaving itself between his and your hair.

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was pretty obvious. Hyung and noona thought the same. They figured it out pretty early on.”

“Um.”

He blinked. “You had no idea?”

“I—I thought you were in love with noona—”

“Hey, I might’ve thought she was pretty, but you were the one that turned that into something it wasn’t.”

“What! What about the times we went to try and find out whether the mini golf place was fun enough for a date idea? Or whether the food stand near the beach was romantic enough?”

“Please tell me you’re hearing yourself.”

“I’m—”

“Jesus, firefly. Are you serious? Did I end up ever taking her there? Did I even try? All of those places, all of those times, those were meant for you. You were the one who kept bringing up noona and what she would like while I was trying to figure out whether it would’ve been weird to reach out and hold your hand.” His grip tightened on yours.

You flushed at that. “Okay, but like—you spent so much time with noona before I left.”

“Because she was trying to help me plan something to get it through your thick skull just how in love I was because obviously none of the other things I did was enough.”

“I—you—she’s better than me.”

“I just confessed that I was in love with you, and you’re focusing on her right now?”

You blabbered out incoherent sounds and he merely laughed in your face at your reaction.

(Or maybe at himself.)

“Dozens of songs of writing my feelings for you into the lyrics, and you still didn’t get it. So. I’ll try and say it as clearly as possible. I love you, Y/N. What can I do to get you to notice me? Because I’ll do it, firefly. I swear I will.”

You bit your lip.

“I got my driver’s license.”

He wasn’t expecting that. “Uh… recently?”

“No. A month after you left, a month before I did. I got my driver’s license and I so badly wanted to call you to tell you. Because we talked about late night diner specials and how uncrowded the park was at six in the morning and you said I’d be your chauffeur forever.”

“Yeah, why should I have to learn?”

“Jihoon.”

“I’m doing alright without one, thanks.”

You rolled your eyes, but continued, “I drove around the neighborhood several times, passing by the mailboxes we used to Sharpie, the stop signs we tried to run up and slap, the sidewalks we crossed after hagwon, the sewer where we were convinced a clown lived.”

“That was a you thing, don’t drag me into it.”

“And I realized that none of it mattered if you weren’t in the passenger seat.”

“So, what are you saying? That I’m just good company?”

You eyed him and knew he was teasing, but there was a hint of insecurity underneath it. Because he said those words you had yet to acknowledge, let alone, respond to. The corner of your lips upturned. “Yeah, that’s it. And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to be in said company for at least one lifetime. I love you, Lee Jihoon.”

“You’re missing the ‘too,’ since I said it first.”

“You’re annoying.”

“It’s been one of the only ways to get you to look at me, firefly.”

“Mm. I’m always looking.”

“Respectfully?”

“Most times. Have you seen the ‘Good to Me’ choreo?”

He bumped your shoulder as you burst into a fit of giggles, choosing to let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his waist as he pretended to stomp off. He stuck his tongue out at you, calling you a pervert, and you said, “Hey, you’re the one that’s in love with me, alright?”

He swept you up into his arms and rather than carrying you princess-style or even in a piggy-back ride, he threw you over his shoulder and you yelped loudly.

“Jihoon!”

“Y/N!”

“Let me go!”

“Nope. Never again.”

You made a gagging noise. Who is this shameless kid?

“I’ll put you down though, my shoulder hurts.”

You smacked it once you were on your own two feet and ran as much as you could with the weight of your feet sinking into the wet sand with each step. He quickly closed the distance between the two of you and tackled you to the ground. You fell back, with his hand behind your head, ensuring no damage to your person. You giggled up at him.

The edge of the waves were mere centimeters from you, but seeing him against the endless night sky, with glittering stars, him, your moon, you could not bring yourself to care.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask him, about his life as an idol, about his pursuits and his struggles and his hopes and his dreams. You were so excited to fall in love with him again. You hoped that he would be just as excited to love the person that you’ve become, the one that is so wholly you, but has been transformed by him.

Leaving things left unsaid was a burden the two of you beared for far too many years, believing that you deserved the painful yearning of each other, to make up for the choices made as teenagers.

You breathed in the salt of the sea, as you thought about how, years ago, you were in the same city, letting this very person walk away from you. Shame washed over you, as it has for years, like the waves that were ebbing and flowing right beside you, and tears began to form in your eyes. It was almost embarrassing, how easily you let him slip away. He deserved so much.

“I’m a lot,” you choked out.

He smiled softly as he cupped your face gently, not moving to brush away tears that were threatening to fall. He simply held you, wordlessly accepting all that you were.

“Never too much, and always enough, firefly.”

You wanted to thank whatever higher power was out there.

Whatever one compelled Jihoon to search your Instagram page and accidentally like a post from years ago, a notification that could have been swiped away accidentally in the middle of the night by a bleary-eyed and half-awake you.

Because what kind of future would’ve come otherwise?

Would you have reconnected in some other way, more purposeful and intentional?

Or would you have convinced yourselves that living apart was something that was inevitable and it was better to have simply let the past be the past?

Or would you have yearned for each other in ways that even the potential of running into each other would lead to an eruption of nerves?

You breathed in slowly as you wrapped your arms around his middle, breathing him in, letting his heartbeat drown out even the sound of the crashing ocean beside you.

It didn’t really matter.

This future will be one that you build.

Together.

[끝.]

93 notes · View notes

luminastudioarts · 5 months ago

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Even if fate may tear us apart, our love is eternal…always and forever…

Hewo guys, this is my first post on Tumblr EVER, so yay!!! This artwork is featuring my four favorite Morningstar brothers over on one of my favorite ao3 Hazbin Hotel fanfics called “What Time Is It?” by shsy7573! Go and support them here as well @whattimeisitfic here on Tumblr! Honestly, I LOVE their work and definitely recommend you to check out their story! Love ya, Mama Duck! Hope you like the art! (From Apple_234)

Characters:

Gabriel (far left), Michael (middle left), Raphael (middle right), Lucifer (far right)

(I am lowkey nervous and hope this fanart is okay…I took some inspiration from the authors character concept designs as well as adding some of my own creative touches so idk. I’ve never posted artwork before so if anyone has any tips for me just let me know! I’ve been contemplating posting this for a few days now and can’t stop myself from re-editing it over and over again because I’m a dang perfectionist…but whatever it’s fine!🤪)

#ao3 fanfics #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #ao3 #fanart #ocs #fanfic content #what time is it

92 notes · View notes

satlun · 5 months ago

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Lust: John Constantine x fem!reader

Genre: smut, nsfw Trigger Warnings: mentioning about religion (a bit idk if I should add it but yeah), swear words, slurs; sl**t, wh**re, unprotected sex, missionary, oral (f!receiving)

You need money and he is lonely.

Author's note: my first time writing performing exorcism guyss (if you know what I mean ><) loll it's quite hard when I have to write in English lol so if it sounds weird please please please don't laugh </3 plus the problem is idk what word I shouldn’t write on tumblr idk if tumblr allows or not allow which word so if it’s weird or I can use another word pls tell me I'm scared that I might be banned lol so in this one shot I use ** to censor a lot (as much as possible I don't wanna be banned! *scream* 😭 it might not sound so smooth so sorry in advance readers!)

Credits: Gif (right) Gif (left)

“You got a lighter?” A sound of woman interrupted John while he was drinking cough suppressant outside a supermarket. He has a cough a lot lately, it doesn't surprised him at all actually since he smokes 30 cigarettes a day since he was 15. “Yeah” He finds the lighter in his suit before giving it to you. You light the cigarette that is now between your lips up. “Thanks” before handing it back to him. The way he dresses up just makes you curious. It is Saturday night and this guy is wearing a suit, full set. “How was your job interview?” Who knows? Maybe there's a company around here has an interview on Saturday. “What?” He turns to face you with confusion in his eyes. Your eyes glance down at his clothes. “A suit... with black boots.” He followed your gaze. “I didn't have an interview.” And this guy wears a suit on a daily basis? That's interesting. He's kinda odd or maybe cool. “Good for you. Companies around here are sucks.” He raised his eyebrows. “I have been interviewed by companies around here for like 13 companies and still not get a job.” Maybe it's your fault. That's what he thought. “It's not my fault.” You just slapped him by words.

He sighs and gives you a goodbye look. “Good luck then.” He said with emotionless face. Does he even have emotions? John walks to the car park nearby where he parked his car earlier. Well, that was a short conversation actually. You think to yourself. “You live around here?!” You shout and run after him with a cigarette on your hand. “Maybe you can recommend me some companies? I really need money!” He still keeps crossing the road without looking at you. “I'm not an office worker.” Yeah definitely because his life doesn't fit it. “Well, then how do you live without any money?” He stops and turns to you. You're like a stalker for him now. “What do you want?” He asked firmly with annoyance in on his face. “A job? Money?” You feel so helpless honestly. You're an unemployed woman at 30. How embarrassing you are. No job means no money and no money means your life is going to be harder. “I can't recommend you that. I'm not an office worker.” Nice sentence to end the conversation. “Too bad.” You said. John continues to walk again. He doesn't even care really. Who even are you? A completely stranger. “You have a girlfriend or something?” What kind of question is this? And to be asked by a stranger? John is confused that he needs to turn his face and look at you. “What?” The way he keeps walking way from you makes me think about him in two ways. First, he has a girlfriend and he is loyal with her so much that he doesn't even talk with other women. Second, he hasn't had a girlfriend and out of touch with women because he looks scared of you? Actually, who wouldn't be scared when a stranger keeps messing with you. “You got a girlfriend?” He answers without any shame. “No” He said as he opened the car door. “Hey wait. Just asking.” He looks at you with emotionless face again. “A man like you shouldn't spend time alone on Saturday night, you know.” What's it about Saturday night? “What do you mean?” There's a car past you both at the moment so you need to shout. “It's a shame!” It was supposed to be a joke. “I don't care.” He gets in the car and closes the door. “Don't you feel lonely sometimes?-” You said before he shutting the door on you but then you don't stop knocking on the window so he just has to roll it down. You start to speak again. “Let's think about it, it's a rainy Saturday night means tomorrow is still a weekend. You have no girlfriend, I have no boyfriend and I also need money. You have a car and maybe you live around here. I can take your loneliness away for a night.” He is about to roll the window up again but you use your hand to stop it. “And you know what, rain can really make us feel lonely. I did a research on it yesterday.” Yeah you actually did a research on it yesterday. He doesn't seem to answer you so you speak again. “You're out of touch with women.” You underestimate him. “I'm not.” He frowned at you. That's rude actually. Out of touch with women? Oh my. “Yes you're. You look at me like I'm a demon and keep walking away from me.” You tossed your cigarette on the wet ground and stomped on it. “Because you're a stranger and the fact that I don't know you at all.” You nod at him and smile sarcastically before leaning on his car. “Sure. I’m [y/n]. 30 years old. Married twice. No children. Just moved here last week and unemployed. You know me now.” Well, you really get on his nerves. “That's not-” you interrupt him immediately. “What do you want to know more about me? I can cook. I can clean. Don't have many hobbies watching movies... baking... and I love writing but most of the time I'm lazy.” You add. “And you're my type.” Well, that quite impress him. Not the fact they he's your type but the fact that you don't even give up after he ghosted you many times earlier.

“You won't give up, will you?” Now you look at him like a puppy, waiting for food. It's start to rain again. John notices the rain that's pouring down on you. “As long as you don't tell me to fuck off.” John smirks and looks away. He hesitates for a moment. It's raining now and maybe it's not that bad to have a woman in his embrace tonight. He never had a girlfriend before but he isn't out of touch with women. He sometimes sleeps with the girls he meet at bars or restaurants around here. They come to his apartment time to time but that's only for one night. He hates commitment and attachment issues. And here you're a bad little girl, standing next to his car begging him to fuck her and give her some money which that's not even a problem for him. He might not have a big house but he can afford you that. “How much?” A big smile formed on your face. “Let's talk about that later.” He didn't say anything except unlock the door as an answer for you. You get in his car and now he drives you to his apartment.

You are standing right in front of his apartment door while he is unlocking the door for you. As he opens the door, you notice there's a spell on the frame of the door. That's kind of new thing for you meanwhile it is something that a guy like him would do. John takes off his black suit and his necktie since they're now soaked with rain. You slowly walk in and observe around. It's big but it's almost like an abandoned apartment. It doesn't matter actually, you just love to observe things because they can tell what kind of person he is. Just like handwriting. Your gaze stop on the many water gallons on the floor which have a christian cross on it. “Well, I wanna know more about your job now.” You look at him while he is washing his face in the bathroom. “An excorsist.” He walks out of the bathroom with soaked face and hair. “You can leave. Most girls do. They're scared.” He says calmly, you can tell that he actually experienced that a lot. An exorcist? Interesting. “But I'm not.” You walk towards him before unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your black lace underwear. “You know... I've never met a guy like you before.” John raises his eyebrows as he keeps his gaze on your face. You’re concentrating on it. “How?” Now you slowly slide your shirt down to the floor. “A spell on the door frame, gallons with chritain cross sign on them and the fact that I've never been fucked by an exorcist.” John’s lips form into a smirk as he looks all over your beautiful body. You notice him that. “Tell me your name. So I can moan the right one...” you start to unbuttoned his white shirt, revealing his toned body. He looks hot in white shirt that is the first thought of him but when there’s nothing on him is just like he puts a spell on you. You're captivated by him. “It's John.” He looks at you while you're busy sliding his shirt down. The curiosity comes across his mind when he thinks about how a woman like you got married twice. You look too good to marry many times actually. He can feel that you’re good at things on bed or stuff like that. “Why did you marry twice?” You raise your eyebrows and answer his question. You don’t mind answering personal to strangers since this is only one night. "The first one was son of a bitch and the second one moaned the wrong name. I divorced him in the next day." He chuckled with your answer. Your sense of humor is something. "Yeah?" It is probably the reason why you asked his name earlier. Even your ex husbands are sucks, he knows that you have a lot of experience about s**x. Of course, husbands and wives thing. "You must have a lot of experience. Don’t embarrass yourself, show me." His hands move to your neck, and over to your hair before he pulls your hair gently so he can see your face clearly. He presses his lips against yours before you interrupt him. "No... I choose to be an innocent today.”

You break the kiss and crawl on to his bed. You play hard to get. It’s more fun when you act like this. Not too essay to read. “Unfortunately, she is possessed by a sinful demon.” John smirks before hovering on top of you and kissing your neck. He nibbles your soft skin gently but sometimes he nibbles harder so you can feel the pain. He loves it. Not too gentle and not too hard. “What kind of sin that is inside you now, beautiful?” He asks as he slides down your trousers away, revealing your black lace underwear. Obviously, you matched it before you going out. How sl**tty you are. “Such a wh**e” he murmurs as he goes down between your legs and spread it. “So I can perform exorcism on you correctly.” His fingers trace down on your folds gently and press it time to time on the spot while he is talking with you. You look at him through your thighs. He does the same, you both gaze locks on each other. He looks… hot that you just want him to eat all over your body right now. You already ready to give up on anything and just give him your body. “Lust” not in a second after hearing your answer, he kisses on your folds through the lace underwear once before using one finger to pull your underwear aside without taking it off. His tongue on your folds feels like heaven. He licks it gently as you moan his name sweetly. He likes hearing John… John… from your mouth. So sweet and delicate. “Did your ex husbands did this to you, huh?” You can’t even form a sentence, sadly. You just keep calling his name. He is naughty you know. After a while, you almost c**m but he doesn’t let you. When he notices that you are about to c**m, he stops. You feel like you’re gonna die, you need more, more of him. Never enough.

John doesn’t let you wait for too long. He stands up before taking his trousers off, showing his d**ck. He crawls and gets on top of you afterwards. Your face is red and sweaty, you’re ready for it. John gives you a passionate kiss once again, biting your upper lip, sucking it until it’s full of his saliva. You groan softly when he kisses you. You don’t talk back you just stay still like a good little girl. “You can’t even say a word.” He said as he grabbed your chin and turn your face to his. “Should I stop again or finally fuck you now. What do you want?” He asks firmly because you look so submissive, quiet and submit. “F**ck me, John...” Your doe eyes tell everything. You want his d**ck so bad, you want to feel it inside you. You want him to fuck you until you can’t even moan. “Not enough. Beg me.” He demanded. “John… please… fuck me. Fill me.” Your hand grabs his big arm as you beg him. He slowly gets up and pull your legs, so your body can get closer to him. He put his d**ck inside you easily because you’re already wet. It’s so obvious that your black lace underwear becomes soaked and sticky. He doesn’t take your underwear off though, he loves when there are still clothes or something on your body, not too naked because it’s boring. “Fuck-” he groaned. His hip moves slow at first and slowly gets faster. He doesn’t want it to be so roughy. He loves it to be soft first and then hard later. “Oh- John…” your back arches like a cat while your hands finding something to squeeze. F**ck with an exorcist feeling like you go to heaven but on earth. “So tight.” He said. It’s like you’re still a v**rgin but the fact is that you have been f**cked by many strangers. You’re the exact definition of a sl**t. He moves faster than before, the sound of your skin being hit by his is so loud. However, that doesn’t seem to stop him, he doesn’t care if anybody is going to hear it. “Don’t pull out, John- fuck!” You moan loudly. “I am not gonna pull out. You’re so good. Fuck…” he doesn’t let go of your legs while his eyes are still on you for the whole time, the way your face starts to be sweaty and red makes him feel like he wants to f**ck you harder. And c**m inside you as well. Soon, your body starts to arch and shake a little while he fills you inside with his c**m. “Fuck-” He doesn’t take it off immediately, he just lets it stay like this for a moment while one of his hand places on your belly and presses it a little. So you could feel his d**ck inside you better. “I can feel it- fuck yes…” you muttered as you looked up at the ceiling. He leans on you and force your face to look at him. “I told you. I’m not out of touch with women. I know how to do with them.” You look at him with doe tearing eyes. It feels so good that you want to cry. You’re totally a good girl beneath him. Never talk back for the whole activity even now. “How much do you want?” You answer immediately as if you already thought about it. “22$” John raises his eyebrows because he thought you were going to ask more than that. “22$?” You nod as he grabs his wallet while his d**ick is still inside you, jiggling inside your p**ssy. He opens his wallet before counting it and then hand it to you. You starts to count. You notice that it's more than that. “28$ for being a good girl.” he leans to give you a kiss on your forehead before pulling it out of you. It’s still soaking. His c**m slowly flowing out of your pretty p**ssy. You slowly get up and kiss his lip while he’s dressing up. The money that he paid you earlier is now in your pocket. You are ready to leave, you don’t wash your p**ssy though. You just wear your underwear anyway because you love how sticky his c**m feels on your folds. It makes you feel good for hours later after this.

He watches you as you’re about to leave. You stop at his dining table and place a tiny paper on it. “What’s that?” “Call me when you feel lonely on a rainy night.” You give him a playful smirk and he does the same. John walks towards you and stands right in front of you closely. “Or crawl back to me when you need money.” He teases. You didn’t say anything just give him a goodbye look in your eyes. You left.

Tonight , rain doesn’t make him feel lonely anymore, I guess.

END

Author's note: I hope it's not cringe guys. That's all I want. 😭

#keanu reeves #constantine 2005 #john constantine #keanuverse #john constantine 2005 #john constantine x reader #john constantine x you

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forever-once-gone · 2 years ago

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New Drabble! On The First Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me...

This is a drabble! To read the first part click here! And please I hope you all read this since you guys seem to love this pair.

Pairing: Yandere!Namjoon x Reader x Yandere!Jungkook

Genre: Yandere AU, angst

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Before you had gotten kidnapped by your boss and his fiancé, you had to first meet the Mr. Jeon that you heard so much about. So, how exactly did your first meeting with him go? Well, why not reminisce about the last time you were truly free? When you were not yet locked to your unfortunate future of being added into your boss’ relationship.

Content & Warnings: Gender neutral reader, yandere themes, angst, Joon and Kook are in an established relationship, CEO!Joonie, stay-at-home-boyfriend!Kook, assistant!reader, polyamory, reader’s sexuality is nondescript, talks of violence, Jungkook wants to hurt the reader a lot during this, general discomfort, making out, use of pet names, reader being none the wiser to what the two of them are talking about as they continue to type away on their keyboard lol

Author’s Note: Hi hi! It’s been a while. I’ve been swamped with school and just haven’t been able to write anything for you guys lately. But today, I logged into Tumblr and saw some very kind reblogs and asks and I just wanted to write something for you guys! I really appreciate the kind comments and It really does fuel me to write for you guys. So here is a drabble for your guys’ favourite couple! I hope you guys enjoy seeing how Jungkook and the reader’s first encounter went. It’s funny cause Jungkook is like fuming and they’re just like “this guy seems stressed :(” and then they get chosen (kinda) to be pursued by Jungkook and Namjoon lol. I apologize for not having posted part two last Christmas, but I was honestly just really stressed around that time. And then I wanted to have this small inside Easter egg (?) for something in part two but then I realized it was kinda hard to explain without having a previous explanation for it. So this drabble worked out! It was a little incentive to add that little tidbit into this and maybe you’ll have a little “oh!” moment when you read something later on when I post part two (whenever that will be lol, don’t ask me, idk. I’m aiming for this Christmas). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I need to stop writing this author’s note, it’s has gotten too long anyways lol. So yeah, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Jungkook was fuming as he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor of the elevator, seething for the elevator to spit him out on Namjoon’s floor. He was gonna figure out what was going on with his boyfriend one way or another.

His dearest Joonie had refused his daily cup of coffee… again. For the past few weeks, Namjoon, the love of his life, had been eating everything during breakfast that Jungkook woke up oh so graciously to make for him each morning. Joon finished everything except his fucking cup of coffee. Some days he’d be kind enough to take a sip or two before leaving the still very full mug standing in its place on the dining room table beside his empty dishes.

Seeing the mug full of the coffee that Namjoon used to always say Jungkook made better than anyone else left Jungkook feeling insecure. Insecure and just a little bit angry. Okay, maybe a bit more than a little bit, he’ll admit. Okay, fine, he was boiling with fury. He hated to imagine that Namjoon was drinking coffee made by someone else. Because he knew for a fact, if Namjoon wasn’t drinking his coffee, then he was getting it from somewhere else ‘cause Joonie was never able to get anything done without his morning coffee. And knowing Joonie’s disdain for store bought coffee, Jungkook knew it had to be someone making it for him, homemade. And if he was drinking someone else's, that must mean that he was falling out of love with him and falling in love with this awful, boyfriend-stealing, shameless person. And Jungkook was gonna stop at nothing until he found who this fucking person was and got even. He was gonna win Namjoon back one way or another.

The ding-ing of the elevator woke him from his murderous thoughts just in time to see the doors open to the empty space that lead to his boyfriend’s office. Or at least, the once-empty area, because now, unlike the last time he’d come here about a month ago, there was a table placed just before the office doors. And behind that table was a person, who upon hearing the elevators open perked up from their computer screen to smile at him. This person had a sweet smile, kind eyes, and the smoothest voice as they asked him what they could do for him.

He walked up to their table, arms crossed over his chest as he analysed the person sitting below him. The person still smiling up at him even throughout the awkward silence as Jungkook left their question unanswered. The person was dressed nicely and they had a kind aura around them. Their workspace was covered in flowers from the flower shop that Jungkook knew Namjoon frequented. Usually, his Joonie brought home flowers only for him, but here was this new person who was now swimming between countless bouquets covering every free inch of their work table.

When they asked him what he wanted for the second time, he finally graced the person with an answer. “I’m here to see Namjoon.”

The person nodded their head, before prodding for more info. “Alright, and who might you be?” the person asked, turning to scroll through their computer, searching to see if they had accidentally double-booked their boss’ time.

“I’m Jungkook,” he began, back straightening in pride when he saw the worker tense up in their seat. “Joon’s boyfriend,” he concluded, mentally doing a mic drop, hoping that those words etched themselves in the worker's skin, the one who was stealing his Namjoon from him. He hoped it hurt.

What he didn’t expect is for the worker to turn back to him after X-ing out of the calendar that they had been frantically scrolling through, before turning to him with a polite smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” the person began, “I think this is the first time we’re actually meeting in person. I’m Y/n L/n, Mr. Kim’s assistant. I just got shifted up to this floor about a month ago from my previous place a few floors down.” You reached your hand out to him for him to shake, just for him to completely ignore it, not even glancing in your hands direction.

“Yes. I’m sure he’s mentioned me before.” Jungkook was gonna make sure that you knew that Namjoon was his, no matter how nice you pretended to be.

“Yes, he has,” you replied pleasantly. “And of course, I’ve spoken with you before too, if you recall?”

When he thought about it, he had spoken with you before. The few times he’d call Namjoon’s assistant when his boyfriend wasn’t picking up. He would pace in this same area, back when it was still empty and call the number for Namjoon’s assistant to know when he’d be free again. The conversations would be semi-mannerly, at best, as he would ask where his boyfriend was before hanging up as soon as he got his answer. He never expected the assistant, that he never spoke more than a few clipped sentences to, being the one who was stealing his love away from him.

That they would have been moved up to be on the same floor as his boyfriend.

The two of them.

Alone.

And when he saw two cups of steaming coffee on your table corner, one half finished and one still untouched, he knew that you were the one making coffee for his man. He felt deep hatred rise in his chest, bubbling up his throat, ready to let out his rage on the home-breaker in front of him.

But he pushed his feelings down before giving you a pursed smile. “Right. You sound different in person. I didn’t even recognize you.” It was true, he wasn’t expecting your voice to be as sweet as it was, though he could tell it was strictly professional. Even when you were so obviously putting on a kind smile for the sake of your job, your voice was so saccharine. He could only imagine how much more saccharine—sinful—your voice must sound when you were using it for your more devious desires.

Jungkook wondered if you’d ever used that syrupy voice on his boyfriend. Walked into his man’s office with your probably sub-par coffee between your hands. You were attractive, that he will give to you, but he hoped that Namjoon wouldn't think the same way that he did. He hoped that any attempts that you’d made on him were met with bitter rejection.

But seeing you surrounded with all the flowers, making your soft features look even more attractive—though he hated to admit it—he knew that Namjoon must feel at least something for you. Why else would Namjoon have gotten you all these flowers? Flowers that Jungkook indignantly noticed were his favourites.

You were perfect and that’s what made his heart hurt more.

In another life, maybe Jungkook would have fallen for you himself, he thought sorely.

You laughed at his remark about your voice. “I guess no one really sounds the same over the phone though, right?” You asked him. “I mean, you sound pretty different yourself.”

Jungkook felt his eye twitch. Was that a dig at him? Were you implying that he was being rude? Were you saying he was anything less than the kindest, best person in the world? He restrained himself from reaching over your desk and pulling your hair out, telling you how Namjoon always told him that he was the best person in the world. He wanted to tell you that you’d never compare to him in Namjoon’s eyes.

Instead of doing any of that, he decided it was better to just ask for his boyfriend. He had a few choice words that he wanted to have with him.

“So will you please tell me if my boyfriend is available?” he asked you, steering the conversation back to the original topic of conversation.

Your eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon. In my surprise of meeting you for the first time, I forgot to tell you that he’s in a meeting right now. He should be done in…” You turned to check the clock on the wall. “...in just about ten minutes.”

You turned back to the man in front of you who stood there with a small pout that you were sure he didn’t realize was there and you observed the way his eyebrows scrunched slightly together. It was funny to see how his overly expressive face had changed so many times in the little amount of time that he’d come up to you. Clearly something was bothering this poor guy, so you tried to be as nice to him as you could. Though it only seemed to make him look even worse.

“You can wait for him in the sitting area over there or you could wait for Mr. Kim in his office.” You left it up to Mr. Jeon choose what he’d rather do, only for him to scoff slightly.

“I’ll wait for him in his office,” he answered curtly. He began to walk away and you turned back to your computer only for him to step back up to you. He pointed at the mug sitting beside yours. “Is this for Joonie?”

“Uh yeah.”

“I’ll take this to him.” He gave you another half smile and one last glance at your pretty face before finally entering Mr. Kim’s and taking the suffocating aura that was surrounding him with him. You sighed in relief. You hated having to deal with this job, but the paycheque wasn’t anything to scoff at, and so you settled back into your chair and hoped Mr. Kim would get here soon.

Namjoon found Jungkook sitting in his chair when he returned from his meeting on one of the lower floors of the building. His younger boyfriend sipping on a cup of coffee that he recognized was the one that you usually set out for him. He could see Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in disgust, as he continuously sipped loudly from his drink.

Namjoon could tell immediately that his beloved was in one of his moods. He knew that he had to get control of the situation, and quickly, especially if he didn’t want you to overhear whatever Kookie was upset about.

“Hi, love. What are you doing here?” Namjoon rounded the table to press a kiss against Jungkook’s temple as he continued to sip from his cup.

“They make some good coffee, huh? I see now why you’ve been rejecting my coffee now.” Jungkook got right to his point. His voice was cold and he refused to look at his boyfriend as he set down the now empty mug.

Namjoon sighed. “Don’t be like that. I was just being kind to them. I didn’t want to upset them by not accepting their coffee.” He pulled Jungkook up from the chair momentarily before sitting down in Jungkook’s place. He then smoothly pulled his boyfriend to sit down sideways on his lap. He rubbed his large hand up and down Jungkook’s back, trying to calm him down.

“Oh really?” Jungkook shoved Namjoon’s arm away from him. “‘Just being kind’? What about all the roses on their desk?! I saw the labels on them, they’re from Sirf Ek Phool! The same place you always get flowers for me!” Jungkook folded his arms against his chest, stopping himself from beating his fists against his boyfriend’s chest like he wanted to.

“Honey, that is just because they take such good care of me—”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Take care of you? Excuse me? Taking better care of you than me? Your boyfriend?! In which way is this assistant taking care of my boyfriend, hmm? Do I need to beat their ass?!” He began to push himself off Namjoon’s lap, eyes locked at the door with a barbaric look in his eyes.

Namjoon swiped a hand over his face, before pulling his boyfriend back into his chest, closer than he was before, his arms locking over his waist. “Love, you know that I love you more than anything else in the world. No other person could ever take your place. They are just very kind, I promise I’m not doing anything that would harm our relationship. I promise you.”

He pressed a kiss against Jungkook’s cheek, before pressing another against his jaw. He pulled a content sigh from Jungkook, and Namjoon knew instantly that he’d deescalated the situation. At least enough for Kookie not to go and murder his assistant. At least not right now.

“Why should I trust you?” Kookie let out softly in between whimpers as Namjoon nipped at his neck.

“When have I ever lied to you?” Namjoon said against his Adam's apple.

“Many, many times,” Jungkook replied.

Namjoon let out a half laugh against Jungkook’s shoulder, letting his forehead rest against him. “I guess I should clarify. When have I ever lied to you in a way that was bad for you?”

“Never.” Jungkook pulled Namjoon’s face to face him. “You always know what’s best, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.”

“Don’t be that way. I’m not asking you to be best friends with them or anything like that. Just give them a chance to be your friend.”

Jungkook thought for a second, thinking back to you sitting at your desk and your friendly nature. You weren’t that bad, and you were rather pretty… Ugh, couldn’t Namjoon just be clear with what he meant? Did he expect… more from you than just an assistant?

Jungkook’s bottom lip was jutted out in sadness, calling out to Namjoon with its plump red appearance. Namjoon was again taken aback by his boyfriend’s beauty and just how amazing he was for him. After all, look at him. Just a second ago, Jungkook was ready to beat up his assistant and now he was clutching Namjoon’s suit jacket’s lapels with a vulnerable look on his face. He looked so worried, waiting for Namjoon’s next words and his next course of action. Fuck, Namjoon loved that man.

He pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss, letting the shorter man melt into his embrace. He could taste your signature coffee on Jungkook’s tongue which only made Namjoon push his tongue more eagerly in his mouth. The taste of your coffee and the love of his life together making his head spin in ecstasy. His brain painted a picture of what could come if he was able to make this whole thing work.

He knew what he wanted, and he knew he’d get it.

Don’t mistake him for being selfish, oh no. He wasn’t doing this just because he wanted you. It’s because he knew that in due time Jungkook will fall for you too. He knew he would. He wouldn’t have to push it, nor would he have to force it. You were perfect for the two of them, he’d figured that out in less than 8 months of you becoming his assistant after the last one quit. You were incredible and he knew that you were just Jungkook’s type. He knew Jungkook and he knew that in less than a month he’d be just as smitten with you as Namjoon was with you now. Actually, Namjoon knows that Jungkook would be even more in love with you than he was now.

And with Jungkook now in his arms, Jungkook’s hands gripping the sides of Namjoon’s neck possessively, his thumbs pushing into Namjoon’s jaw. The way that Jungkook had finished your whole cup of coffee leaving nothing for Namjoon to even get a taste of, and how Jungkook despite his furious expression had the slightest bit of a flush on his face when Namjoon had first walked in, he knew that Jungkook already was falling for you.

Namjoon pressed one final kiss to Jungkook’s lips before pulling away.

Jungkook had a blissed out expression on his face, a soft smile etched on his features as his eyes remained shut in happiness.

“Do you really hate them that much?” Namjoon asked Jungkook, watching him carefully.

Jungkook slowly opened his eyes, a blush slowly making its way up his neck. He turned to look to the side, revealing his bright red ears to Namjoon. Jungkook thought back to your sweet voice, your pretty face, your kind smile, and the coffee you had made that he couldn’t get enough of even as much as he had wanted to hate it. He turned to glance at the empty mug on the table that he wished would refill on its own.

He waited for a minute before: “No.”

“But no more ignoring my coffee, you still have to drink mine! And you have to say that mine's better than theirs” Jungkook added.

Namjoon smiled. Perfect, he knew this would be perfect. He knew just how perfectly you’d fit in with his little family. How you’d fit in Jungkook’s heart. He knew the both of you very well. He was proud.

Namjoon forced Jungkook to turn back to him before attacking him with kisses again.

You turned to see Mr. Jeon skipping out of Mr. Kim’s office. You expected him to go directly to the elevator because of his short attitude with you earlier, but he instead turned to stand in front of your table once again. Smiling down at you genuinely for the first time since he first walked into the room.

You waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, you figured you should say something instead. “All done?” you asked.

Mr. Jeon just nodded his head, which only made the newly blossoming marks on his neck more visible to you. “I had a sip of the coffee you made Joonie, it was good.”

“Oh thank you,” you replied, a bit taken aback by his sudden change from his previous conduct from before Mr. Kim had shown up. Mr. Kim had given you a small nod in greeting before entering his office when you’d told him Mr. Jeon was waiting for him. Mr. Jeon must really love Mr. Kim for his personality to do such a 180 after seeing him for just half an hour.

Damn, is that what love does to a person?

“I would like to have a proper cup the next time I come visit Joonie.” Mr. Jeon looked down at you expectantly. He seemed to be looking for something deep within you and when you agreed to make him a cup the next time you saw him, he seemed to have found whatever he was looking for.

He smiled at you though a bit hesitant. He pulled a rose from one of the vases of your bouquets, twirling it between his fingers. He seemed to still be a bit stuck thinking of something, but then he was turning away from you. He pressed the button calling the elevator, before turning back at you. “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. I hope we’re able to get to know each other more in the future.”

“Yes, of course!”

He waved the flower at you in goodbye before stepping into the elevator, flashing you one final bunny smile.

What an odd man.

Does 3k still count as a drabble? I have no clue. Anyway, thanks for reading! 💕💕💕

#yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yandere bts fanfic #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #namjoon x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #poly bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #Ev's writing #Ev's bts poly fic #fic: on the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

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anonymityisfunwriter · 8 months ago

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The Birds and The Bees

A.N. I don't usually do many author's notes in Tumblr, but never, never, not once, has a fic ever been so requested, by so many different people, that I feel like I have to.

@i-love-mommy-wanda "Being that she stayed in a room most of her life- just hear me out- a oneshot - of Sam giving her the" TALK!" like birds and bees and where baby's come from I think that would be funny" @/thequeeranarchist "I don't know if you take requests, but I thought about if someone had to explain the birds and the bees to sunshine considering she probably never had been told about it. Idk, I thought about sunshine and Bucky's first time together too, but I don't know your comfortability with what you write and what you don't. And grumpy x sunshine is officially my favourite trope now bc of this series."

I don't even - I just don't even know what to say. (Please note, that as I write this, I'm quite literally giggling to myself and have quite literally reverted to my awkward 16 year old self) I get requests somewhat regularly, but this, this is the most requested topic. You guys just really wanted to know about this.

Listen, here's the thing, reading second hand embarrassment is one thing. WRITING IT? I was in physical pain, but the scene wasn't going to write itself. I tried, it really didn't write itself.

But I did it. Because I love you guys. And now, it'll be another 5 to 7 business days before I can log back on.

P.S. I know there's other people who requested it too, but I can't find the requests, but please know I didn't forget about you!

Anon's 1K Celebration

Pairing: Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Summary: Falling in love is easy, as natural as breathing, so why is talking about it so embarrassing?

"Sam," you frantically call from the doorway, clutching your racing heart, "I think I'm dying."

"What? Why? What happened?" Sam rushes out, frantically searching you for signs of duress.

You double over, hands clutching your sides, "Well, I'm not sure, but I did Google it and I think I'm having a heart attack."

Sam takes a long sigh, resting his hands on his hips in mild exasperation. At least he knew you weren't actually dying. "And why do you think you're having a heart attack?"

"I just," you dramatically clutch your chest, finally standing upright, "My heart feels like it's in my stomach, and- and I'm all sweaty, and fluttery. And I want to curl up into a little ball and die, but maybe also listen to every Taylor Swift song ever written."

"Well, that was," Sam clears his throat, "That was very descriptive."

You flop down on your couch and groan into one of the cushions, "Just leave me here to die."

"You're not dying."

You lift your head to glare at him, "You don't know."

"I do know," Sam insists. "You're a healthy, 25 year old woman, the chances of you having a heart attack are almost zero."

"But not zero," you point out.

Sam sighs, grabbing your hand and pulling you up off the couch, "You're not dying, and you're not having a heart attack."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"If you're wrong, I'll haunt you."

"I'll take my chances," Sam playfully rolls his eyes, "So what were you doing right before you thought you were having a heart attack?"

"I-" you clear your throat, a furious blush warming your entire face, "I don't want to tell you."

He should've known something was wrong right from the get go. You were always so open, so honest about everything. You weren't raised under the same social contract, or any social contract, and you were still learning basic social norms and customs. For better or worse, you were the most honest and open person Sam had ever known.

So for you to be this flustered, this shy and jittery, it had to be something pretty important.

He should've left it at that. He really should've left it at that. But no, like the concerned friend he was, he pressed the topic even more.

He gently nudges your shoulder, taking a seat beside you, "I can't help you if you don't tell me."

You abruptly stand up, awkwardly chuckling. You inch away from him, jutting your thumb back to your room, "You know, now that I think about it, I'm all better, heart attack healed. Good talk, thanks, Sam."

"Come on, just tell me," Sam cajoles, patting the seat beside him. "We tell each other everything."

"I was on the phone."

"Okay..." Sam could count on one hand the number of people that had any means to communicate with you. Hell, he could count exactly how many people had knowledge of your existence with both hands.

It takes Sam a second to realize that he's too lost in his worry to actually hear what you're telling him, "... so Bucky told me we could practice-"

He already doesn't like where this is going. "Practice what?"

"Texting, Sam." You quirk an eyebrow at him, "Are you even listening to me?"

Sam suspiciously nods, settling back into the couch, "Right."

"And we've sort of been texting each other."

"Uh-huh," Sam nods along, though he gets the distinct feeling that he won't like where this is going. Not in the slightest. He physically braces himself as he asks his next question, "So, um, what were you guys talking about?"

You timidly shrug, twisting and untwisting your fingers, "Just stuff."

"Stuff?" Sam dubiously repeats. "Talking about stuff made you think you were having a heart attack?"

"Yes..." It's clear to him that you're lying through your teeth. It's clear that this is as weird for him as it is for you. You clap your hands down on your lap, abruptly standing with up a fierce blush painting your face, "You know what? I completely forgot I have to water my plants!"

"I know you're lying!" Sam calls after you as you scramble away.

"No, I'm not!" you shout over your shoulder. "I'll be back! Maybe! Probably! Definitely at some point!"

This wasn't the first time something like this happened, a strange, slightly uncomfortable situation happening.

This whole living arrangement with you and Sam would probably be called a strange, slightly uncomfortable situation by most people. Most of the time, Sam was able to handle these things on his own.

Having grown up with a younger sister, Sam was fairly comfortable talking about and dealing with certain things. That did not mean he was even remotely prepared or even qualified to explain those things to you.

The first time it happened was about a month into living with each other.

It was just cramps. Until it wasn't.

He phoned it in to Maria Hill.

Crisis averted. Mostly.

Because a couple of months later, another of those awkward situations arose.

The second time was an awkward encounter with a barista at your local cafe.

Apparently, getting breakfast and coffee with a person of the opposite sex first thing in the morning day in and out meant that people could just assume the nature of your relationship. And it wouldn’t have been the most ridiculous assumption if it weren’t for the fact that it absolutely was the most ridiculous assumption.

Sam was just thankful that he was as certain of your feelings as he was of his own.

He'd handled that situation fairly well on his own, even if it did take several days for you two to be within five feet of each other.

And now here he was again. Sitting all alone in your living room, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with this. And that's when he sees it. The scene of the crime sat right before him, right on the coffee table. Your phone.

"You forgot your-" He stops himself from finishing that sentence. Because this wasn't your run of the mill awkward situation, no, this was worse. A lot worse than some nosey barista. So much worse that he thinks about doing something stupid. An overprotective, older brother sort of stupid. He tries to rationalize it, after all, you’d left the phone right there. Right there. Right in front of him. Within his reach. What kind of handler would he even be if he wasn’t keeping a close eye on you?

“No.” Sam suddenly changes his mind, softly muttering to himself, “That is an invasion of privacy. What kind of friend-“

And before he even knows it, your phone is in his hand. And he’s clicking on your messages.

And he’s reading your texts to Bucky.

JBB: What does 'lol' mean? You: It's either lots of love or laugh out loud. Idk. JBB: What does that mean? The idk? You: I don't know. JBB: I'll ask. You: No, it means I don't know. JBB: Oh. JBB: I know you can't see me, but I'm frowning right now. You: You make me laugh. JBB: I like making you laugh. JBB: But if you tell anyone that, I'll deny it. You: lol JBB: Which version of lol was that? Lots of love or laughing out loud? You: That’s for me to know. JBB: And for me to find out? You: lol

"That was smooth as hell," Sam mutters to himself. Sam has to stop at that point. He can’t read any more. He scoffs to himself, “She’s been out a year and flirts better than I do.”

There’s a part of him that’s a little mad. Mostly about your shockingly incredible ability to flirt.

But it also grates on that older brother nerve. The same one Sarah used to love to poke and prod at when they were younger.

He's still sort of in his right mind. At least enough to know that he's out of his element with this one. There’s no way that he can approach you about this. Especially not after reading through your messages.

What even was this? Was it just harmless flirting? Was it you just trying to get out there and socialize with the few people you were allowed contact with?

Or were there feelings there? And, if there were feeling, what kind of feelings?

He rapidly shakes his head trying to rid himself of the idea. That was not an image he needed in his head.

Sam decides in that very moment, this is too far out of his league. He can't handle this. An while might not be able to handle this, he knew someone who could, someone much more qualified than he was. He dials her number right away. She answers on the third ring.

"I need your help," Sam sharply whispers into his phone.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"There is flirting happening over here!"

Maria sighs in relief, "Oh, good, I thought there was a real problem happening."

"Did you not hear me? Flirting, Maria! Flirting!"

"So?"

"Do you know what flirting leads to?" Sam wildly questions.

"No?"

"It leads to... other things - I don't know! And that's why I need your help! I can't deal with this!"

"You can't call me over for things like this."

"I thought you said you were happy to help!"

"I was! I am, but you're supposed to be keeping a low profile. Having me walk in and out of your front door in broad daylight is not low profile."

"So then come in through the backdoor!" Sam pleads.

"Sam," Maria deadpans.

"I know, I know, you're right."

"I know it's a little... uncomfortable, but you just have to deal. Nick wouldn't have picked you if he thought even for a second that you couldn't handle this. It might be a little weird at first, but you've got this."

And he used to be sure that he could.

He used to be great at this job. Catching you up on pop culture? No one better than Sam. Healthy dialogue? Second nature to Sam. Ability to keep you safe? He was doing a damned good job at it if he could say so himself.

Then came the Bucky of it all.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

Sam had half a mind to kick Bucky's ass for making you feel... whatever you were feeling.

Sam's only saving grace was that you'd pretty much become self sufficient in most areas of your life when Bucky came into the picture a few months ago. Since then, things were different. You were different. At first, Sam was sure it was just the excitement and thrill of having a new friend.

He could kill Bucky for making your life more complicated. For making his life more complicated.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

He's so lost in his plot to murder Bucky Barnes that he almost doesn't realize it when you shuffle back into the living room. "Sam?"

Sam's head snaps up, "Huh?"

"I said what are you doing?"

"Um... Just thinking."

"About?"

"What's going on with you and Bucky?" Sam abrasively blurts out.

Your eyes blow wide. "What?"

"Sorry, what I meant to say was - what's going on with you and Bucky?" Sam demands with equal fervor.

"Nothing!" you exclaim.

"Well, I know you're lying!"

"I'm not lying!" you insist.

"I saw you two flirting over text!"

"You read our texts?" Your eyes snap over to the coffee table where you left your phone. Sure enough, it's upright and in a completely different spot. "Are you crazy?"

"No, no, I am not crazy because you two are over there flirting and- and- and flirting and I'm not ready to be an uncle again!"

Both your hands cover your flaming face as you turn to leave the room again, "Oh my God!"

Sam reaches out, grabbing your arm to guide you back to the conversation that he knew deep down just had to happen, "No, no, we are going to sit and we are going to talk about this."

"About what?!" you shriek.

"About this! You know this. The flirting. Dating. Other things. You know what so please don't make me say it," Sam pleads with you, looking every bit as awkward as you feel.

"No, I don't, so no, we're not!"

"You not knowing is the literal reason we have to talk about this!" Sam rants.

You turn to try to leave again, "I'm leaving."

Sam wedges himself in the doorway, physically blocking you from leaving, "Oh, no, you're not."

You try to squeeze past him, "Oh, yes, I am."

"No, you're not!"

"Why not?"

"Because we have to talk about this."

"Why?" you exclaim with a particularly shrill tone.

"I don't know!" Sam throws his hands up. "But we are. And we are going to hate every single second of it. And then we never have to talk about it ever again."

"You swear?"

"I swear," Sam promises, raising his right hand. He gestures to the couch, "If you sit and we have the talk, we will never speak of it again."

"Fine," you grumble under your breath, huffing as you slump onto to the couch.

"Great..."

So you sat.

And you listened.

And you did your best not to cringe at what Sam was telling you. And then it was over. The silence palpable. Your face burning with embarrassment. Sam's face burning with embarrassment. But it was over. It was all said and done.

You both sit on the couch with your hands in your lap, several feet away from each other, not even looking at each other but staring at the turned off television before you. After many, many long minutes of sitting in awkward silence, you turn to Sam with a questioning look, "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we know too much about each other?"

"Definitely starting to."

"Glad we're on the same page."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Anon's 1K Celebration

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

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mangomode · 9 days ago

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10/22/24

[Authors note - I found this in my drafts and decided to publish it cos I'm never gonna finish it. I'd appreciate any sort of feedback! Seriously, Tumblr notifications fill me with unbridled joy.]

Camping!!

Rise Raphael X GN!Reader

(Self-deprecation, teasing, implied romantic feelings, the very slightest bit of suggestiveness at the end <- does it even count? Idk)

Raphael sits next to you at the campfire, impaling a marshmallow with a roasting stick as he distractedly sings along to the music coming from Leo's speaker. The night is serene. A slight breeze ruffles the green grass and leaves around you all, and the stars and moon bathe everything in a silver light. The fire sparks and crackles.

Raph had pulled up a chair to sit next to you, even though he could have sat anywhere. Is that a sign? You glance at him nervously and look away just as quick. He doesn't notice, doesn't look at you with those big kind eyes of his. Hopeful expectancy, that's how he always looks at you. Like you're about to do a backflip or solve world hunger. You wonder if he finds himself disappointed when you're nothing special.

"Y/N? You good? You don't seem to be having fun." He snaps you out of your thoughts. His eyes look good in the firelight, and the corners of his mouth turns down in a worried frown that almost catches you off guard, or it would, if he wasn't so much of a sweetheart. It's been a while since he spoke. You can't just keep admiring him. You need to reply.

"Oh, um, no, I'm fine. Just lost in thought, zoning out. I tend to just stare into the fire and lose track of everything, you know?" You laugh, ha-ha, convincing, right?

He hands you a s'more, the marshmallow exactly how you like it, and you manage a small genuine smile that he returns. "Thanks, Raph..."

"It's no problem." He grins. "Man, it's nice that we get to be out in the open like this, without being too worried about being seen."

"I hope Splinter's ok." You say between bites of the delicious treat.

Donnie answers. "He'll be fine, I have S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. catering to his every desire."

"He's probably passed out on the couch as usual." Leo chuckles, his usual smirk accentuated in the firelight. Everyone laughs a little. "Not to change the subject, but where's your tent, Raph? It's not exactly where you left it, you know..."

Leonardo gives the most shit-eating grin, and Raphael looks so distressed that you look to where his tent used to be, and, low and behold, it wasn't there anymore. Raph is very audible, although he doesn't say anything at all, it's mostly stuttering and struggling to respond. His brothers laugh.

"How is that funny?" You almost laugh. It sounds like such a ridiculous think to laugh at. You look at Raph curiously.

"I-its just, um... y-you know... it could be dangerous out here! W-wolves and stuff! So I just, uh, just thought that maybe you shouldn't be all by yourself! Is... is all..." Raph makes out, visible sweating, causing his brothers to laugh. You can't tell if it's the orange firelight or his blush, and you hope it's the same for you, because you can faintly see his tent in the distant darkness; a few feet from yours. "You could get ramshackle-d!" He finishes.

"I do not think you even know what ramshackle means." Donnie looks at Raph with an expression of annoyance, and Mikey responds.

"Y/N seems like the kinda guy that would get ramshackle-d!"

"Man, I'll ramshackle your face!" You laugh, very grateful for the relief of awkwardness and glance at Raph, who looks absolutely anxious. You stare at him for a second. "It's getting late, I think I'll turn in now. Night, guys."

You walk into the dark, the chorus of "good nights" following you before the only sound you can hear is the crunching of rocks under your feet and Leo's annoying voice faintly saying, "I think your girlfriend wants you to go to bed now, Raph."

You blush and shake your head. Leo is a jerk, that much is certain. As for the rest of it...

#rise raph x reader #Rise raphael x reader #rottmt x reader #rottmnt #x reader #camping #wip #raphael #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt

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unreadpoppy · 8 months ago

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this has been happening a lot recently so I wanted to talk about it here

y'all gotta reblog (and comment) the fics you guys like. This isn't twitter, the only person that knows you liked that post is the author and likes don't really say much here on tumblr, bc sometimes you like a post cause you'll read it later not bc you actually like it.

The only way other people will know that you actually enjoyed something is by putting it in your blog through an rb.

And like, I'm talking about reblogs here but also, commenting is so, so, so important bc that's how you truly know that people are reading, that they are enjoying it.

Because, here's the thing: Yes, i am writing fics bc I want to, and they are first and foremost for myself, but...I'm posting them for a reason. If they were for my eyes only, I wouldn't put them here and in AO3. I want people to interact, tell me what they think, I want to build community and I can't do that through likes alone.

I cannot tell you guys the amount of times where one single person left a comment an my fic, maybse something as short as "loved this chapter!" an it gave me the boost to write the following chapter.

no one is obligated to comment, or to reblog, I know that, and I'm not demanding it, but this is a...idk plea feels like the wrong word, but maybe something to consider?

Like, I made this comparison to a friend. To keep a fire burning, you need to keep adding fuel, and protect it from the wind, add more wood, blow a little on it. Sure, you can get that initial spark of flame, but it's only going to actually keep you warm if you care for it and in a very weird way, that's how it feels for me. Yeah, I can post the first few chapters and all, but if i'm to keep posting and writing and having ideas, i'm gonna need so kindling too from others.

idk but yeah

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ninathekllrr · 3 months ago

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I hate having to make posts like these cuz I feel like all I bring to this god forsaken app is drama and I WASNT gonna say anything thing but the persecutors thought it’d be funny to like. “Expose” me ???

For context; I’m apparently lying and faking being groomed and said “groomers” ex decided to make a callout post on me about it cuz he became friends with said person again idk. I can’t find the post but if anyone sees it floating around please lmk or atleast check in with me before believing anything the post tells.

Both these people are notorious for being problematic online and harassing people, and doxxing !!! mostly over discord but they are on tumblr as well (unfortunately ☠️)

That’s listed below in red is what I’m upset about.

Sexual assault threats, dox threats, manipulative tactics, groomer like behavior, threats of violence, cyber/emotional abuse, stalking, ofc harassment and more.

My point is, if these people keep spewing things about me I will make a doc on them!! I also have their personal information. I won’t hesitant to report them to their schools or even get the authorities involved. Because this has been going on for months now and I just want to be left alone.

I don’t want contact with EITHER of them and it’s highkey saddening that they both seemed obsessed with me. Clearly they are, if the “groomer” has been up my ass since April, and now his ex is up my ass too —> so I would like if these two would stop contacting people on discord spreading false information about me and to stop posting about me, don’t even BREATHE my name all together ‼️‼️

#creepypasta #fandom #slenderverse #creepypasta fandom #drama #I’m about to live the creepypasta fandom yall #say bye bye to discord and tumblr as well #I’m a teenager on the internet give me a break 😭#☠️🎀#ninathekllrr yaps

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janicekao · 6 months ago

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Control

(Joel McHale & Jeremy Allen White x Black OC)

Pairing: NYC Head Chef x Black OC

(dark smut)

Carmen Berzatto x Black OC

(fluff)

Summary: NYC Head Chef enjoys degrading

his chef apprentices.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, non con, emotional manipulation, degradation, very large age gap, painful sex, violence, breeding, crying, dark romance, hate sex, toxic, etc.

6099 words

(she’s long but hopefully worth it)

Wattpad link:

Author’s Note:

First tumblr post! (Idk what I’m doing) My friend and I were talking about The Bear (2022) and how absolutely crazy that one minute cameo of Joel McHale (Head Chef character) when he was absolutely tearing a brand new hole into Jeremy Allen White (Carmen Berzatto character) in the "NYC flashback scene" because it was just awful and intense!!!!

Here is the scene, and there isn't any show spoilers:

youtube

We agreed that the way Joel was yelling at him, had a bit of tension to it and it lowkey seems like Joel's character is the type to get off on being a complete dick.🤣

So I then had an epiphany LOL!

Joel McHale is literally 6'4 and lowkey beekeeping age level of hot, his character is constantly yelling and making people feel like shit! So this would make a great oneshot story for the readers with a degradation kink.

Enjoy my babies <3

———

Prim realizes that it's now the fourth time that Chef Carmen has told her that she's broken the sauce...

The Head Chef has finally taken notice.

He hovers close by her as he watches the mistakes continue to happen.

She begins to gulp with fear as she tries to earn space between her and Head Chef Joel.

"Chef, I-I appreciate your input, but I-I'm getting approval from Chef Carm—"

"And now you're getting approval from me, stir the fucking sauce, Chef." He immediately interrupts her stuttered plea.

She begins to stir the butter sauce quickly.

Mixing it with a metal spoon isn't how it is done, and she knows this. However with her nerves being racked, she stirs with the first thing that comes to mind, a goddamn spoon.

He grabs her wrist.

"Are you fucking dumb? You'll ruin the sauce, where's your fucking whisk?"

"Right—fuck.. what was I thinking?"

Chef Prim beats herself up with thoughts over her simple and dumb mistake.

Pressed behind her against her left hip and ass cheek, Chef Joel enjoys the gyrating of her thick frame as she whisks frantically into the sauce pan.

His cock begins to ache as it stiffens into a full erection...

Hard enough for her to notice it pressed against her uniform if she weren't being shouted at and quickly approaching an anxiety attack.

The tears streaming down her face only makes Chef Joel want to smile, aroused and concealing the devious grin peeling at the corners of his lips.

He continues to sternly whisper over the young girl, causing her to panic and hardly be able to focus as the massive man invades her space and continues to distract her with his harsh criticism.

"I swear to god Prim, you're already heavy handed with salt... if those salty fucking tears drop into this pan you're fucking out of here. Suck, it, up."

She sniffs her tears back, gently whining and wanting the torture to end.

God, he loves her sweet sobs.

Joel shuts his eyes as they roll into the back of his skull. He quietly gulps back his pleasure as a bead of precum leaks out of the tip of his erection.

Wrecking her is the best thing he's ever done.

He could lick the tears streaming down her reddened cheeks, he'd even inhale the bratty whines that spill from her tongue.

"STIR THE SAUCE, CHEF!!!" Joel shouts louder in her ear, her friend from Culinary school, Carmen Berzatto wants to stand up for her... but instead he keeps his eyes down, and continues his own job.

Standing up for another chef is something that you just can't do in gourmet cuisine... Speaking up could put both of your asses on the line being that all chefs have to do their jobs perfectly.

"You're terrible at this. You're no good at it.

Keep going faster. Why are you so slow? Why are you so fucking slow?" He continues his verbal abuse towards Prim as her only friend Carmy, continues to ignore what is happening.

Prim frantically whisks so hard that she nearly throws out a hip. Little does she know, Chef Joel doesn't actually care how hard she stirs, he just wants to feel her wiggle a bit harder on his cock.

As much as she worries about stirring, she completely forgets to lower the heat.

The butter caramelizes far too dark and becomes burnt.

"Shit!"

Prim has an outburst from her own disappointment.

Sadly, cursing in a fancy restaurant like this is highly looked down upon... another reason for Joel to bitch at her.

"Burnt the sauce and now you lack hospitality and respect!"

Joel lets her have it.

"What are you doing here? You are absolutely shit at everything! A pathetic sack of shit."

She tosses the smoking sauce pan into the sink and the other apprentices begin to laugh at her being that now the kitchen smells of burnt butter.

With eyes full of tears, Prim looks up at her boss once more.

He can't even stand her sight. "Go."

"Hands!"

Chef Joel yells for the attention of each of his workers.

"Everyone, take your half hour before the dinner rush.

When you get back, someone better be able to make me a fucking herb-butter sauce for the Lamb Chops on tonight's House Special, or I'm going to blow my own fucking brains out! Move people!"

The chefs are able to breathe again.

Finally, their thirty minute break that they only receive because it's legally obligated.

Carmy usually would take this thirty minute break to stupidly gobble down some garbage microwaveable dinner, knowing that he's one of the best cooks the world will ever see.

He also enjoys to take this time to get a few puffs off of a calming cigarette, but today he puts his lunch and cig to the side for a talk with his friend Primrose Dodson instead.

Knowing that Prim has been a bit of a crybaby since their days back in Culinary school, he knows that he can probably find her sobbing outside somewhere near the dumpsters.

Carmy takes his chef jacket off placing it in his locker before he begins his search for Prim outside, soon enough finding her exactly where he thought she'd be.

"Primmy." He gently coos as he lights a cigarette anyways.

"Come on, you've gotta do better than this.

We are big time now, you can't start to cry when things get tough."

"Carmy, come on!" She wipes frantically at her tears.

"It's not like that! You act like I cry over nothing!

Don't you see how that asshole talks to me?!?"

He sighs.

"Prim he talks to everyone like that...

We endure a few months of his torture and maybe one day we will get to be as big time as he is.

Maybe snag a few of those awards, huh?

That would be nice, right?"

Carmen gets her to smile gently.

"I guess." She shrugs.

"It's just that fucking sauce!

I-I don't know where my brain's at today! I've made that sauce hundreds of times...

In our career Carmy, we can't make mistakes.

Everything has to be perfect! Honestly, I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you're so perfect."

Hearing Prim call him 'perfect' immediately warms his heart...

He nearly blushes a violent red, being that compliments from Prim overwhelms him ever since he realized how bad he crushes on her.

"Ahhh, shut up!"

He teases, gently bending over her and wiping the tears from her stunningly soft features.

"You and I graduated from the same class.

If I'm perfect, then what are you?"

"Trash."

She continues to speak down on herself.

He watches upon her, feeling his heart beat loudly for her.

Carmy kisses the side of her cheek.

"Not even close."

He pulls her up from the dirty gravel as she brushes off her pants.

"Listen." Carmy continues.

"We are going to get back in there after break, and you will speak to Head Chef—"

Prim interrupts."But Carmy!—"

"Shhh." He hushes gently.

"Let him know how determined you are.

You are not one day of bad sauce-making, you are a million days of an incredible chef!

Don't give up Prim, you belong here."

...

Prim softly absorbs Carmy's positivity and support...

"Okay, fine.. I'll do it."

"Atta-girl!" He grins softly.

"You'll be just fine. Hey listen, enjoy break, but I'm going to get back inside and check on the schedule and meal prep.

You got this Prim, I believe in you sweetie."

———

As Prim pulls herself together, preparing to ask the boss for a second chance, Carmen gets back to work... Getting ahead of the game with a few other overachieving chefs.

As Carmy works, he gets a surprise visit from Head Chef Joel.

"Why do you hire fucking idiots?"

Joel frightens Carmy as he sneaks up behind him.

"Excuse me, Chef?" Carmy continues to work.

"You heard me right." Joel continues.

"When I'm not around, I expect you as leading chef apprentice to get rid of the fucking trash, why has it taken you so long to fire Primrose Dodson?"

Carmy gulps.

"Chef, I do believe in her talent Chef Joel.

I believe she may be having a rough day, but I have seen what she can do. She is an extremely talented chef."

"You've seen what she can do."

Joel begins to chuckle as he repeats his words back at him.

"What can she do Carmy? Suck a mean cock? Fuck you real good? Why else would you be chasing behind her and kissing her cheek by the dumpsters?"

Carmy's eyes widen in shock.

Head Chef watched them, meaning that he also heard Carmy and Prim call him an 'asshole.'

But what should Chef Joel care for? He knows that he's a prick, he knows how he treats people and he loves it.

"No sir." Carmy continues.

"It's nothing like that at all. Just friendly support.

See, Primrose and I went to culinary school together.

I know for a fact that she is one of the best bakers, dessert artists, and gourmet cooks one could ever meet. She has a way with exploring the sweetness and tartness of fresh fruit like something you've never seen before."

"Cut the bullshit Carmen." Joel presses.

"She has you choked up every time she bats her eyelashes at you. Don't act like you haven't noticed how her ass sits in the uniform... Clearly bought a size too small to fit her like a glove and make you lose focus of her careless mistakes."

"SHE IS NOT A CHEF, CARMEN."

Joel begins to shout.

"You can send her into my office all that you want...

I don't give a fuck that she can bake sweets in an EasyBake oven, I'm looking for chefs!

Not soft eyes and big titties.

I expect more from you, stop disappointing me."

———

Break winds down to only fifteen minutes left and Prim finally finds the courage to enter Chef Joel's office.

Carmy watches in the distance...

But strange enough, his sad puppy-dog eyes don't give her the reassurance that she needs...

Poor thing has no idea how this is going to go...

As she enters into the tiny broom-closet shaped office, she begins to see why Joel is such an asshole. His office sucks!

"Chef Joel?"

She gulps, noticing his glasses off and clearly trying to relax for the last few minutes of break.

"Oh... I apologize, maybe I can come back?"

"No." He clears his throat.

"Good, come in, I was meaning to speak with you."

Prim smiles with hope.

"That's great to hear actually, you see, I was hoping that—"

Joel immediately interrupts her, uninterested in what she has to say and already having his mind made up.

"I'm moving you to the front of the house.

Waitress aprons are in the supply closet down the hall and to your left."

Prim's heart instantly breaks.

"What?" She frowns.

"I'm not moving to the front of the house! I'm a chef!"

"You're really not." Joel sighs.

"You can either go to the front of the house or go home.

You've been such a fuck up, I was just going to kick you out, but your boy Berzatto asked graciously for me to give you a second chance.

"So do that!" Prim continues to explode.

"Then give me another chance!"

"YOU ARE NOT A CHEF."

Joel stands abruptly from his desk and his shouting begins to frighten Prim as his tone rains down upon her.

"You're a whining little fucking baby who can't take the heat of the kitchen. Now take off that fucking uniform!

Try wearing a low top blouse, it'll up your chances to earn better tips. You are not tough, you are bullshit, you are talentless."

Not being able to take another day of being yelled at by him, Prim slams her fists against his chest, sending Chef Joel back a few steps to give her the space she's been wanting all day. "I HATE YOU!"

Noticing that she just put hands on her boss and has washed her dream career down the drain, Prim's eyes widen as she gasps.

She clutches her hand against her mouth in disbelief of what she's done. But, Joel isn't the type to back down from an altercation... most of the time, he's the one who starts them.

Joel grabs her, easily manhandling her fight as he painfully pins her wrists over her head and against the door.

Her anxiety worsens.

Oh, what a terrible feeling it is to not be in control.

"I read your stupid fucking resume.."

Joel begins to grit his words through his tightened jaw and grinding teeth as his anger peaks at an all time high.

"The only thing decent that you can make are desserts.

Everything else, you ranked mediocre scores in Culinary School. I sat at that panel and crossed you off of the list immediately because I knew you had no fucking business getting one of the twenty spots here at this apprenticeship.

You never have deserved your spot here."

"Chef! Get off of me!"

Prim fights as tears stain her cheeks and his large body begins to crush and suffocate her against the door.

"Ms. Betty fucking Crocker."

He begins to chase her eyes each time she turns away from him and his glare. Joel laughs deviously at her sure displeasure. "Why are you even here little girl?

Could have easily had yourself a little rat infested bakery in Harlem, but you actually thought that you were better than that... So let me be the first to tell you, you're not.

You're nothing. You'll never work gourmet and you'll never be an executive chef."

His words puncture her like a knife...

If it weren't for the amount of force keeping her up by her wrists, Prim's knees would've buckled by now as she'd sob to the ground.

...

"Please let me go."

Her fight is over, she loses the headstrong battle and completely drowns herself in tears.

"I-I'll tell HR what you've done to me, I will write a report on you!"

"HR?" Joel laughs.

"I am HR, I am everything here.

This is my restaurant and everything in it belongs to me... Even you."

Prim finally relaxes enough to notice that it isn't her pens and note pad stabbing her in her pockets. It's Joel's throbbing hard-on pressed flushed against her heat.

Releasing one of her wrists, Joel forces his hand inside the front of her white uniform pants.

Moving too quickly, he misses the opportunity to enter through the waistband of her panties, but that doesn't stop him from tearing them to the side and grabbing her sex inside of her pants.

She squeals as the seams from the bed of her panties tear and pop on her skin. Torn in the perfect place, leaving her pussy bare and in the palm of her boss's hand, Prim gasps at the sudden surprise.

Fingers rolling through her slick folds, she watches up at Joel in disbelief.

His pupils have burst... He's hardly even there mentally.

Hungry for her reaction and hatred for him, Joel's mouth waters as he watches her doe eyes fear him.

"A-Assault!" Prim stutters.

"Sexual Assault and Abuse!"

"I'm not even doing anything, Prim."

Joel's voice darkens into baritoned groans.

"You're the one fucking my hand."

Confusion dazes her mind.

Prim looks down at her hand holding his wrist for more of a support than a fight... She also notices the rolling in her hips, clearly getting relief as she rides the fingers of his hand.

She hadn't even realized...

Poor girl fighting the disagreement between her mind and body more than her actual fight with Joel.

But God, his hand feels good.

Long digits, cleanly short trimmed nails, a wide palm, and slightly callused skin...

A hand that has made the finest cuisine for royalty and famous public figures for the last twenty years.

A hand that is constantly talked about in every culinary magazine known to man.

A hand that is insured, and worth more than the lives of the entire kitchen staff!

... And here it is edging Prim, bringing her to a well deserved cum after another long day of pure hell.

She tightly wraps her arms around Joel's neck as the two part lips and share each other's moans in an aggressive tongue kiss.

Joel pushes from her tongue kiss, listening to her mewl with needy desire. He places his now soaked fingers into his mouth as he would taste a sample of his chef's cooking.

He absorbs it on the tastebuds of his tongue, scowling in thought as if he were coming up with opinions of what ingredients it may need.

"God you're sweet, Strawberry Shortcake."

He teases once more at Prim's love for baking dessert.

"Take all of your clothes off, I don't even want to see a hair-tie on you, understand?"

Joel takes a seat in his desk chair, manspreading his lap as it soon appears to be a yummy seat of bent long legs for Prim to sit on.

"Yes, Chef." She immediately obliges as every article of clothing leaves her flesh.

"Lock the door."

Joel gives his demands in a daringly hush tone.

Prim turns around, turning the lock and jiggling the handle to be sure of no surprises later on.

As she turns back around, she notices Joel's pants and briefs halfway down his legs, fisting his erection as he watches her with devious intentions.

Prim quietly watches at a distance...

She knows that being six-foot-four, Joel is the tallest man in the kitchen... most of the time, the tallest man in any situation.

She figured that he would be well endowed, but what she didn't expect was to see his erection being the same girth of her own wrists...

Gorgeously tanned and long with an already moist rose colored tip, but far too large for what she can take.

"Come 'ere."

Joel softly commands her to come back to him as he notices her frozen stare while clinging near the door in fear.

Continuing to tug on his cock, he pauses to feel on the soft young flesh now infront of him. His erection continues to stand tall, flush against his abdomen where his navel would be under his chef's shirt.

Joel's large hands nearly eat up her waist, almost doubling over as his fingers wrap around her.

He bites his lip as he watches the way his strong fingertips dimple her soft flesh.

He loves the gentle pudge of her belly and the roundness of her childbearing hips.

Prim's breasts are full, perky, and sit up with puffy brown areolas and pointy nipples of aroused buds...

Pretty like the appearance of his world famous almond-butter blossom cookies topped with Hershey kisses.

A million dollar baby.

She's so feminine it kills him inside, he finds her to be extremely malleable... Wanting to make her his, and have her as his sex-pet.

Better yet, let her have him as whatever she wants.

Used to the boring sex and cold bones of NYC's Fashion Week models that he constantly gives on the house martini's to, he absolutely can't wait to devour all of Prim's rich warmth.

He knows how beautiful she is as his heart beats wildly out of his chest for her, but will he ever tell her that? No.

He's rather far more excited to call her his slut as he watches his cock bulge through her stomach.

"You're thinking I could easily tear you into two, aren't you?" Joel's lips gently part as he takes a nipple into his mouth with a gentle kiss.

Prim trembles at the feeling of his mouth on her, softly placing her fingers on his shoulder for stamina.

"Oh?" He thinks to himself. "Someone isn't touching this body the way they are supposed to."

"I should split you into two, shouldn't I?"

Joel's eyes stalk up at her as he gives the same treatment to her other breast.

"For being such a fuck up? Hm?

What do you think Primrose?"

A hot tear graces down her cheek as she closes her eyes, trying her best to fight the enjoyment of Joel's gentle kisses now coming down the skin of her belly.

Joel's right hand leaves her hip and winds back to violently leave a smack on her ass.

The recoiling bounce of her round ass cheeks makes his cock twinge with desire.

"You haven't answered me once."

Prim yelps at the sudden sting, she presses her other hand onto his shoulder and depends on him fully to keep her standing.

"No Joel!" She sobs.

"Who?" Joel frowns at the sudden use of his name.

"Chef!" Prim corrects herself.

"I-I don't want you to split me into two."

"Say that you're a fuck up, Prim."

He continues to get his pleasure from degrading her down to a pulp of mush.

"Admit to it. You're a fuck up, and you're a whore."

Her eyes dart open, glossed over with tears.

"I'm not a whor—"

Joel immediately stands from his chair, towering over her as he forces out her submission.

"I swear to god, I'll fuck you right now without any mercy." Joel threatens her with an injuring grasp to both of her arms.

"No!" Prim weeps, stuttering what he wants to hear her say in vast embarrassment.

"I'm a fuck up, and I-I'm a whore..."

The shame burns her face, however, she's glad that he has sat back down.

"Good, baby."

Joel coos as he pulls her back to him.

"Now I'll take care of you. Work you open a bit, hm?"

Hearing him use the term 'baby' to refer to her, makes Prim melt. She likes when Joel is nice to her, but maybe she likes when he is mean too.... How else did she end up here with soaked thighs?

As he notices her nod, Joel gently lifts her onto the edge of his desk.

He places her legs on his shoulder blades, and between her thighs open widely for him... Kinda like looking down at a dinner plate of gourmet cooking.

He notices Prim's entire body trembling and he loves every second of it. Kissing her ankles on each side of his face, Joel bends his face closer to his desk as his wide tongue swipes through her cunt.

The feeling turns her arms into putty and Prim quickly catches herself as her elbows slam keys down on his computer's keyboard.

Joel finds her clit.

Licking the bud and slurping it into his mouth as it pulls from her flesh.

Prim shouts a desperate moan, attempting to push his head away from her.

Her clit already swollen and toyed with from each time she'd squeeze her thighs together for sexual relief.

Joel tossses her hand out of his way, however allowing her to run her fingers through his hair because he likes the feel of it.

His slurping and swallowing is lewd and far from gentle, as if he were trying to devour her completely.

His tongue presses at her entrance and begins to probe as far as it can go inside of her.

Warming her to the coming fuck, Joel places a finger inside and realizes how tight she actually is when he struggles with adding the second one.

"M'fuck! Chef, please let me up!"

Prim nearly hyperventilates as a spring painfully tightens in the midst of her stomach.

"I feel like I'm going to pee! Let me go!"

He forces in a third finger instead, it's uncomfortable, but it also brings her closer to her cum. Joel's fingers spasm upwards, knuckles curling and knocking on the walls of her g-spot.

"Joel!"

She complains, now prying his fingers from out of her cunt and his lips from the kisses at her clit.

"I-I can't hold it!"

Joel knows from the way her pussy is collapsing around his fingers that she's almost there, however watching Prim worry that she'll piss herself gives him the ultimate amount of joy.

Her breath hitches inside of her throat, as she gasps for air once more. Her pussy soaks the desk and between her thighs as she finally squirts for him.

Wanting to shout from the exhausting orgasm however she can't, inaudible due to it stealing her adorable raspy voice.

Pussy numb and worked through, Joel can't wait to find his nut in the depths of her womb.

Devious thoughts of keeping Prim here, swollen and fat with his baby as he watches her work his kitchen, crying obnoxiously and tired, makes him so horny.

The man is truly awful... So terribly mean that he doesn't even know if he likes her or hates her.

But to him, there isn't a difference.

Prim's eyes hang almost shut as her full lips are parted, clearly tired while still coming down from her high.

He snatches her off of the desk and into his lap like a rag doll. His cock painfully rock hard and balls blue from being so patient with her.

"Please.." Prim begs softly.

"I can't, I need a break.

I-I can give you head but Joel, please I'm numb."

"Don't want your mouth." Joel refuses as he prepares to fuck her dumb. "I've had enough of that all day today."

He lets Prim lean against his body, chest to chest in the office chair as she lays her head tiredly against his shoulder.

"But I won't talk back again."

Prim continues to plead mercilessly.

"I promise Chef Joel."

"Hush now, Prim."

His mouth marks her with love-bruises as he sucks rounded red and purple hickies on her flesh.

He wants the world to see who she belongs to, he wants Carmy to see who she belongs to.

"Save your promises for something you'll actually keep.

I know that a brat like you will always talk back."

Lifting her off of his lap, Joel lines his cock with her entrance. Only gliding it once through her slickness for lubricant, he then sets Prim all the way down, slowly having her take his every inch of impalement.

"Fucking, shit." Joel hisses, tightly shutting his eyes at how nicely her insides hug him.

"Ahh, I'm not lasting long in this shit."

"M'Joel!!!"

Prim whines, arms wrapped around his neck as he lifts her underneath her thighs and lowers her continuously back onto his cock.

"I know baby." He gulps. "Fuck— I know."

Checking his watch, he realizes the restaurant is soon to reopen for the dinner crowd.

He isn't very worried, confident that a warm cunt like this will have him cumming in under a minute.

Joel sets Prim down on the entirety of his erection, pressing his hand over the prominent tummy bulge and the cushiony flesh of her cervix.

"Fuck that's good." He mewls.

"Listen to me." He begins.

Prim silently hangs her head in the crook of his neck.

He snatches her face into his view, strong fingers cupping her soft cheeks and puckering her lips.

"Who are you fucking?"

Joel grunts with each thrust into her, suddenly becoming furious if anyone else has had this pussy.

"No one."

Prim's warm cinnamon scented breath warms his face, he knows that she's been sneaking cinnamon streusels out from the desserts tray prepped for tonight. He can smell it.

Joel could yell, but the sweet warmly scented breath causes a web of his jizz to paint her insides.

He calms himself before he cums too quickly and erupts.

"Prim, I'm not fucking around."

Joel presses on, watching his newest love be bounced on his cock, tired and near drooling.

"I told you to take off your clothes and they instantly fell to the floor. Who else do you get this fucking slutty for?

And don't fucking lie to me."

He strums her clit like a guitar string to wake her out of her sex-daze.

"Just you!" She bursts truthfully...

Determined to gatekeep the new jewel that he has found, he is forced to trust her words.

But Prim is no liar.

What chef apprentice has time for a sex life during their terribly busy schedule?

The best enjoyment Prim gets at home is from a vibrator that never gets her where she needs to be... just helps her sleep.

And other than a few finger-happy frat boys in college, she can't remember the last time she's been touched by anyone but herself.

Pausing with his hips flushed against her ass, and cock still buried deep inside of her, Joel looks at the girl with thoughts of having something more with her...

He shakes the thought from his head...

No. He'll never be that fucking nice.

"I won't be your boyfriend, I won't be your man, and I won't be your fucking friend."

He begins with stern determination.

"But god knows that I am going to fuck you like this every day because you are mine.

If I find out you're giving this pussy away to anyone else I swear I will ruin your name in every worthy restaurant in the entire world. I will have you slinging Big Macs for the rest of your pathetic little life, understand me?"

Joel threatens his young apprentice, but he knows because he is starting to care for her, he'd never actually jeopardize her future.

Prim gently caresses the sides of his stubbles face as she begins to smile lightly.

"Smiling?" Joel thinks to himself.

"Why the fuck is she smiling? Such a pretty smile, but what? Does she think I'm pussy or something?

That she's won?"

"Don't fucking smile at me..." Joel gulps, continuously throbbing in the pit of her pussy.

Prim lowers her eyes into something intoxicating and soul stirring. She begins to arch her back, slowly bucking her hips against him as he watches her come alive and fuck him back.

"I think you like me, Joel.."

"Are you fucking stupid? What did I tell you to call me?"

He gulps.

Prim sweetly nibbles at his earlobe, enticing him with a whisper. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

A caught breath chokes him.

Joel has to catch her hips before her grinding makes him cum.

Daddy?

God he loved that.

"Chef."

He corrects her in a gulp as the muscles in his entire body begins to tighten.

Receiving a kiss from her doesn't help...

He wants to feel these kisses every morning that he wakes up.

Only insulting her can help with the way that he feels right now, so that's what he does.

"You're a terrible chef, a weak woman who cries too much, hardheaded, ill tempered, pathetic, and your sweat stinks."

He lies, her sweat smells as if someone were baking cookies.

"I stink?" She coyly taunts.

"Maybe I should get up then."

Prim attempts to get up and Joel refuses.

"No!"

Sounding desperate, he tugs her back down into his lap, wrapping his arms around her as he embraces her and inhales the smell of her sweet smelling perspiration.

Prim laughs at him as she softly brushes her fingers through his hair. "I thought so."

He's losing...

Losing this battle terribly.

"I despise you." He ups it a notch.

"You think you're winning but you'll be nothing but a toy to me."

"And you'll be nothing but a wet mouth to me."

Prim contends.

Annoyed with her back talk, Joel grabs her arms, pressing them against her sides.

"You are such a b—"

"Bitch?" Prim interrupts, making the Head Chef's eyes widen. "Yeah, I'll be that bitch. The only bitch that can make you cum during this pitifully short lunch break."

He sucks his teeth, nostrils flaring as if angered steam could come out any second now.

Instead of arguing with the pragmatic girl any longer, Joel puts his words to action...

He stands up from the chair, carrying Prim with her legs wrapped around his waist...

He shows her exactly what he means about becoming his toy.

Joel's eyes darken and jawline tightens.

He begins to thrash Prim onto his cock and thrusting upwards into her with an awful attitude of pure rage.

Even Prim, the woman he's determined to have, can't change the ways of an impossible control freak like Chef Joel.

He will have what he wants his way, and no other way is acceptable. Hopefully Prim knows what she has gotten herself into with him.

Arms wrapped around Joel's neck and being fucked into like a whore, Prim sees what he means about being his toy.

He holds her tiny waist and violates her like his personal cock sleeve.

Fucking her with no importance as if she were a fleshlight that he'll throw under his bed when he's finished.

Her eyes widen and the hot stream of her tears hit his back, making Joel grin deviously knowing that she can't take the rough fuck from him any longer.

He huffs and grunts so eager and focused on his finish that he ignores Prim's complaints about his uncomfortable jabs.

A final orgasm consumes her, making Prim once again putty in his arms, hoarse, and unable to complain.

Her nails dig into the skin of his back as she closes her eyes tightly from the shamefully lewd sounds of their bodies slapping together.

Her cunt drips with nectar for him every second and she hates that she has no control over it.

Her pussy clenches in overstimulated waves of shock and Joel's cock spasms as he continues to get squeezed. Jamming his cock in her as far as he can, he releases his hot cum... filling the girl's womb without a thought to pullout.

"Jesus— fuck, you can take cock."

His words are again harsh, however for some reason, they feel even more cruel than before.

As his balls are completely drained and milked, Joel places Prim into his office chair.

Unsure of what just happened, she closes her trembling legs shut.

She gasps as Joel prys them back apart again to watch his seed drip out of her.

Prim's innocent eyes watch up at him as she stares in disbelief... Joel chuckles and licks his lips at the sight of the oozing cum.

She now realizes that possessiveness has nothing to do with genuinely liking someone...

She is exactly as he said, just his toy.

Tucking his cock back into his briefs, the timer for dinner rush goes off on his desk.

As he turns the alarm off, Joel tosses Prim's clothes at her.

"Get dressed." He demands, without a care of her body still being sore and needing rest.

"Get back in the kitchen, and this time don't break the fucking sauce. If I ever see you flirt with Carmen Berzatto again, I'll fire your ass at a drop of a dime, understand?"

Prim sniffles back her tears...

Although her mind is full of confusion about where her and her boss stand at this point, at least she has her second chance to get back into the kitchen.

She wipes her fallen tears, redressing her sex-battered body still dripping of his semen into her uniform...

She gulps. "Yes, Chef."

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