#it is VERY sweet to me that on the outside made the top five despite the fact that it never showed up in the tags

[highvern]

Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter. 

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement. 

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding. 

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy— 

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back. 

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor. 

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop. 

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as  “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place. 

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough. 

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now. 

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation. 

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette. 

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it. 

“You know those things will kill you, right?” 

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth.  “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

���What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.” 

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs. 

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means. 

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music. 

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach. 

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name. 

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection. 

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct.  “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence. 

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?” 

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance. 

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down. 

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin. 

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf. 

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his. 

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs. 

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation. 

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along. 

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?” 

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.” 

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books. 

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months. 

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk. 

“Taehyung.” 

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs. 

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers. 

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch. 

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’ 

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours. 

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again. 

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth. 

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull. 

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive. 

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder. 

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider. 

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted? 

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been. 

“They were out.” 

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing. 

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.” 

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines. 

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.” 

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?” 

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. 

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen. 

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning. 

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom. 

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?” 

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.” 

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back. 

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt. 

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg. 

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely. 

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head. 

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy. 

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth. 

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry. 

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down. 

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens. 

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load. 

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side. 

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth. 

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter. 

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school. 

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed. 

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument. 

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now. 

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[lovebugism]

Okay, hear me out. The reader has a birthday in the summer and boyfriend!Steve is throwing her a little surprise bd party somewhere outside of Hawkins, along with Eddie, Robin and the kids 🥹🥰

thanks for your request!! — the one where steve harrington and the rest of the gang try hopelessly to celebrate the grump of the group (grumpy!reader, established relationship, 2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

A heart-shaped cake sits on top of a rotting park bench.

It’s obviously homemade, slathered with sage green icing that’s visibly uneven — bare in some places and thicker in others. Your name is written on the very center in a darker shade of juniper. At least, you’re pretty sure it’s supposed to be. The letters are sloppy and nearly illegible. It could say anything really, and you’d have no way of knowing.

Several smaller hearts are dotted around the top and the sides, looking more like gloopy circles and poorly drawn birds. You figure they were added as an afterthought, perhaps to distract from the various dents around the edges of the cake.

Despite all that — or maybe because of it — your heart swells with an inhuman sort of warmth.

You didn’t think people cared enough about you to bake a cake for you. Or to throw a surprise party for you. Honestly, you didn’t think anyone besides Steve even knew it was your birthday. The thought makes your chest feel tight, a healthy mixture of mirth and panic.

Several faces smile expectantly at you. You blink owlishly back at them. The twittering sounds of nature fill the anticipatory silence.

“Sorry,” you apologize in a half-sincere monotone, fidgeting awkwardly on the wooden bench seat. “I just… I never know how to respond when a group of people sing Happy Birthday to me.”

Steve smiles and smoothes a palm up and down your spine. His honey eyes flit between your profile and the burning striped candles on top of the cake. “I think most people usually blow out the candles at this point, babe.”

“Yeah,” Robin concurs from across the bench, sitting squarely on the edge to fit beside Dustin and Eddie. Her blue eyes widen as her maroon-tinted mouth quirks slightly upward. “If they burn too low, they’ll set the cake on fire.”

Eddie beams at her words. His chocolate eyes dart between Robin, the cake, and you. “Wait… That actually sounds kinda cool,” he lilts with a soft chuckle.

“No! Not cool!” Dustin argues in response. His bushy brows pinch together in disdain and his nose scrunches at the thought. “We worked hard on this cake, okay? So let’s maybe not ruin it—”

“I thought it was already ruined?” you blurt before you mean to.

The curly-haired boy snaps his attention from Eddie to you, equally as confused as you seem to be. “What?”

You shrug with a flat face. “I don’t know… I thought you guys, like, dropped it on the way over here or something.”

You’re too kind to be mean, too aloof to realize how insensitive you sound. 

You thought it might’ve been the perfect explanation for why the cake looked so… messy. Dustin was a perfectionist to boot, and Max commanded the boys like it was her job to do it. With their forces combined, you figure they could make just about anything five-star bakery-worthy.

This heart-shaped cake in front of you isn’t perfect. It looks more like what would happen to a sheet of paper if you gave toddlers a bunch of finger paint. Because they weren’t trying to make it flawless at all. They were making something sweet for you and having fun together while doing it.

You can imagine the kids laughing as they flick flour at one another and smear green icing on each other’s cheeks. Your chest warms all over again. Your heart glows with a happiness you often keep hidden.

“Considering it’s your birthday, I am actively choosing not to take offense to that statement,” Dustin responds after a beat of silence, a sincere smile on his boyish features.

“We made it ourselves, actually,” Lucas tells you with his own grin. He sits adjacent to the former boy, shoulder-to-shoulder with Max. Despite the many inches of space on either side of them, his bare arm brushes against her freckled one.

“That makes sense,” you mutter to yourself.

Steve exhales a laugh from beside you. His broad hand squeezes gently at your shoulder. “Blow out the candles, babe. Before you actually do set the cake on fire.”

Your chest inflates with an inhale that you blow out through your mouth. The flickering orange flames shift sideways for a moment before turning into wisps of gray smoke. 

The group around you starts to applaud. Some of them cheer quietly for you. It makes your brows furrow with distant contempt. You shrink into yourself, not made to be easily celebrated.

Steve smacks a kiss to your cheek, then. His plush, pink lips smush against your skin and pull into a beam a second later. His eyes sparkle with the sunshine expression when you turn to look at him. 

His arm curls more intently around you to hold you closer. Even though you make no move to hold him back, you melt into him just the same. His smile widens when he feels you grow heavier against him — much less tense than you usually are.

“What’d you wish for?” he wonders with his brows raised.

In a deadpan, you answer. “That goes against the philosophy of wishes, Harrington.”

“Right,” he concurs in a scoff. You feel his chest rumble with breathy laughter. It makes you lean further into him before you realize you’re doing it. 

Steve notices, though — rather quickly, because physical affection never did come easily to you. His already wide smile grows somehow fuller. His nose smushes into your hair when he pressed a kiss to your temple.

—————

The cake quickly disappears as everyone cuts themselves a slice and downs it with vigor. It’s less about being dreadfully hungry and more about there being something innately delicious about homemade pastries. 

Dustin tells you he calculated the recipe himself — comparing the backs of several cake mix boxes and what he knew you liked best. That, along with Max’s strangely distinct cheffing ability, created the perfect cake.

It was just dense enough, just sweet enough, just soft enough.

Despite its mess, it was undeniably made with love.

When Steve dismisses himself to get the cooler of drinks he left in his car, you take your slice of cake with you. You hold the festive plate in one hand and a plastic fork in another. Blanketed by shade at the side of the vacant road, you confess with green icing on the corner of your mouth — “Can we go home now?”

Steve huffs as he drops the heavy cooler on the grassy trail. He rises with a furrow to his brows.

“What? We just got here,” he answers with a soft chuckle, reaching his arm out for you. His knuckles brush gently at your chin as his thumb swipes over the corner of your mouth. 

The action is too quick for you to dodge. Your features scrunch in disgust when he licks the rouge icing from the pad of his finger. 

“We haven’t even finished eating yet.”

“But it’s so hot,” you gripe, face twisted in a distant pout. “And there’s, like, a million things I’d rather be doing.”

“Well, that’s rude,” the boy jokes with his head tilted to his shoulder.

“Everyone just, like… keeps talking to me. And looking at me. I don’t like it— it’s weird.”

Steve smiles, pink and lopsided. “God forbid someone pays a little attention to you every now and then, huh?”

“You do it enough,” you grouse like you’re not grateful for how much he loves you. Your face is fixed in a deadpan to conceal the adoration you have for the boy in front of you. Your eyes twinkle with all of it, anyway. “I don’t need anybody else to give me attention.”

Steve’s chest swells — with pride, perhaps, or maybe with how much he loves you. A healthy mixture of both, maybe.

“Damn right, you don’t,” he singsongs lowly before leaning down to kiss you. His soft lips press against your scowl. He feels like the white puffy clouds above you and tastes like the blue sky surrounding them. 

You don’t want to lean into them, still a bit pouty in your way. 

You regret not kissing him harder the second he pulls away from you.

He picks up the cooler and flashes you a soft, sympathetic grin. “C’mon, babe. Just a little while longer, okay? And then I’ll take you home. I promise.”

He’s about to walk away from you, turning on the heel of his dirty sneaker and expecting you to follow him. 

You don’t, though. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in one place, calling out for him before he can get too far. “Wait!” you blurt, still quiet in your plea.

Steve stills. He turns back to you, his brows raised expectantly. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence passes. You shift your weight on your feet and hold yourself tighter, letting the sounds of chirping birds and rolling breezes fill your quiet until you can find the words — the courage to say them, more like.

“That wasn’t my wish,” you confess gently.

You don’t say anything more than that, despite how vague it sounds. You expect him to understand you without having to plead for him outright. He usually does, though sometimes he loves to hear you beg.

Now, he’s just purely confused. 

“What do you mean?” he presses, not teasing you, just trying to understand you better.

“When I blew out the candles,” you explain, monotoned and still slightly pouting. “I wished that… you’d kiss me.”

That wasn’t entirely true. 

Actually, you wished that all of this would be over a lot quicker than how dreadfully slow it was going. 

You loved your friends, you really did, but you were not the same extroverted being who loved surprises that your boyfriend was. You’d much rather pretend you weren’t another year older and spend the day in bed, wrapped like a present in Steve’s arms.

And you don’t mean to lie about all that, but you don’t know how else to ask for another kiss.

You’re still learning how to be more openly affectionate with him — how to let Steve be more affectionate with you. He’s learning how to give you more space just the same. He can be too suffocating at times, he’s found, and his relationships have wilted like a dying flower accordingly.

You’re both looking for that sweet spot, the exact middle between too clingy and too distant. You’ve found that in each other in a lot of ways. The two of you bring a bit of both that balances you out perfectly.

Your words make Steve melt. 

He exhales a sharp laugh through his nose, chest swelling with so much love that it hurts him. His nose scrunches as he walks the short distance back to you. “Well, what kinda douchebag would I be if I didn’t let my girl’s wish come true on her birthday, huh?”

He drops the cooler at his feet again, and it crunches beneath the green grass. Melted ice and canned soda swish audibly from within it as he takes you in his arms. In the cool shade, his wide palms smooth around your hips to warm you like the summer sun.

You keep your arms crossed over you like you didn’t just beg him to be this close, still holding your plate in one hand.

“A huge one,” you answer, voice as flat as your face as you blink up at him. “You already are, actually.”

“Says the girl asking me to kiss her,” Steve jokes with a crooked grin.

Though your own smile threatens to quirk the edges of your lips, you fight to keep it hidden. “I take it back,” you quip at his teasing.

You’re lying, but he already knows that.

“No, you don’t,” he lilts with the shake of his head. He beams at you, perhaps too fondly than you deserve, and leans down once more to give you exactly what you wanted.

His pink lips lock with yours in a mixture of vivid hues. He tastes like sweet cake and sweeter soda. The rough pad of his tongue licks against your mouth to get a taste of you, too. It’s as soft and sweet as you’re still learning how to be.

[nipuni]

I have another DW report! It took a while because we've been hosting friends and family visiting from abroad for a few months now and had a lot of work on top of that so we haven't had much quiet time alone to sit and watch but we made it to the end of S10!!

I'll share our thoughts under the cut because it's a lot!

We adored 12! His run was amazing, one of the best! A lot of episodes became all time favourites for us and Peter Capaldi is now our second favourite Doctor after David. His acting is impeccable and he is a delight to watch. He is so funny and inspiring and everything The Doctor should be, absolutely loved him!!

We enjoyed Clara, her characterization had some inconsistencies with her having several different arcs that felt disjointed at times but she is so memorable and made herself into such an integral part of The Doctor's life. Watching her change and their relationship become more codependent and unhinged as time went on was super interesting. Nardole grew on us. And BILL? Bill!! Oh my god dear Bill managed to outsuffer even Martha and that is saying a lot, I'm still traumatized I was not expecting the finale to go that way for her what the fuck and what a finale that was, devastating, we loved it!! but GOD sweet Bill her fate was brutal, I would have loved to see her go on more adventures and grow 😭

Now, the highlight of these seasons for me was Missy!! I'm obsessed, she's my favourite version of The Master so far and my favourite character after The Doctor, I LOVE HER 🙏 She needs more seasons! (I'm aware of the audios I'll get my ears on those as soon as I can) She's hilarious and clever, mean but soft and so so gorgeous AHHHHH She somehow manages to be terrifying and endearing at the same time and you can feel and share The Doctor's hope for her. Her death broke my heart, what do you mean The Doctor will never find out she stood with him in the end!! The romance, the tragedy!! I didn't dare hope they would take their story there and they went above and beyond. Every second she was on screen I was holding my breath and kicking my feet for real. To the people that said I would love their relationship when I started watching DW you were so right and know me too well 😳

Some of our favourite episodes from 12's run were Listen, Mummy on the Orient express, Heaven Sent and The doctor falls. Though there are a lot of good ones really, all the ones with Missy in them, Deep Breath, Flatline, Oxygen, the heist one, Thin Ice, The pilot, the one with the ghosts underwater, the ones with the pyramid monks, the parts with River, the one with the boxes and Zygons, the last special, all really enjoyable!!

We are also five episodes into S11 and I have to admit that despite our best efforts so far we are not enjoying Chibnall's writing at all 😫 but it's still early so we stay hopeful, maybe it's just a rough start and it will pick up after all the exposition. We will keep going so that we are all caught up by the time the new season starts airing!!

I hope you are all doing well! I am once again apologizing for not replying to asks in ages!! I've been mostly away from social media for months outside of posting every now and then so they keep piling up and it's become intimidating 😫 but I'll get to them soon!!

I also wanted to thank you for all the kind comments and tags on my art and photos, they really keep me going so I'm very grateful!! 😭💖

[mysticalsoot]

a very godbur christmas

a godbur smut fic with so much fluff

➸ note; happy birthday to me and happy Christmas event kick off to you all, have your first smut fic from me, don't expect another for a good while! it literally took me like five months to write the actual sex part but merely less than a day to write the aftercare- also thank you to my darling sister for reading it every time i forced asked her to bc i needed an outside opinion

➸ pairing; godbur x afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms aside from anatomy is used!)

➸ summary; you make a request during one of your long stint stays, only to be met with two more gifts you didn't see coming. sweet sex with darling godbur !

➸ warning; afab anatomy is mentioned, like pretty blunty at that- size kink, daddy kink, soft top wil, a bit of degradation but honestly wil can't do that for long, p in v, penetration, kissing, really soft aftercare, praise, subspace if you squint, non sexual use of daddy after the fact. excessive pet names (puppy, bunny, honey, hun, pup, baby, sweetheart, sweetie, darling, love, love bug), use of slut and whore (the brief degradation). observations of will being a lanky, giant of a man (nonsexual context then)

➸ age-rating; 18+

➸ wordcount; 4.5k

main masterlist // godbur masterlist

MINORS DNI!! please do not read if you're under 18 and if you do, that's your fault, not mine.

you'd be spending a lot of time with wilbur lately, staying longer and longer each stay. being held by him, having quiet domestic moments with him. not to mention getting ready for christmas, decorating and baking and filling him in on each and every tradition. you knew you'd have to go soon, be sent back to mortality. this never lasted long. you both knew it, despite your deep growing hatred for the fact.

after you told him of the gift giving tradition, he'd been asking what you wanted for christmas, what he could give you. despite the fact he would without a doubt give you way more than you asked for.

you turn over to face him, a hand on his chest as you look down at him, "I know what I want," your statement was straight forward but the god before you still gave you a look of question.

"what? eternal life here? I told you, love, you can't-" you cut him off with a quick and open mouthed kiss to his lips and he gasped softly before settling into it. his hands which you noted were soft and rough at the same time, perfectly shaped-

"no, I know I can't break you on that," you pause, sitting back on your knees beside him on the bed. you had your eyes angled down on his, both of your gazes were filled with lust. you didn't need to say it, you were both thinking it, "I want my visits worth while," you didn't elaborate, you simply left it there and everything was understood.

your lovely god smirked, he smirked with such conviction and teasing that you couldn't tell if it annoyed you or made you feel giddy inside. you were so unsure. he grabbed your hips with his hands, and pushed you to lay on your back as he rolled his body on top of yours.

"oh darling, I'll make it all worth while," he spoke lowly, a sort of desire and desperation braided into his voice. his words came out as almost a growl or sorts, but fuck, it only made the fire spread and build inside you. you wanted him. badly.

"don't hesitate then," you smirked and just as your words finished leaving your lips, he dove down to take them into a bruising kiss. lips melded together in a deep exchange, teeth pulling them and nipping and you swore he nearly drew blood. he kissed you with such haste and need, you weren't sure if this man was a graceful god or an animalistic human starved of this intimacy.

wilbur began to run his hands down your sides, the kiss still intense and connected. at first, his palms and fingers grazed and held your body with a soft care, and then you whimpered and a switch flipped inside his brain. he let out a soft groan, his kisses leaving your mouth to messily line your jaw, down onto your neck. he nipped and nibbled, a suck or two here and it felt like the gods were gracing you with a personal fireworks show. and in all honesty, one of them was.

his hands got harsher in their grasps and squeezes after that switch of intensity was flipped. he was groaning roughly into your neck and his hips leaned down, meeting yours gently and you gasped, your hands finding purchase in the curls on his head, tugging softly. you felt a hardness graze your thigh through your pants and his.

his body was warm as he presses himself against you, he's warm and comforting, like a golden wave of energy surrounding you-- you pushed him up and you began to undo the buttons on his shirt and he lowered his kisses for a moment before he swatted at your hands gently.

"no, no, baby- I do the undressing, got it?" He growled softly into your ear before nipping at the earlobe and he pulled back. he hastily undid the buttons on his shirt, pulling it off slowly, making a show of it. you squirmed under him and he shot you a warning glare. you wanted to know what the warning was about, you wanted so desperately to find out. "don't be such a whore, sweet one--"

His words drew a whine from your throat and he only chuckled, "I die so I can see you and be fucked-- that's more whorey than trying to take off that damn shirt-"

His lips quirk into a sharp smirk, looking down and shaking his head, "oh you're right, aren't you, baby? you're such a whore you find anyway you can to be under me, hm?" He holds the smug smirk as he dives down to attack your neck in kisses, not bothering with your shirt. he's just as desperate as you, with the way he's hastily undoing his pants, unbuckling and unbuttoning before throwing them on the ground beside the bed.

He looks to you, slender fingers ghosting over your own jeans and you nod. He hesitates, "words, baby."

And you nod again, rolling your eyes in a playful and loving way, "yes, you may,"

"Good baby," he growls softly, doing the same as he did with his own pants, pulling them off and throwing them aside without a single care. he dives down again, kissing you deeply and taking your bottom lip between his teeth. he nips and sucks at it, your whining echoing against his skull and he can't help but whimper against your mouth. you want to throw a snarky comment at him, break his ego just a little bit, but you stop. your mind is fuzzy, for one, too over took with anticipation to come up with any decent comeback. but, for two, you can't help but feel an incessant love in his actions.

he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, "Color, darling?" he speaks so softly, a whisper, a promise. he's so soft all of a sudden and you haven't a clue why.

"Green, daddy," You say it without thinking, without second-guessing the syllables that spill from your mouth. when he freezes and looks at you, your face burns red. you hadn't ever used the name in a non joking context (what he thought was joking), let alone in a sexual manner, so to say the least; it caught you both for a whirlspin.

"sorry- sorry, wilbur- it was an acc-" you're immediately cut off by a searing kiss, one that makes you take a few steps back and squeak before you're able to settle into it, to realize it's even happening. when you do, you sigh, grabbing onto the curls on his head and tugging slightly, whimpering into his mouth and whining against him. he slides your underwear down, letting it bunch at your knees, he's slow with how he sinks his hand down. two fingers between your folds and circling your clit in a smooth and soft motion. you whimper, a soft moan following as he pulls back, still circling it and adding slight pressure as he holds your face in the other hand. his knees are what's keeping him above you as he kisses your jaw so sweet and soft.

"how are you feeling, baby?" wilbur whispers, and you let out another sweet moan as he adds a bit more pressure. tt's gentle, it's loving and it feels so fucking good.

"Good.. sooo good.." your words slur a bit, and he chuckles at how far gone you already are. how long has your desperation been this bad?

"mm, you miss my hands, honey? They way they press-" he emphasizes with his fingers pressing against your entrance, but not sliding in. You're not as ready as he wished you'd be. granted you were soaking the moment your sweet moment with him turned less than sweet, he's specific with how much teasing and taunting he does before he… commits, shall I say. "you miss the way daddy makes you feel, huh? The way I fill you up? when you're so full of me you can't do anything but whimper.. such a beautiful little slut, huh? all for me.. for your god."

you nod softly, wrapping your fingers into your curls as you whine; eyes wide and soft, full of love for the god above you. words slipping away, unable for you to even use them, to speak back to him.

"love," he grabs your chin, pinching it between his fingers and you whine at the way his hand no longer rests between your legs, "use your words, baby," he coaxes, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"mm, yes," you mumble, squirming under him, whining and desperate for more of his touch, "please?" you beg, not elaborating yet it's both clear what you're wanting. you want more than just his fingers, need more-- but he has his methods and you're much too busy feeling to even bother with arguing.

"just a few more minutes, okay? only a few, bunny," he leans his face down into the crook of your neck, placing soft gentle kisses on the skin as he slips his pointer finger inside you; grazing your walls as his thumb gently circles around your clit. he watches as you open your eyes to glare at him, visually telling him off for the teasing he's doing. he chuckles softly, "okay, okay, baby," another finger joins, and he curls them back as he begins to move them in and out. his mouth leaves behind marks in the wake of his kisses and you can't help but whine at every sensation and touch he provides.

as he moves to pull his fingers out, he goes back in; deeper. curling his fingers when he pulls back again, then spreading them gently, watching you closely for any sign of pain or discomfort you may be feeling. all he notices is the soft moans that slip from your lips every few seconds, a response to each touch he makes.

he uses his free hand to rub your cheek, keeping your eyes and attention on him as his fingers do the work, "bunny, how are you feeling?"

"mm more?"

"use more words, hun," you whimper, whining softly up at him and using your eyes as a method to convince him. it takes a few more moments of this before he nods, "color?"

"green," you smile softly, gasping when he pulls his fingers away, slipping them in your mouth to suck off your essence and taste yourself.

"good baby," his lips curve as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping your lips with his thumb before he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. he readjusts his position, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth as his hands lift your hips up to meet his, "color?" he mumbles against your lips; sounds of breathing melding together as he situates himself and lines up at your entrance.

"green, promise," you bite your lip, eyes cast up on him, your hands tangled in his curls as his hands slink up onto your back.

"good baby.. that's it," he hums, lips finding purchase on your neck; nipping and sucking with glee as he slowly sheathes his cock inside of you. you feel the familiar stretch of his size, eyes daring to look down at how much of it you can see through the bulge that always forms. his fingers ghost over the rounded area of your stomach and he groans, "already so full of me, aren't you?" he smirks, eyes met with yours as he rubs the skin of your stomach, settling inside you and letting you adjust to how big he is.

"mm yeah.. feels so good," you drawl out, eyes fluttering shut as you feel him bury himself just a bit deeper; hips flush with one another.

"oh, baby, I haven't even moved?"

"so?" you slur, biting your lip as he holds your waist, thumbs rubbing your skin.

"color?" he murmurs, moving to kiss gently against your neck and collarbone. you want to feel this heaven for a bit longer. you don't want him to move yet, you need to revel in the feeling of being so absolutely and desperately full of your god.

"yellow.. need a minute," you look up at him, fingers running over his lips and tracing the shape, and you lean up to bring him into a sweet kiss, pulling back and mumbling, "green,"

he smiles, kissing all over your face as he starts to move, thrusting with care as he builds up a quicker pace but being as gentle as possible. his hands roam your sides, fingers gripping as he shuts his eyes. groans slip from his mouth, lips agape and letting every moan and grunt slip past and travel to your ears.

"fuck, you feel so good, baby.." he groans, opening his eyes to glance down at you and watch your expression. your mouth is open slightly, whimpers and moans meeting his. he leans down to bring his lips to your neck again, leaving behind sweet love bites.

your sweet sounds of pleasure speak for itself, soft moans and whimpers are music to wil's ears. his thrusts become rougher, each one going deeper than the last; your mind reeling as your fingers grip the sheets.

"fuck, fuck," he grunts, face hidden in your neck as your back arches up into him, "feel so fucking good, baby.. such a good slut, mm? fuck you're so tight," he murmurs, using every word he can to his advantage.

his hands move from your waist to your hips, gripping tightly as his thumbs draw messy circles with every thrust of his hips. the sound of heavy breaths, moans and skin against skin fills the air; the scent of sweat and sex swirling with it.

you gasp at a particularly deep thrust, eyes rolling back as his head tucks into your neck. he slows down a moment, "you okay honey?"

you nod rapidly eyes shutting tightly now, and he slows a bit more, lifting his head and grabbing your chin with his hand; forcing you to meet his gaze.

"words, baby," he croons, kissing the tip of your nose before a moan slips past his lips.

"faster, please?"

he nods, smirking as he quickens the pace, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet, slow kiss that says everything words do not convey. his hands fall back to your hips, lifting them slightly to give a better angle; and you whimper at the change. the way he goes deeper inside of you, the head of his cock grazing the deepest wall inside of you. his shaft running over that sweet spot with every thrust he makes, every movement of his cock.

your mind felt fuzzier and fuzzier by the second; melting into useless mush. there wasn't a way in hell you could speak if you had to now, all you could focus on was the tightening of your stomach and the absolutely heavenly feelings your darling god was providing to you.

wilbur begins to leave soft, messy kisses across your face as his thrusts begin to falter, getting messier and less precise with each movement.

"are you close, bunny?" he mumbles, kissing the shell of your ear as your moan a bit louder than you have, the knot in your stomach tightening tighter than it has before. you reach onto his back, digging your nails into the skin and creating half moons. you muster up the energy to nod your head, rapidly moving it as a yes; whimpers and whines following suit.

he grunts, hips sputtering as he draws closer to finishing, you swear you're gonna finish first, but lord knows he'll do everything he can to finish with you. he mumbles a quick question to you, if you want him to pull out or fill you up. and despite your melted mush for a brain, you mutter a response to the latter. you want him to stay inside you, to fill you up so full that all you can feel is him.

he glances down again, biting his lip and nearly coming right then when he yet again, sees the bulge he creates. he moves a bit faster, trying to bring you both over the edge. he reaches to grab your hands, intertwining your fingers together as he pulls you in for a final kiss.

"come with me, okay?" he mumbles against your lips before muffling any cry or moan you make as you come undone beneath him, he follows suit, filling you completely with his warmth. he gasps softly, pulling away from the kiss as he moves to rub your waist with his thumbs, kissing your face sweetly as you both catch your breath.

"baby, you did so good.. so so good. you took me so well, hun.." wilbur murmurs, fingers rubbing soft circles as he stays buried inside you for a few more moments.

"such a good puppy, yeah? sweet baby.." he sighs, pulling out not too long after he speaks, laying beside you and pulling you on top of him.

"so tired, daddy.." you whisper against his chest, nuzzling closer to his warm body as you can. his fingers sift through your hair, ghosting kisses on the top of your head.

"I know baby, but you were so good, did so good.. rest here, okay? get a little nap and then we'll have a bath, mm? how's that sound?" he coos, kissing your cheek as you sleepily smile, hands wrapping around his neck as he pulls you up closer by your lower back. he pulls the covers up over both of you, rubbing your back as he lets you nap for a bit.

before you fall asleep, you quickly mumble to him, "you were good too, daddy.. thank you," he smiles softly at your tired and slurred words, kissing your temple as he watches your breath even out.

he rubs your back as you nap happily on top of him as he watches you, thinking over the rest of his gift to you. this wasn't even part of it, yet you asked for it and he happily provided. he had other intentions, the big one being letting you stay in his world for eternity; or however long you wished. along with any other gift he had collected and created, wrapping it up and hiding it away in a room you never went into.

not too long after you fell asleep, he kissed your forehead and laid you down gently, tucking you in as he pulled on his underwear. he went into the bathroom, starting a warm bath with bubble bath and scented candles lit around the room. the lights off and the only light being the softer yellow light of the candles.

he sat on the edge of the bathtub, running his hand under the faucet, making sure it's not too hot or cold. he then put some rose petals on the floor and in the tub. he set up some towels on the stool beside the bathtub, with water and snacks for you both (but mostly for you).

he sat there waiting for the tub to fill before he heard you pattering close to the bathroom.

"daddy?" you called, sniffling softly.

"in here, pup," he smiles, standing up and walking up to where you stood by the doorway. you changed into a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. he kneeled a bit, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, "you okay, love bug?"

you nod, wiping your eyes a bit, a few more sniffles before you hum, "a bit, thought I lost you,"

he frowns, shaking his head before he pulls you into his chest, rubbing your back and kissing your head.

"I'm here, baby, it's okay," he coos, leading you over to the edge of the bathtub to where he picks you up and pulls you onto his lap, "how about you go pee while I go to the kitchen, yeah?"

you nod softly, hugging him close for a second before hopping off his lap and handing him the blanket before he scurried out to give you privacy; turning off the tub in the process. he hurried down the hall, slipping into the kitchen where he starts a cup of tea for you. you don't particularly like it, but he knows you'll drink it if he makes it for you. it helps your throat, you know this but it's just so gross to you. when the tea is finished, he carries it back to the bathroom, setting it on the little empty table next to the stool. he smiles as he sees you sitting on your knees, leaning over the edge and playing with the water.

"you ok, bunny?" he whispers, hand rubbing your back. you look up at him, eyes filled with love and adoration. you nod softly, standing up and reaching for him. he picks you up and holds you close, kissing your cheek over and over again.

"bath?" you mumble, body held tight against his. he chuckles softly and nods, pulling back and helping you undress and slip into the bath. he pulls off his own boxers before he slides in behind you, pulling you against his chest, fingers running over your belly.

he kisses your shoulder, his fingers sifting through your hair lovingly.

"how are you feeling, little bear?" you sigh, leaning your head back as he draws little shapes on your belly with his finger tips.

"tired, but good.. thank you, for earlier."

he smiles, nodding with a kiss to your bare shoulder, "you're welcome, sweetie," he pauses, nuzzling his nose against your neck and under your ear for a moment, "you want me to wash your hair, baby?"

you nod softly, humming, "mhmmm," then rest your hands on his knees, rubbing your thumbs over the skin through the water. you admire the difference of size between his legs and yours, giggling softly.

"what, bun?" he croons, rubbing shampoo into your scalp, running it through your hair as he waits for your response.

"I'm smaller than you, by a lot," you mumble, chewing your lips as you scoot closer against him.

"yeah, you are, huh? do you like that?" he asks, smiling softly to himself as he tilts your head back; rinsing out your hair.

"yeah, easier to be held by you," you sigh, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back further onto his shoulder. he smiles sweetly, a kiss to your nose as he finishes washing it.

he lets silence drape over you both, fingers rubbing circles on your belly again before he speaks up, "I have a proposal for you, for your Christmas gift."

"mm? yeah daddy?" you look up at him, eyes fluttering open as you gaze up at him, your hands reaching to play with his fingers.

"how do you feel about getting to stay here indefinitely, mm? be my immortal love?" he watches as your eyes widen with excitement, pure joy filling you as you sit up and grab his hands tightly, splashing some water in the process.

"really?"

"really, baby,"

you smile widely, muttering thank you's to him as you hold onto him, hugging his neck. he holds your back, pressing your smaller frame against his chest as he chuckles at your joy.

"are you that happy?"

"yes! yes, I am, I get to stay with you and be with you and I get to have you to myself. i get to have my daddy and- i- thank you," you whisper the last part, calming down from your rant as you take a few soft breaths. he reaches forward to caress your cheeks with his thumbs, rubbing back and forth as he smiles admiringly at you.

"I'm glad, and you're welcome, love bug," he pauses, gazing down at you as you move to sit in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as he drops his hands to your back again, "no more sex for a while?"

"nuh-uh, I am sore, maybe in like... a week?" you suggest, shrugging nonchalant as he rubs your upper arms.

he chuckles softly, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, "youuuuu mean in a month?" he smirks softly, drawing his hands down from your arms onto your sides, pulling you towards him.

"well, maybe on Christmas Eve but-"

he smirks, kissing the corner of your mouth before he whispers, "in front of the fire?"

"with a candle?"

"look forward to it then, my love," he smiles, kissing your cheek before letting you rest on his chest, his hands running up and down your back as you sigh. you nuzzle your nose against his skin, finding peace in his warmth and touch.

not too long passes before he's sitting up with you, holding you by your lower back and pressing kisses to your jaw, "ready, baby?"

you nod softly, yawning tiredly as he steps out of the bath first, picking you up and standing you up against him. he holds you to his chest as he drains the tub, reaching over to the towels to wrap you up and help you dry off. he then dries himself off, which you just watch him with tired eyes, wanting to help but not having the energy to. you also knew he'd swat at your hand and get onto you. then he'd say; 'i'm meant to take care of you right now, not the other way around'.

you felt it was unfair, but arguing with him was fruitless. you whined softly, watching as he quickly put on his underwear. he smiles, shaking his head softly, "hold on, hun,"

he stood up, boxers on as he starts to pat you dry, "I wanted to help you, though," you whisper softly, looking up at him; damp curls hanging over his forehead as his light stubble gets highlighted in the dim light.

"mm.. maybe next time, okay? I'm here to care for you and you need to be cared for. deal?" you hesitate before you nod, letting him gently pat you dry, wrapping you up in the towel before he picks you up to carry you into the bedroom.

he sets you down on the edge of the bed as he hurries over to the dresser, grabbing a set of his boxers for you and one of his sweaters. you'd choose his clothes over yours any day and he knew that better than anyone. he helps you put them on before he brings you into his arms again, a few giggles from you before you both lay on the bed. you're tucked against his chest, head under his chin as he rubs your back again, playing with your hair.

"you okay, my love?" he whispers against your hair, kisses placed at the crown of your head as you nod.

"better than okay, daddy," you nuzzle against his chest, hands on his bare waist as you rub your fingertips and make shapes on his skin.

silence befalls on both of you, and he swears you're asleep, until you tiredly mumble, "I love you, daddy," which earns a smile and a sigh from him.

"I love you too, baby. you rest now, okay?" he mumbles, a few quick kisses before you fall asleep. he watches for a few minutes before falling asleep himself; feeling fully at peace with his love in his arms, being held and safe.

you'd both say this night was full of beautiful Christmas gifts, dare I say the best you could receive.

nsfw taglist; @lillylvjy @enanon (ask to be added!! 18+ only ty!)

[onyourhyuck]

Sorry Heart, | 이 해찬 (M)

prologue- “I’m sorry.” + “I ruined us over I know, but now i’ll do the fixing.”

tw- ANGST ANGST ANGST, fluff (ish) romance. exes to strangers to lovers? haechan’s very heart broken 🥲. Jealous hyuck. Yeojun mention. Kiss scene <3

Notes- If y’all never listened to sorry heart by nct dream then you’re missing out. This song makes me ugly cry.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

haechan never felt so haunted by a memory until you finally combusted at his selfish behaviour, everything you did reminds him of things he sees everyday. the same old love songs don’t feel the same way. he can’t sleep at night, because out of nowhere his nostrils would’ve been smelling your sweet chocolate scent and perfume. the same hobbies he had, vanished just like you did, the moment you walked out on him his heart shredded into miniature pieces.

He reminds the way you screamed on top of your lungs making him so flustered, the way your frustration and built up emotions made him realise how much of a fool he was. Your tears were enough to make him notice that you’ve been hurting. He was hurting you all along, without noticing too.

“I can’t take this anymore Donghyuck. If this is how we will end up, i don’t think I can survive. You’re— killing me.”

Hyuck reminds exactly how those words came out. You were holding all the power in your voice to speak them out, to not hesitate. But what you were most struggling to say was five words. He knew the moment your swollen crying eyes look into doe-eyes.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

You suppose the philosophical quote you heard all the time, became true in your life; to love something truly you need to lose it. Haechan never understood it. Until you walked out of his life on your own.

You looked so happy without him. You smile, something you lost when you were with him at the end of your relationship. Haechan remembers that he would be the one making you smile all the time, but how did it all go wrong? When did it all go sour? Where did the sweetness romance and cherries leave to? He just couldn’t believe that he mistreated you. He got angry at everything you’ve done. Haechan swears he didn’t mean to hurt you. To neglect you.

However he isn’t hurting because of himself. He’s more likely to be angry with himself over the fact that he’s lost the love of his life, not due to someone else, but because of him. He was his own enemy. What really is hurting him from inside and out, breaking every will of him to live on— was you.

Losing you was like he lost a part of himself. As if you were the biggest spiritual awakening within him to realise how much of an asshole he was to you. He hates that he was late, late to realising that you were right all along.

You clearly don’t want him in your life anymore. He knows it with the way he would see you enjoying your life. On your social media, posting fun night outs with friends. Meeting new people, enjoying life to the fullest. He hates how he’s the only one drowning in sadness and regret, while he could still have you in his arms.

So why did he late night around 3.00 am stand in front of your apartment, in a simple white shirt and black shorts that he wears to bed with slippers on, knocking at your door as he was soaking wet from the unbelievable storm outside. Despite you most likely to shut the door on him, he ran to your apartment building…

The moment the door swung open, he felt his eyes lift themselves wanting to see your face. Disappointment hit him, but what made him quiver with menacing emotions was jealousy.

“Who are you?” The guy asks watching haechan from head to toe as he was putting on the last shoe. Haechan looking the guy straight in the eyes, at one point the stranger felt like he was interrupting a staring contest.

Hyuck responded with a dead blunt tone, the one that would make anyone shiver as if he was disliking this guy just from laying eyes on him. “I’m looking for Y/n.”

“But it seems like she has company. I’ll go.” Haechan tells turning around to leave, maybe this was a mistake he thought. But then your voice reaches as you made your way to the front door.

“Yeojun who is it?” You conceal with a happy smile. The tall boy moved out of the way revealing haechan. The moment their eyes met something sparks, all the negative emotions coming back to life. You felt your throat thicken, finding it hard to swallow to speak.

Haechan stands silent like a grave. The way you were looking at him, which he can’t blame you, he just knew the minute you stare at him your smile withers away, like the seasons changing. He was frozen in the spot, wanting to move and run away, but the way his legs immediately harden like he was glued on cement curses his life.

“Haechan…” You whisper under your short breath. Yeojun’s mouth widens as he heard you say the boy’s identity, he quickly moves out of the apartment. “Ahh- I suddenly have to leave! Y/n— our Michael Jackson karaoke has to wait for next time.”

You watch Yeojun leave without letting you speak, which left you and Haechan all alone. You’re standing in front of the wide open door as he was shivering, standing like a cold soggy burrito with his white see through shirt wrapping on him tight.

Your eyes went to his wet honey brown skin and hair going flat. You gulp, the way you still find him attractive curses your mind over your heart. Your heartbroken heart.

“I- sorry. This was a mistake. I was…” he pauses finding the right words, though he doesn’t want to openly tell you he misses you when he just saw a guy leaving your apartment. As much as he was jealous and upset that you seemingly found someone so quickly, he still has to respect your decision..

“Was..?” You repeat softly watching the boy who was struggling. Struggling to breathe in your presence even.

I was missing you. He repeats in his head, afraid to speak these four simple words that weren’t so simple to communicate.

There would be emptiness surrounding you with a quiet boy, the boy you once loved, perhaps, still love. But you weren’t even sure what you want, what you feel, what you think of the man in front of you. Haechan didn’t realise it, that all this pressure pushing him was his final downfall, until you point it out.

“Haechan you’re crying.” Y/n softly whispers as you wrap the boy in your arms, pulling your bodies together in a tight embrace that felt home. you felt like home. His one and only safe place still even though you broke up with him for a very good reason. The boy gurgles on his cries, heavily sobbing. Nose scrunching, eyes raining tears as his lips quiver apart with each strain in the voice.

He was rambling on and on about how sorry he was, the amount of sorry’s you heard coming out of him left you stunned. The way he hand his freezing cold hands wrapping on the back of your soft white and beige sweater, gripping it as if his life depends on it. As if he knew you would leave him again after this, so he savours the last time he will ever enjoy your hug.

Not a minute in you pull the boy in the apartment that he was always so welcome into, but somehow this time it was different. It felt like a stranger’s home now. You wrap a warm dry towel on the boy who stays quiet for a few minutes.

He didn’t say much, in fact he wasn’t sure what to say in this situation. Neither did you honestly, you didn’t know what to say.

You glance at the boy’s face noticing that his hair was still wet. You bring the smaller towel in your hands, slowly moving closer to haechan on the couch you’re both sitting at.

“Here let me dry your hair. You’ll get sick if you don’t dry it quickly.” you mumble as he didn’t say anything but let you, reach over his hair and ruffle it around for a few moments. He sniffles, with his red nose and swollen eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He suddenly said properly, without anything interrupting within him. “I am sorry we ended up this way.”

You bite your bottom lip hearing his words. You weren’t sure why it hurts to hear these now, but if it was last week when you broke up with him you would’ve been happy to hear that. That he was sorry. But now you felt the opposite. You didn’t want him to feel guilty or blame himself. As much as it was his fault it wasn’t worth making him feel that way, especially when you’re still not over him.

“It’s okay.” You softly reply and he turns to you as he holds your wrists that were so busy drying his wet hair. He brings them down and holds it tight like a warm hold. You were stuck in his eyes, softly gulping. “Don’t tell me it’s okay. This is far from okay, because I lost you.”

He would spit.

“This isn’t okay y/n, not for me. This feels like hell. I hate seeing you smile without me. I wish for you to be happy with me. I know how much you suffered because of me and I don’t blame you for leaving for yourself. But please, I came here not to make you tell me this situation is okay when it is not.”

You stand quiet where you are sitting as he was holding your hands in his palms, your eyes couldn’t shift away and your lips forgot how to move. He faces you with so much emotion that it was impossible to count how many he was feeling and portraying.

“I ruined us over I know, but now i’ll do the fixing. Please, Y/n. Let me fix us. I don’t even care if you have a boyfriend anymore because I’m not giving up on you.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend..” you trail half confused as you’d watch him suddenly break out of the seriousness. His lips part in the same confusion, turning around the apartment as he points at the entrance door. “Then…who was..”

“Oh…Yeojun— Hyuck that’s a friend from work.” You deadpan and watch the boy shy away from his overall imagination that simply fucked him over by making him thing thinks that were quite the opposite.

“O..oh” he lets out. Somehow he felt relieved and glad but at what cost?

You watch the boy as you softly smile pulling him closer which causes the boy to look flustered for a minute. You lean pulling him into a warm embrace once again. Your face buried itself in his shoulders that smelled exactly like polluted rain and his husk strong honey smell that made you melt.

He was breathing heavily as he hugs you back pulling you tight. The boy felt so welcomed in your body as if it was one with his own human proportions. You just fit right in his arms.

“I don’t want to give you up.” You mutter to him, pulling away to face him. The boy’s eyebrows raise as his eyelashes flutter in happiness. “Really..?” He quietly babbles.

The way haechan felt stimulated with the way he hears you say that you don’t want to give up as much as he does, brings ultimate joy to him. He couldn’t ever give you up. The boy felt like the happiest person in this world. You were his happiness.

“Yeah.” You reply back smiling shyly. “So please Hyuck, fix us. I want us to be happy together.”

The way he leans in to peck your lips at first to make clarification that you weren’t just saying it. The boy pulls away to slowly ask with his eyes if this was okay, in your ideal response you flash your lips straight into his, kissing him deeply. The way your affection and longest longing for each other travels in the kiss made you and haechan bloom like a dead flower back into life.

All those feelings were reborn in the most wonderful way. Haechan finally made a way with your sorry heart, by admitting to his prideful ways and selfish doings when you left. You were the ultimate catalyst for the good change to come. With negative always comes a positive.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu<3 Reblog this fic and follow me for more to stay updated it helps a girl out <3

[sommerflue-22]

Just a Little Longer | Kyojuro Rengoku

Featuring: Kyojuro Rengoku, gn! reader mention of Shinobu Kocho, Hinatsuru, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyuu Tomioka

Content Warning: modern setting, angst, hurt/no comfort, implied/referenced character death

Word Count: 0.6k

A/n: For N, wherever you are.

──────────────────────────────────────────

You heard the front door opening and immediately put down the chopstick. You grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned your hand as you made your way to the genkan. Your husband was untying his work boots, his briefcase was leaned against the wall.

"Hi, honey," you greeted, "How's work? I roasted some sweet potatoes this afternoon. Shinobu came over and we talked about anything and everything!"

Kyojuro turned his head and smiled at you. "Hello, dear. Great to see you again."

"Do you mind snacking on the sweet potatoes for the time being? I haven't finished cooking for dinner yet." You knelt down, reached for his face with your hands and planted a soft peck on his forehead. "I'm cooking tempura."

"I'm sure it will be delicious." Kyojuro replied, his deep red irises locked on yours. Oh how you adored the way his smile reached his eyes.

"I hope so! Go clean up a bit, I'll put the sweet potatoes on the table."

"(Y/N), dear…"

"Shush, hurry up." You went back to the kitchen, taking up the chopsticks and flipping the tempura after leaving him in the genkan.

You adored your little, simple apartment. A place you called home that you and your husband had bought five years ago. You adored your small kitchen, the lovely backsplash that your husband chose, and your pots and pans collection. You loved the open floor design and how the orange glow of the evening sun illuminated your entire home. And, of course…

You loved your husband. The man who just walked out of the bathroom with his sleeves rolled up. You cracked a smile at him (you couldn't help but smile whenever he was around). Kyojuro kissed the top of your head while wrapping his two arms around your waist.

"See this? Octopus-shaped sausages!" You pointed at the sausages you fried.

Kyojuro chuckled. "They're very cute, dear."

"I know right? I just figured out how to do it! Hinatsuru taught me how to."

"(Y/N)..."

"Oh, and I met Sanemi in the supermarket today! Can you believe it? Sanemi running errands for Giyuu?"

"(Y/N), I think you should stop, my dear." Kyojuro softly gripped your shoulders and pulled you to the side, away from the stove.

"Eh? Stop running errands in that supermarket? Is it because it's too expensive?" You blinked, completely perplexed by his request.

"No, of course not," Kyojuro said, resting his forehead on yours. "You have to stop pretending that I'm here."

You stood still. Everything seemed and sounded to come to a halt, as if the entire globe had also stopped spinning. Your apartment, which was gleaming from the sunset, your kitchen, the food you were making, and the sound of people and vehicles outside. You heard nothing. 

"Kyojuro?" You asked.

Kyojuro's head tilted, his soft lips parted as he nestled against yours. You kept your eyes open the entire time, waiting for him to pull himself away. Kyojuro pecked your lips again, this time holding your face in his calloused hands.

"It's alright, dear." Kyojuro stroked your cheeks and drew you into an embrace. "Live just a little longer."

You awoke in a sitting position, your body cold and your mouth dry. The room was dark despite the fact that the crescent moon shone through the window. You could hear the buzzing of the night light and the ticking of your alarm clock. Then there's a strong smell of dust from the cardboard boxes that surround you and contain your stuff.

Then it all came crashing down on you at once.

The small apartment you'd called home was no longer yours. The collection of pans and pots was long shattered. Food was decaying, and the bathtub and sink were completely dry. There was no place to return to because Kyojuro was your home.

And Kyojuro had breathed his last.

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A/n: I actually have a longer version of this. I'll post it on Ao3 and tag you when it got published if you want.

Thank you for reading! Find me on Ao3 and Twitter

[weekend-whip]

Ninjago Fic Rec Week: Day 6

Prompts: Dynamic Duos / Zane Recs! (I uh used up a lot of my dynamic duo recs already THUS here is a Zane-centric list. With perhaps some duos sprinkled in. But Mostly Zane.)

Zane Recs-

My Battery is Low (And It's Getting Dark): THE PEAKEST ZANE THAT EVER PEAKED!!! There's so many little pieces of this I could quote and quote and gnaw on forever (and I wILL) because mmmm. It's just so good. Zane being (mostly) alone with his thoughts prior to Vex interfering in NS11, with the most pointed Zane's perspective I have ever borne witness to *bows in respect*

upon these ashes, hope can grow: Or, five times the group ordered takeout and one time they didn't (or, Zane learns how to love his once-favorite pastime once again). It's snappy, well-placed, and oozes with Zane's character, although I'm so used to fluffy fics about Zane's cooking skills that this one hit me like a brick! But, that would make sense, given that it takes place after NS11 ;w;

Five Times Zane Was a Nurse: And the one time he wasn't! Ninjago is a really good series for 5+1 fics, lemme tell ya. And DietCokeIsLife definitely sits at the top of t hem!

Fractal: Zane reflects upon being a robot Nindroid and it is beautiful ;w;

MAKING ELECTRICITY// YOU CAN FEEL IT IN YOUR MIND: Zane gets struck by lightning and a cacophony of very vivid descriptions and punchy character moments follow after. A little bit bittersweet, but lovely and with a nice ending!

Cut the Act: A movie!verse Zane fic chronicling how this once "just a normal teen" has to explain what he really is to his friends...even if he is pretty sure they already know. ...Maybe. The ending made me grin like an idiot, though.

Backwards Compatibility: Zane and Pixal go on a date for the first time! ...despite being "together" for such a long time beforehand. They're still very sweet, though. Recc'ing this entirely for the snappy title ;P

From Sunrise: Zane, and the view of what the world looks like from his eyes compared to that of his friends (or, Zane likes waking up early and cold environments. Everyone else does not.)

Snow: POST-PILOTS ZANE with his cold snow day logic getting in the way of some realities for Cole and Jay. Extremely fluffy and full of fun and interesting dynamics and just all-around super cute~!!! (and Kai and Nya are there too <3)

doesn't have a title but Zane is curious to a fault: And that's all you need to know! But, I will tell you that the ending has such a glorious bite of bitter irony to it~

Wobble: Zane and Cole discuss some aftermaths of Cole's fault, all while guilt eats Zane alive. The uneasy TENSION in this one??? Delicious??? Also sad ;w;

more title-less goodness: Zane and Cole discuss the former's break up with Pixal, with neither mentioning the underlying implications in between. You know I love me some Zane and Cole interaction, but this one is zested with, like, dread and a really good, if not somewhat devastating, point to be made.

Crushing loneliness is what he leaves this world with: *lies down* How does spinchip always have such a way with words aaaaaaa (prose about Zane's S3 sacrifice that consumes my mind constantly)

Ship of Theseus: AUGH I ALMOST FORGOT THIS ONE, despite the fact I go back to it aaaaaaaaall the time????? Definitely counts as a Zane fic despite the fact he is "Unavailable" for most of it, but in the quest to get Zane back online from an anonymous viral attack, the group reflects on the Nindroid and the impact he's had on all of them, even outside of their own little group ;w; Also shoutout to the antagonist for this one, it's actually quite a fun little twist~

[thatlovinfeelin]

Feather Light | One | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Prologue

It was a simple text from the man she considered to be her uncle, well at least one of them. She was on the East Coast, enjoying some long overdue time away from home. But with the simple three sentences that flashed across her screen, she was already getting ready to fly back to Miramar. 

Top Gun graduates are being recalled for a special detachment. I would like you to assist. He will be there.

The flight back across the country was easy, especially since she had her private license. Though she never entered into any branch of service and flew like her father, she did assist as an outside contractor. There was something about analyzing flights, both friendly and enemy, that she loved. But more than that, she loved the pilots. They were her family, always had been. 

The very first place she went was The Hard Deck. After growing up in Fightertown, Miramar, or whatever someone wanted to call it, she knew that all of the pilots would be there. No matter who they were, or where they’d been called back from. 

She smiled at Penny, who seemed to notice the exact moment she walked into the bar. Penny, though having no real blood relations to her, always seemed like a big sister. She watched over her and tried her best to keep the young woman out of trouble. 

“Here you go sweetheart,” Penny said, setting a bottle of beer on the bar, “On the house.”

The young woman smiled, taking a long sip, “Thanks Penny, you’re always too good to me.”

“Well, Rosey,” Penny smiled almost devilishly, “You don’t leave your phone on my bar.”

Rose looked to her right, spotting an older man in an old bomber jacket, beer in hand with his phone on the bar for all to see. She couldn’t help but laugh as she raised her beer towards Penny, “Well, looks like it isn’t on the house then.”

“Am I missing something?” The man spoke, turning to look at both women. 

Rose let out a large breath and leaned against the bar, “Well, damn, they even brought you in, huh Mav?”

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk forming, “No Uncle Mav?”

She shrugged, taking another sip of her beer, “Well, considering the last time I talked to you was my freshman year of college. I think we’re beyond me calling you Uncle Maverick, don’t you, Captain Mitchell?”

Regret flashes across the man’s face, pain too. He saw Rose as family, almost considered her to be another daughter to him. He loved her, but he betrayed her too, “Why are you here?”

“Same reason you are, I assume,” She pointed out, her gaze hardening, “Ice called me back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are several people here that I’ve been waiting to see.”

As Rose Buchanon began to walk away, she heard Penny’s voice once more, “That girl used to worship the ground you walked on, now she can’t wait to get away from you. What happened?”

Rose forced herself not to look back as she made her way around the bar, but she knew Maverick was looking at her. Probably wondering what happened to the sweet little girl he helped raise. But the second she caught sight of a small group by the pool tables, the ice in her veins melted. An almost inhuman sound came out of her as she caught a woman’s eyes. 

“Phoenix!” Rose squealed, running to hug the other woman. 

“Tigger! I thought you were out East?”

Rose laughed at the sound of her old callsign, though she was never a member of the Navy, she gained one due to her close proximity and family history. Despite having the name since she was five, it never went away. She equally loved and hated it, but her dad gave it to her so there was nothing she could do about it now. 

“I was,” She laughed, “Lounging peacefully on a beach in South Carolina, next thing I know I’m receiving the closest thing to orders that I ever hope to get, and I was headed back to the shitty airfield that I flew into so I could fly back here.”

“Damn, looking good Tig,” One of the other men almost groaned, dropping his arm over Rose’s shoulders. 

“You too, Fanboy,” She joked, patting his cheek.

“You heard from Bradshaw recently?” Payback asked.

Her smile faltered for a moment before she forced it back, “No, not since I left here the first time, what three or four years ago? But I keep up as much as I can with my clearance.”

“And your connections,” Hangman added, narrowing his eyes.

“Careful Hangman,” Phoenix teased, “She was a little too much woman for you last time.”

Rose looked over her shoulder at the door, “Got more patches coming in,” She slipped from under Fanboy’s arm and drank more of her beer, “This is going to be some detachment. They’re bringing in the best of the best. Hell, they even brought me back here, and I was supposed to have undisturbed leave for three months.”

Phoenix touched Rose’s shoulder gently, “I was sorry to hear about your dad. He was a hell of a man.”

“He was. But when the Commander of the Pacific fleet tells you to come back, you can’t say no. Even with losing my dad, Kazansky knows I can’t say no to him. Not when he helped teach me how to fly,” The bell ringing caused everyone in the bar to start cheering, “Hangman, why don’t you go get us some more beer on the old timer?”

Phoenix picked up a pool cue, readying to start the game. But as if Rose has some sort of radar of her own, her body started to tingle causing her to look up at the door. The old Hawaiian shirt was the first thing she saw, then the sun dyed blond hair, and the old pair of sunglasses that once belonged to her father.

“Bradshaw!” Phoenix yelled, “That you?”

Rose sank down into a nearby chair, hunching over to hide her face. For years she thought about what she would do if she was able to be face to face with him again. All of the things she would say, everything she would apologize for. How she would tell him that her life felt empty without him, even more so now that her father was gone and was no longer the bridge between the two young people. 

Rose did try to call when she landed in Northern Virginia, she tried to explain why she had to leave him in Miramar, why they needed a clean split for both of them to be able to finish what they started separately. He never picked up, never responded to any texts or letters she sent. She knew she would lose him when she left, but she never imagined just how much it would hurt. 

She could hardly breathe as he stopped just feet from her and took off his sunglasses, “Thought I would surprise you,” He replied to Phoenix when asked about him being stateside again. 

Rose wouldn’t have even known if Iceman hadn’t told her. Hell, she wouldn’t even know anything about Bradley anymore if it weren’t for other people. Rose had very few regrets in her short life, but Bradley would always be her biggest.

“Hey Tigger, look what the tide brought in,” Phoenix cheered, clapping Bradley’s shoulder. 

Rose forced herself out of the chair, trying to prepare for whatever was about to be said, “Hey, Rooster.”

Using his callsign felt foreign, but she knew she lost the right to his name when she left. He wasn’t her Bradley anymore, just as she wasn’t his Rosey Posey. Too much time had passed, too much happened. Too many things were said that couldn’t be taken back.

He nodded softly, “Nice to see you, Tigs.”

But his eyes were cold, even if he was trying to play it off. He would act like he could stand to be near her, because he didn’t want the others to realize just how much he didn’t want to be near her. He would take back everything about that last night if he could, just so it wouldn’t have hurt as much as it did when he woke up and she was gone.

“Tigger here, was called back for all of this too,” Fanboy told Bradley. 

“Well,” Bradley said steadily, “They want the best of the best. We all know she could shoot all of us down in seconds if she really wanted to.”

With that he sunk into conversation with his fellow pilots. She tuned it out for a while, fully focused on the man she grew up with and once loved. He was different, harder almost. Yet, the same boy she knew lurked just below the surface. She wished she could reach him and tell him just how sorry she was. He had scars on his face that weren’t there when she saw him the last time. She didn’t even want to think about what caused them. Over the years she was able to attain small bits of information about him and various missions he flew, but she also knew that the information she got was very heavily redacted, giving her only enough to tell her that he was alive and safe. 

She could have been standing there for hours before she felt a small tug on her elbow, looking over she saw Bradley right next to her with a sort of gleam in his eyes that she so dearly missed, “Go pull the box.”

“What?” She questioned. 

He nodded over to the piano, “Go pull the box. Time for some real music.” His voice was still cold and on edge, but his eyes showed the boy she loved so much that it hurt. 

She felt the smile before she could even process it. He was already slipping his shades back on as he made his way to the piano. It had been years, that was certain, but something about the fact that he wanted her to do this with him made her chest ache. When they were kids, he didn’t like to play without Maverick with them as well, now it was like he needed her beside him to make it feel real.

The bar collectively protested when she yanked the power cord from the jukebox, but Bradley didn’t waste any time before starting to riff on the piano, playing a few notes here and there. Rose didn’t take a seat on the bench like she normally would, instead standing to Bradley’s right. 

He looked up at her, never stopping his movements on the keys, “Aren’t you going to sit?”

“I uh- I figured you wouldn’t-”

“I’m not playing without you,” He states firmly, “Not when you’re actually here, for once.”

Rose swallowed hard and gently slid onto the small space on the bench that he made for her, “Great Balls, alright?”

“I expect nothing less,” She said, pushing his shades up. 

Phoenix and the others joined them, surrounding the old piano. They laughed as Bradley kept riffing for a while. Penny rang the bell at the bar, Rose knew it was for Maverick. He was going overboard. But she couldn’t tell Bradley he was here, she wouldn’t. She needed this one night, just this little piece of him that she lost so long ago. He didn’t need to know that the first person to ruin his life was also here. 

Mav was already out of the bar when Bradley looked over his shoulder, finally deciding to start the song. The others started dancing around them, clutching their beer still. She couldn’t help but laugh as we sang, Bradley bobbing his head much like a Rooster. 

For a few moments Rose and Bradley were lost in each other again, much like when they were as kids. Exactly as they were the last time they sang in this bar. Great balls of fire indeed.

They were out of breath and still laughing by the time the song finished. She couldn’t even sit up straight, leaning on Rooster for support. His arm was around her, holding her against him. All Rose could feel was the sheer warmth radiating from his body, the soft cotton of his shirt and the warm denim of his jeans against her legs. The smell of his cologne flooded her senses and she began to wonder how she was ever able to leave in the first place.

“Come outside with me,” He whispered to her, pulling them both up from the bench, “We’ll be right back.”

He gently pulled her outside to the sandy parking lot. The sun was setting, turning everything dark shades of gold, purple, and pink. She tried to calm her nerves, it was only Rooster. They used to run around half naked in the sprinklers together as children. Snuck out to watch the planes take off in the early morning. They did everything together, she knew almost all there was to know about him. Yet, he felt like a stranger. 

“This your Bronco?” She asked, running her hand along the blue hood. 

“Yeah, got it a little while back. Missed this thing while I was overseas,” He tapped the hood before turning to lean back against it. 

She nodded, trying not to stare at the man next to her. Her whole body seemed to be fighting her though. All she wanted was to be closer to him, to feel his body against hers again. To have the relationship they once had. 

“Roost-”

His jaw was set, like he was fighting against something, “I heard about your dad, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Rose took a deep breath, “It’s okay, he knew where you were,” She couldn't help but smile, “Dad always knew where you were. I don’t think you could take a step, anywhere in the world, without him knowing.”

There was silence for a moment, “How did it happen?”

“Heart attack. He was on his morning run. They told us it was quick, he didn’t suffer,” She shook her head, “Not that it helps, he was alone. You know how it is, it broke mom. She ended up moving back to be closer to her siblings, being here was too hard on her without dad.”

He watched her, not saying anything. She looked almost lost, which seemed ridiculous considering how comfortable she used to be at The Hard Deck. Together, they spent probably too many nights drinking and playing pool. They used to run around Fightertown like they owned it, it was their playground growing up and then it was their office. 

But now, she seemed like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin and disappear. But then again, she seemed to be really good at leaving. 

“I was in the air when it happened, or when they got the call, I guess. I was flying in Naval airspace, they had me testing something at Oceana. The irony isn’t lost on me, considering that’s where you were stationed prior to the deployment,” She stopped for a moment, eyes scanning the horizon, “Next thing I know, The base commander of all people is coming over on my radio telling me to land immediately. Told me I had a call from Miramar, about my father, and it was Admiral Kazansky on the phone.”

“I knew if Ice was calling me about my dad that it wasn’t good. So I brought the plane back down. I don’t even remember the funeral,” She admitted, “Or moving my mom, or cleaning out his office. It’s like I was under water the whole time. Or barely conscious. So I got into my Cessna and flew to South Carolina, far enough anyway from any of the bases there that I wouldn't have to think about it.” 

“And now you’re here.” 

There was something in his voice that almost unnerved her, “Is that going to be a problem, Bradshaw?”

“Are you going to ground me?” He asked point blank, no sense of warmth left. 

She scoffed, shaking her head, “Well, if that’s all you’re concerned about, then I think we’re done here. Have a nice night, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I’ll see you in the morning for the briefing.”

For the second time in her life, Rose turned and left Bradley. Only this time, it wasn’t guilt that threatened to tear her apart, it was something else entirely.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 20/04/2024 (Sabrina Carpenter, Dua Lipa, Perrie Edwards)

Hozier sticks to a second week at #1 on the UK Singles Chart with “Too Sweet” and welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

As always, we start with our notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75 - which is what I cover - after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. This week, we actually have a bit of a massacre so we must bid adieu to: “7 Minute Drill” by J. Cole (that one we literally say farewell to, it’s been deleted), “Cinderella” by Future and Metro Boomin featuring Travis Scott, “Make You Mine” by Madison Beer, “CARNIVAL” by Hitler and Goebbels featuring Rich the Kid and Playboi Carti, “Made for Me” by Muni Long, “bye” and “yes, and?” by Ariana Grande, “Would You (go to bed with me?)” by Campbell and Alcemist, assisted by a remix with Caity Baser, “Baby Shark” by Pinkfong, yes, really, “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift and finally, even though we all know it’ll be back, “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers.

It actually turns out that the most interesting stories here outside of the top 10 and new tracks… are the returning entries, because there are quite a few, they’re quite high and also quite - at least tangentially - related to a cultural event. Firstly, we have the release of a biopic revolving around the late singer Amy Winehouse who has captivated audiences long after death and the recent release of Back to Black, as well as its soundtrack, mostly a compilation of Winehouse’s songs and her influences, has propelled the studio album of the same name to #22 on the album chart whilst giving some of her legacy catalogue a solid boost. The song of the same name, “Back to Black”, had several initial runs from 2007 to 2008, peaking at “only” #25, but returned with stride after her passing to find a new peak of #8 in 2011. At #1 that week was “She Makes Me Wanna” by JLS featuring Dev. The charts don’t always reflect what music actually stands the test of time, let’s just say that. Today, it’s at #51. An even more storied chart run comes in at #44 with “Valerie” by Mark Ronson featuring Amy Winehouse. Ronson’s version largely eclipsed the original Zutons version released the year before. The Liverpool indie rock outfit peaked at #9 with their version, whilst Nelly Furtado’s “Maneater” topped the charts, but by the time Ronson and Winehouse came along, the chart was instead reigned by Sugababes with “About You Now”, which halted “Valerie” from hitting #1. Similarly to “Back to Black”, it did return to the chart after her passing though not very high, so I assume that it must have some degree of prominence in the biopic, I’ve yet to see it.

As for our two other re-entries, they somehow have even more chart history dragged into them, so bear with me. Paul Simon wrote “The Sound of Silence” and recorded the track as a member of Simon & Garfunkel in 1964, and despite this being the most prominent and successful version, hitting #1 Stateside, it somehow never once appeared on the UK Singles Chart in any form until long after, specifically in 1966 when an Irish pop group The Bachelors covered it, basically taking any steam off of the original by peaking at #3. The Spencer Davis Group’s “Somebody Help Me” was #1 at the time. It wouldn’t appear on the charts again until damn near half a century later in 2012, when viral acoustic singer Kina Grannis took it to #93. However, and I really wish I couldn’t say this, the most successful cover may be from nu metal band Disturbed, who reached mainstream success worldwide by covering the track in 2016, by then it had been thoroughly memed to death as well as being a long-term pop staple, yet it still worked. Their mediocre version peaked at #29 and now it’s back at #47 because of an inexplicable, practically unlistenable house remix by Australian DJ CYRIL that Paul Simon could probably sue for murder. I didn’t like the Disturbed version, but this is a new level of groanworthy.

As for our final re-entry, we should look towards the album charts, wherein Oasis’ 1994 debut Definitely Maybe is actually down a full positions, lower than other Oasis albums. The irony in that is that it’s the iconic Britpop band’s 20th anniversary this past week, with them releasing special physical editions of their debut single “Supersonic” to mark the occasion. It never really peaked that high to begin with, only at #31, but it did stick around and return for several runs for basically most of the 1990s, only to return once again this week as our highest re-entry at #42.

The gains are a lot less interesting but there are still a handful of notable boosts, namely “Jump” by Tyla, Gunna and Skillibeng up to #38, “Good Luck, Babe!” by Chappell Roan at #33, “I Don’t Wanna Wait” by David Guetta and OneRepublic at #25 (Jesus Christ), and finally, “Hell n Back” by Bakar nearing its old peak at #21.

This week, our top five on the UK Singles Chart consists of: “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM” by Beyoncé holding at #5, “Lose Control” by Teddy Swims floating at #4, “i like the way you kiss me” by Artemas smooching its way up to #3, Benjamin of Boontown is at #2 with “Beautiful Things” and of course, Hozier still at #1. Now, there’s actually quite a lot to discuss in our new entries, despite the fact that Taylor is still a week away yet, in fact this might end up the more interesting week because no-one is dropping the same day as her. So let’s review them, shall we?

New Entries

#49 - “We Still Don’t Trust You” - Future and Metro Boomin featuring The Weeknd

Produced by Metro Boomin, Peter Lee Johnson and MIKE DEAN

Yup, all of our new entries are within the top 50 this week, and most of them well into the highest reaches of the chart. Given Taylor only has three songs coming next week, I’m pretty excited for a from-the-top shake-up that won’t be immediately torn down… at least until the temporary Eurovision blockade, but we’ll deal with that when it comes to it. For now, I had only heard one of the songs debuting this week before today, and it was this one, the intro and title track to the second of the Future-Metro collaboration tapes, which debuted at #11 on the albums chart this week. Not every track hits on this second album, but if you remember what I thought about the first album, you’d recall I preferred the hazier, more melodically-focused pop-trap that was prevalent through the middle section, and this new record is essentially an extended version of just that with a triumphant victory lap full of bangers on the back-half bonus disc to balance things out. Future is a lot more emotive, Metro is delivering beautiful cloudy soundscapes, and the hooks are catchier than ever, though it’s not nearly as immediate so I understand that it performed less successfully even if it is a damn shame. It also means we only have the first track here, which is barely even a song ultimately, more so an extended, hallucinatory introduction blending punchy synthpop drums with garbled psuedo-hooks about freaky girls from Future, a looming falsetto from The Weeknd over a borderline nu-disco groove and semi-verses that don’t really form into a complete song. In the album context, this is a brilliant introduction to where the album will take you: a late-night drive taking your mind off “the hoes” so to speak. As a charting single by itself, it’s honestly just weird. Other than being the intro to an album most people I imagine didn’t finish all the way through, I don’t understand why “All to Myself” didn’t take this one’s place. I guess it didn’t have the video treatment but regardless, weird single to push, even if it’s a great moment.

#46 - “KiKi (What Would Drizzy Say?)” - D-Block Europe

Produced by Eight8, Harry Beech and Ari Beats

Well, Drake’s in the news thanks to all the dissing back and forth so being the young brilliant entrepreneurs they are, DBE pushed out a song with him in the title, in a vague reference to Drake’s own “What Would Pluto Do” but a much less vague, openly cheap interpolation of Drake’s “In My Feelings”, and the chart history did not stop with our re-entries as if there’s a coherent theme with some of these new tracks, it’s egregious referencing. “In My Feelings” samples a plethora of tracks in the first place, but none as explicitly as DBE have riffed from it here. The original spent four weeks at #1, but I don’t see Young Adz’s nasal auto-croon rendition getting any higher than #46. I actually feel kind of relieved with this because this is back to the stupid, barely functioning DBE of old (and by old, I mean the late 2010s), with a terrible bass mastering job, overly loud flutes that nearly drown out Adz himself attempting to sing his way out of his lack of content, in the same melody as Drake’s chorus until he just starts talking instead midway through. Some of the 2020s improvements are actually present here though; Youthful Advertisements has much tighter rhyme schemes once he actually starts rapping, and they aren’t as audibly out of tune or beat with everything else as they probably would be if they tried this out when the original was big. He also puts a shell in his back like he’s a turtle, tells the girl to close her mouth and leads into Dirtbike Lb’s small contribution, a brief, half-dead and wordy verse that still washes Adz: this is what I’ve come to expect from the duo. There’s not much of an attempt at wordplay but cool turns of phrase that kind of imply he thinks Hermés is the name of the crocodile they killed to make the bag and not just the brand name… they’re good enough. This is good fun.

#41 - “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” - Shaboozey

Produced by Nevin and Sean Cook

Okay, if we’re going to sample egregiously, this is how we do it: not trying to play it off as a completely new song but not serving in the exact same lane and purpose as the original. Instead, let’s make unabashed re-recordings and reimaginings that don’t necessarily modernise or improve the song, and don’t set out to, instead crafting a different experience from the same fundamentals. Now I don’t like the original 2004 track “Tipsy” by J-Kwon mostly because of, well, J-Kwon being useless, but there’s a great hook to it, especially the radio edit, and the beat making up nearly entirely of weird sound effects over a distorted clap sample is pretty clever. The original “Tipsy” peaked at #4 for two weeks, whilst “Lola’s Theme” by the Shapeshifters was #1, and later The Streets’ “Dry Your Eyes”. Shaboozey, a singer featured on Beyoncé’s latest pivot, has taken advantage of that extra traction to completely reimagine the chorus of “Tipsy” and its general conceit of having fun at a gathering to take your mind off problems, especially with girls… but there’s a lot of depth added through the extra populist twist thanks to the financial troubles referenced in the verses, and some particularly really smart intricacies like turning the counting gimmick into counting the rounds of drinks at the bar. He recontextualises a basically meaningless gimmick into something that is a lot more resonant, and that’s really special. Sonically, it feels like a bit more organic stomp-clap soarer, and isn’t really all that special, but the inspired interpolation of “Tipsy”, alongside some great strings in the post-chorus, makes this what it is, and it doesn’t run out of tricks. The shift to a rap flow in the second verse to continue the momentum is brilliant, the spoken backing vocals amidst the multi-tracked crowd hook, which I almost wish was even louder, is a fun idea… and that’s before that final chorus where it breaks down and becomes a true drink-a-long. Sure, this may be a reimagined version of a song I don’t like really at all, but it goes far beyond just that and creates a new experience not just as a cover but as a separate entity entirely that embraces and benefits from its referencing. This is how you do sampling in pop, it’s excellent. I hope this is a smash.

#35 - “These Words” - Badger and Natasha Bedingfield

Produced by Badger

Alright, once again, we have a sample, this time with Natasha Bedingfield’s “These Words”, that other song you might remember from the album that parents “Unwritten”. What you may not remember is that whilst this hasn’t had nearly as much longevity as the title track, it actually peaked much higher, debuting at #1 and topping the charts for two weeks in 2004. This is in spite of it being complete garbage. I like meta narratives in pop music when done well and outside of its camp, it can be genuinely difficult to get through the jerky, dated production and somewhat embarrassing performance, especially lyrically, from Bedingfield. I understand the appeal, and the writing isn’t really a deal-breaker usually, but it’s especially striking to me when the actual music behind her quest to find the best words for her love song… just plainly sucks. Come 2024 and enter UK garage producer Badger, who remixes the track, crediting Bedingfield on streaming but for whatever reason not on the Official Charts page, and I have to say, completely stripping this catchy hook outside of its tedious context is another inspired reimagining, mostly because it turns the “I love you, I love you” refrain into a muffled, glitchy funfest over some of the most detailed, hyperactive 2-step drums I’ve heard on the charts in a while, alongside a hazier synthscape that really shines against the rawer vocal from Bedingfield. Once again, modern artists turn a song from the 2000s I never really liked into a completely different experience, in this case completely removing you from Bedingfield’s narrative to fully envelop you in the euphoric end goal she hints towards in the original. Hope this takes off too.

#31 - “Tell Ur Girlfriend” - Lay Bankz

Produced by Johnny Goldstein

Speaking of taking off, it seems we finally have the inevitable breakout single for Lay Bankz. I’ve been paying attention to her casual flexing and dismissal of pretty much anything else over firy, fast-paced Philly club bangers for a while now, probably since I discovered “Na Na Na”, and it did seem like TikTok would grant her an easy hit any moment now. She finally got it with “Tell Ur Girlfriend” and here, if you don’t remember the specific production elements of its original material, you might not recognise this has yet another interpolation. I wasn’t a fan of Ginuwine’s 1996 track “Pony” for a long time because I felt its dissonance harmed its ability to be a sex jam but… let’s be real, rarely do sex jams actually succeed without being in some way disruptive due to awkward lyrics or stagnant beats. Once I learned to shut up and appreciate Timbaland’s vocoder burping that calls itself a bassline, all was right in my world. It peaked at #16 over here in 1997 and did have a shelf life extending to an EDM remix peaking at #39 in 2015. Bankz and Goldstein don’t really make much use of “Pony”’s fundamentals rhythm or melody-wise, outside of that out of place vocoder burp that is repurposed as a measure-demarcating stab over a comically jerky, sing-songy synth that slows down the pace enough for a 2-step-influenced 2000s throwback, Destiny’s Child-esque, not to rap but closer to R&B. Bankz surprises me to a degree with just how effortlessly she swaps between faster jabs to the smooth choruses, and it almost makes me forget that this is a song about mutual cheating. Does it justify that? No. And who cares? They’re having toxic fun over the Ginuwine “Pony” vocal burp and some of the ugliest synths to hit the top 40 in years, this is not morally righteous in any regard. It’s just pure, sweaty, regretful fun and does not waste any of its two-minute runtime trying to justify itself, and given this whole song is a sarcastic power move about how they should probably tell their partners they’re sleeping with each other, I don’t think she cares in the slightest.

#10 - “Forget About Us” - Perrie

Produced by Steve Solomon and Andrew Goldstein

Okay, the samplefest ended up going pretty fantastically, so I have some hopes for the trio of pop girlies we have lined up all debuting in the top 10, starting with the solo debut from Perrie Edwards of the former girl group Little Mix. She’s always been one of the most prominent vocal talents in the group, so regardless of if the song actually works, there’s going to be power here, and that’s guaranteed, even with an Ed Sheeran writing credit and a compressed to Hell and back mix. In this soarer, Perrie’s ex has become a successful singer after the breakup and Perrie is begging for them to never forget about what they lost in the relationship, especially given how neither seem all that over this relationship and its fallout. There’s a propelling pop rock drive to this, even if the lack of electric grit may harm it a tad, not letting it get into truly bitter territory… which might actually be for the best. Ms. Edwards sounds great belting here but there is a level of restraint in all the acoustic swell that might sing closer to the desperate content, acknowledging the flaws in the relationship and that it is over, but that it should, please, stick to them as a memory. A less kind approach may have flattened its overall sincerity, so even if sonically, I’m not over the Moon about this, I can recognise that this is a tightly-written, excellently performed little pop rock jam that will serve as a good introduction to the solo career. I just want to hear where it goes next.

#9 - “Illusion” - Dua Lipa

Produced by Kevin Parker and Danny L Harle

Okay, Dua, let’s be straightforward. Mixing PC Music’s wildcard Danny L Harle with Tame Impala should lead to much more interesting music than what we’ve heard from Radical Optimism - a disgraceful album title - so far, and I won’t lie and say what has been put out post-”Houdini” hasn’t been somewhat disappointing. I was hoping that “Illusion” could take a bit of a different step, tap into some less recognisable territory for Dua, and whilst it may not have done that exactly, it’s definitely much more interesting. Harle and Parker go for a much tighter house groove here, with elevated pianos, chips of percussion that end up much more minimal under the looming vocal loops and progressive electronic synth beeping, maybe much less impactful than you’d expect. So where’s that in the content? Well, Dua sings about disappointment, playing off a façade placed up by this guy who’s just not impressing her at all, as she’s growing up from just being reckless with her lovers. It’s in the same vein as “Training Season” but with a more unique and honestly more fitting soundscape for that kind of romantic disillusionment, especially given a major conceit of the bridge is that she’s still going to dance all night with that illusion, she still gives in despite her best interests. It also has a ridiculous synth solo slabbed right in for no reason. Genius. Inspiring.

#6 - “Espresso” - Sabrina Carpenter

Produced by Julian Bunetta

I really have not been going into Sabrina Carpenter singles that chart with high expectations or really any expectation that I’ll enjoy it, and she keeps proving me wrong, but not in the way that say Dua just did. No, Ms. Carpenter shares more in common with D-Block Europe in that the appeal, at least for me, comes in the lack of subtlety and disregard for functioning outside of existing pop tropes, whilst still thoroughly embarrassing her public image, cycling around enough for me to be unironically on board. Like “Nonsense” was a plain rip-off that ended up surviving beyond the genuine article on comedy alone, and “Feather” is as light as possible, no pun intended, yet still pinches at you with its infestation of hooks, “Espresso” is emphatically stupid. “Switch it up like Nintendo”? “My give-a-fucks are on vacation”? “I know I Mountain Dew it for ya”? “MOUNTAIN DEW IT FOR YA”? It reminds me all too much of Selena Gomez’s nu-disco embarrassment “Love On”, but instead of selling the cringe with sheer forcefulness, which did surprisingly work for the incredibly limited vocalist Selena is, Sabrina plays the guitar licks and downright invasive pre-chorus synths off with utter, robotic dismissal. Sure, there’s vocal riffing and harmonising, but the main vocal line in the chorus is a multi-tracked, reverb-drenched, Melodyne-controlled nursery rhyme, and it doesn’t escape that lane for nearly all of its three minutes. There are spoken word interludes where she acknowledges the stupidity of the song and its content, but it’s always breezy and lacking in the cringe that would come with it if she cared much at all. The deadpan “Yes” ad-libs in the pre-chorus, and the detail put into the production, are what really sell this to me though. It’s orchestrated to make it seem like she doesn’t care, but there is an entire team twisting the knobs to turn that faux carelessness to a seamless radio edit… and well, they need a raise. She’s done it again. This is ridiculous.

Conclusion

She doesn’t get the Best of the Week though because that, far and above, goes to Shaboozey for “A Bar Song (Tipsy)”, and the Honourable Mention… well, I can’t give out a Worst of the Week at all here. Or even a Dishonourable Mention. Sure, Perrie’s song is a bit generic and maybe my enjoyment of the DBE track is purely for the comedy factor, but I still thoroughly enjoyed my time with them, so I’m just going to tie the Honourable Mention between “These Words” by Badger and well, “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter, which is shaping up to thankfully be huge. As for what’s on the horizon… Taylor Swift and Drake. It’s back to the big leagues in the next episode but for now, thank you for reading, long live Cola Boyy, and I’ll see you next week!

[vinilsoup]

I hate asking for favors, but this is not for me. Last year, I've taken of the street and cared for five animals, a young white tom cat that appeared in my street, that I took to be castrated and found a home, a litter of three newborns kitties who were abandoned in the road just below my street, which I had to take care 24/7 for a month until they were old enough to be adopted, and Orion, my dog, that showed up on my door, I thought he was lost but has been likely abandoned, nobody wanted to adopt him so I took him.

Mars the cat has been showing up in my balcony for longer than any of those pets. He was a terrified of humans cat, very hungry, clearly a tom cat due to his extreme territorialist behavior with other animals, big puffy cheeks and always hurt because of fights. He had and still has one eye that has a very dark coloration.

I feed him for six months, hoping one day to befriend him and take him to be at least castrated. While he let me get closer, I ended up needing a cat trap to castrate him.

After being alone with me, he became very sweet and cuddly, but needs time to socialize with other animals (I already had two cats with feline leukemia, which is why is so important to me to vaccinate Mars, so if he doesn't find someone to adopt him he could live with me), especially Orion my dog.

He ended running away trice despite my house being catproofed, but three weeks after castration, he calmed down and is living in my balcony/front yard.

However, he suffered a lot in life, has big deep scars into his face and it's clear he lived on the street for years. He needs vet treatment, specially to be vaccinated and examine what's wrong with his eye. The vet said it could be a variety of things and he needs examination.

Like I said, I've done a lot last year, and in top of all I was unemployed while doing it. I had help, but a lot of costs ended up for myself. I found a job in December but it was in a mall, and it was so draining, especially because I may be autistic, so the noises and the people made me have multiple breakdowns, so I had to quit after only 3 weeks.

I took Orion to the vet, castrated and gave the first dose of the vaccine to Mars while I was still employed, and now I'm not and they both need the second dose.

I'm badly indebted, live alone, my family lives far and my parents passed when I was a teen, so I don't have who to ask for help, besides hoping some kind strangers will help me give this cat the life he deserves after being neglected and probably abused by humans.

About pricing, I'm Brazilian, I know things are hard everywhere because of the crisis, but we've been always kinda fucked when it comes to money, so it's almost unbearable rn. I'm searching for jobs and am doing some selective process, but it'll take a while.

The value of only Mars vet expenses are 570 reais, which is around $114 dollars. With Orion's expenses added the value, the total is 780 reais, around $156 dollars.

Anyone who is North American or European, by donating a dollar you will be helping immensely. This is like a lot of money here, it's almost my full rent, and I ain't got no money to pay that either shajjakajdks but I'm only asking for help for them! I can get myself out of this mess, but their health can't wait.

My p@yp4l is (removed, goal reached!)

There's also this group founding thing here, idk if people form outside Brazil can donate there but I'll leave the link here.

And if you can share I'll appreciate it too. Thanks.

Goal reached, thanks everyone!

[myemotionalsupportcharacters]

Old Friend - Part 1

Series Masterlist Type: Series Pairing/s: Jinx x Female!OC Summary: When Jinx runs into a ghost from her past, despite the chaotic events already at play in her life she gets drawn in. Warnings: Will feature mature content: Gore, violence, sexual themes, etc. {Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except those marked as OC, I hold no rights over anything from the Arcane/LoL Universe. Otherwise, all content is my own and any similarity to real people, events, or any other fiction is unintentional. Please inbox me if you believe anything within my work violates this disclaimer.}

The Last Drop was different now, neon crawling like overgrown vines through the building. It was busiest on the weekends, people flocked there, talking, drinking, gambling. Bad for Silco's business (too many eyes) but good for revenue. For Arika, it was the perfect hunting ground.

It had taken her years once she returned to even walk within five feet of the hallowed building, sweet memories of her childhood running through the lanes tinted Shimmer purple. Even now as she stood by Vander's statue she could almost see the echoes of a group of orphans giggling and roughhousing with each other before running off to find some kind of trouble to get into. Once she blinked the ghosts disappeared. That was what they were now, ghosts, and she was an orphan again. Cast adrift the day they all died in that forsaken fire that changed everything. Now there was neon in the streets, Shimmer around every corner and everything seemed so much worse than when she had left.

Slowly, Arika stepped out from behind the fountain and began to move toward the bar. A black shadow shifted on the rooftops just within her vision, her lone companion always keeping an eye on her. He had plenty to go around.

As she reached the bar, the bouncers gave her a short look over from within their mechs before grunting and stepping aside to let her in. The music that bled from the building doubled in volume as she stepped inside. The tables had been pushed to the edges, making room for the shifting bodies that writhed and jumped to the beat of the pounding bass. As Arika weaved through the crowd, drunk men staggered and leered, the bar itself wasn't much better. As she waited for the bartender's attention, she made eye contact with a young thin man further down nursing a bottle as he scoped the room.

It didn't take long for him to approach.

"Let me buy you a drink." His breath blew across her face, acrid and stale.

"Only if you dance with me, all my friends ditched me." Arika put on an innocent pout as a smirk slid across the man's face.

"That sounds like a great deal to me, what's your name hot stuff?"

"Vivian." She smiled, leaning towards him. "What's yours?"

"I'll let you call me whatever you like, princess." The drink arrived, and his hands fell to her waist, pulling her towards the hoard. Arika let it all wash over her, head tilted back towards the rafters, eyes shut. She succumbed to it all. How he bought her drink after drink, how his hands grabbed at her through the thin material of her dress. Her hips, thighs, ass. Then, when he started to guide her outside to the alley, she smiled.

"You're so hot." The brick scraped against her exposed back, the dress riding up as he slobbered against her neck and his hands got bolder and bolder. He was spurred on by her drunken groans. "You're gonna feel so good. I bet you're so tight." His lips began to trail down, past her collar bone to her chest.

"What are you doing?"

His head whipped up, eyes blown wide and he moved to stagger back, but it was too late. Her fingernails had buried into the flesh of his arms, and blood slowly trickled down from the punctures.

"But...but you're-"

"Too drunk to stop you? Too drunk to remember your face tomorrow?" Her dress was pulled up to the very tops of her thighs, one strap of the dress dropped off her shoulder but it didn't matter. She saw the shadow move in the corner of her eye before Croaker swooped from his perch over her head to the end of the alley. The man looked up into the night as he heard the air move but missed the crow darting over their heads.

"Let me go, please. I promise, I'll never do it again." He was crying, his body shuddering as her nails sank deeper.

"I don't believe you." His cry was cut off, mouth hanging open as the blood in his body shifted against him. A strained gargle left his throat as the blood moved into his lungs, into his brain, and overflowed through his mouth, eyes and ears. The blood that had been dripping down his arms changed its course, moving back upwards and over her hands, creeping maroon tendrils up her forearms before it seemed to root into her own skin. Arika's head dropped back against the brick, and a groan left her mouth as his life seeped into her skin. Her brain swirled, dizzy from the rush and her eyes fluttered shut.

She barely noticed as his skin dried and withered against his bones and he dropped from her hands to the filthy alley floor, curled up like a flower left too long in the sunlight. His skin took on a deep grey pallor, eyes milky white as Croaker came down to peck at them.

"Come here, boy." The crow's head turned sharply before he hopped over to stand at her feet, tilting his head back and opening his beak to catch the last drops of blood from Arika's fingers. "One more down, thousands to go." She whispered into the night air, before pushing off from the brick wall. Croaker hopped up with a few flaps of his wings to sit on her shoulder, poking his beak into her now knotted red hair as thanks. Arika giggled before shrugging her shoulder and sending him back into the air.

"I think I'm done for the night, I'll see you back home." He let out a solitary squark before turning six blood-red eyes to the sky and darting away. Arika slowly began walking towards the end of the alleyway, leaving the body behind. No one would care about another dead body behind the bar, they would assume he was a Shimmer addict and send him to the gutter like the rest.

Arika didn't hear the pair of boots hit the ground behind her, as they were preceded by a loud clicking, made by the small black metal cylinder that dropped in front of her spewing pink smoke. As her lungs gasped for air against the gas, she noticed the neon paint that decorated the smoke bomb. A monkey face with a comical grin and swirling eyes.

"Powder?" She gasped, before hitting the ground hard.

Jinx POV

Jinx hated busy nights at the bar. Too loud, too many people watching. It was this or spending another five hours in her workshop trying (and failing) to come up with another new weapon of mass destruction. So she found herself sitting in the rafters anyway, lying on a board she had brought up years ago to spy on Silco's goons. Bored of painting yet another smoke bomb, she blew air out from her lips as her limbs went limp and she lay back. She only stayed there a moment before rolling over and peeking her head over the edge. She watched the dancing bodies, the neon lights reflecting off the crowd and dazzling her eyes. A redhead entered the crowd, not ginger but a deep red. A shade of red she recognised. The hair moved straight to the bar, and Jinx crawled around her board to follow her and get a better view.

You killed her.

"Leave me alone." She whispered over her shoulder, before looking back to see the red-head had been joined by a random guy. They started flirting and Jinx sighed. "Boringggg."

The red-head turned and headed into the crowd with him. They danced for ages, drink after drink.

"It's not her. I know it's not. It can't be." Jinx whispered to herself for hours, still watching and waiting to see the girl's face. "She'll look up and she won't look anything like her. She'll have brown eyes and a mole on her nose. And I'll have wasted my night staring at some stupid-" The girl had looked up.

Green eyes under heavy eyelashes, trimmed sharp brows and a thin button nose, lips twisted up into a smirk and when she smiled she revealed sharp canines. She only glimpsed her eyes for a moment before they fluttered shut, but she knew them too well not to recognise them. Jinx's own eyes blew wide, her breath erratic as she scrambled away from the edge of the board to hug her own knees.

"No, no, no. She's dead."

You killed her, just like you killed us.

Slowly, Jinx raised her head from her arms and crawled towards the edge of the board. She peaked over slowly, and there she was.

"Ari?" Jinx lept back, moving lithely through the beams and dropping down in the back corner before busting outside. Her breath wouldn't slow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she hit her own head with her hands.

"I killed her, I killed her. How is she here?" Behind her, the door to the club clunked and began to creep open. By the time the two figures poured out into the alley, Jinx had scaled the side of the building to the roof.

"You're so hot." His voice drifted up to her and she peeked over the edge. It was him, the guy Ari had been dancing with. He had her pinned up against the side of the building.

"What are you doing?" That voice cut through her like a knife, twisting into Jinx's gut. She looked back down and saw it all. The way the guy shrivelled up, Ari's head tipping back with a moan, her body writhing against the side of the building in pleasure as the blood crawled over her arms. She watched it all, frozen, hands gripping the edge of the building so tight it felt as though her knuckles were going to burst through her skin. Then Ari moved to leave.

"No, no, no I'm not losing you again." Without a second thought, she grabbed the freshly painted smoke bomb from her hip and pulled the pin before dropping it in front of Ari, securing her mask before jumping down after them.

"Powder?" She thought she heard the girl gasp as she dropped to her knees, narrowly avoiding face planting into the floor as Jinx caught her. She pulled her into her lap, brushing the long strands of dark red hair out of her face.

"It's you, it's really you. I didn't kill you." Jinx pulled Ari's unconscious body in for a hug as the tears started to spill out of her eyes. "I'm not letting you go again."

Thanks for visiting, see you again soon...

[paradiseiswhereveriam]

My Sweet Chick Experience | 164 Bedford Ave, Brooklyn, NY, 11249 [pictures from their Instagram @sweetchicklife]

Let me tell y’all something about Sweet Chick. You wanna talk about a variety of items to choose from? Flavors? Vegetarian options? Experience? Sweet Chick is definitely a restaurant you have to try if you’re looking for a restaurant to get hooked on, that you can rely on to deliver delicious food every time and fit the dietary needs of multiple groups of people.

Let’s get into it.

What We Had

I ordered the Sweet Chili Glazed Chicken Sandwich (first picture above), which is complete with Sweet Chili Glazed Chicken on a potato bun topped with iceberg lettuce, pickled carrots, cilantro and lime mayo. Sierra ordered the Vegetarian Buffalo Chicken Sandwich, which is vegetarian fried chicken tossed in buffalo sauce, topped with carrot celery slaw and blue cheese served on a potato roll. She also ordered the Vegetarian Honey Garlic Chicken and Waffles, which is vegetarian fried chicken tossed in their honey garlic sauce, paired with a whole waffle, served with hot sauce, maple syrup, and their signature butter on the side.

What We Thought

I was so amazed by my sandwich. If you know me, you know I’m a sandwich GIRL! Being born in Philadelphia and surrounded by humongous, delicious, perfectly made sandwiches all the time, I’m not easily impressed when it comes to sandwiches outside of Philadelphia. But when I took my first bite of Sweet Chick, I immediately became sad because I knew this first bite was the beginning to the end of my time eating this sandwich. I. Did. Not. Want. This. Moment. To. End. This sandwich is packed with flavor, and everything is so well balanced. The proportions of the chicken to the bread to the sauce to the toppings all made sense and resulted in an amazing eating experience. Another characteristic that stood out to me is the fact that the skin on the chicken was not soggy at all from the sauce — not something I experience often when I’m eating chicken tossed in sauce. Over time the skin can get soggy, which is a reasonable thing, ya know, it’ll still be eaten. But how they managed to make sure the skin was crispy after it had been tossed in sauce while also keeping the meat of the chicken tender and juicy is truly beyond me. Very well done sandwich 👏🏾

For Sierra, she was blown away by how they did the vegetarian food. The chicken served with her chicken and waffle platter were the size of like, two standard chicken tenders put together. I don’t know what you would consider a stander chicken tender, lol, but you get what I mean, each one was HUGE. She was served five with her waffle and she was overwhelmed with so much joy that finally, she was eating vegetarian fried chicken that wasn’t just cauliflower tossed in batter. Like, she gets it, it’s delicious and looks like chicken when fried, but it’s just not very similar to real chicken. This, however, was quite similar, and in many ways, better than traditional fried chicken, (and way better than fried cauliflower chicken) and for that, she was so grateful. She felt the same way about her buffalo sandwich. She literally had to make me take a bite of her sandwich to check if it was really vegetarian (it was) or if they had mistakenly given her actual fried chicken. That’s how amazingly good her sandwich was. I’d say this is a definite win for vegetarians all over the world because I think this is the closest to authentic fried chicken and fried chicken sandwiches the vegetarian realm is gonna get. Seriously. The waffles come at the end because while they were super soft and melted in your mouth, I felt like they could have been a bit more sweet. The texture is there, they’re incredibly soft and easy to chew, but I personally felt like they could have been more flavorful.

Overall

But lack-of-sweetness in the waffles aside, this was a great experience and I give Sweet Chick a 10/10. What kept them at a 10 despite the waffles was definitely the vegetarian options, which they pretty much offer for every non-vegetarian dish they have, as well as the execution of their sandwiches. Eating here has definitely pinned them as a must-visit restaurant any time we travel to New York.

Have you been to Sweet Chick? Does this make you wanna try them out? Let us know!

Azé

(P.S. I write for Sierra because she likes my writing style, not because she can’t write her own review of her food. Thanks in advance for understanding this now and every food review going forward <3 )

[erodasfishtacos]

Curious Gazes

prompt: [CEO!Harry] four times harry has been spotted by employees being very unlike his demeanor at work.

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: harry is an asshole to everyone but is wife and baby.

**** <-- click for visuals throughout the story. ( because i love showing off how dumb rich harry is - i mean he’s a billionaire ffs)

notes: thanks so much for the love on the first part. I will be writing quite a bit for this trope. the next addition will be all smut. love you, enjoy.

PART ONE

----

RESERVATION RUN-IN

Harry has over a hundred-thousand full-time employees. He has nearly ten-thousand at his London office at all times. The skyscraper was beautiful with clear glass, a reflective grey tone, and the structure screamed modern. It has eighty-three floors.

So with that being said, Harry does not know even one third of the people who work in the building nor does he want to. He couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if he tried. 

However, having so many employees in the city means his staff members are bound to catch sight of their boss pretty often outside of the office.

Sarah, Lucielle, Jack, and Anya - all from the customer service department of Styles Media and Marketing Inc. - are all out to dinner. They decided to go all out and dish out a hefty amount to eat at Il Nascondiglio Segreto. It was a reservation they had made nearly a month ago.

As they’re enjoying their appetizer, Lucielle nearly chokes on her oyster, “Holy shit. It’s Harry,” She whispers, nodding her head in the direction she was staring with bulging eyes.

They all can’t help but turn subtly, a perfect vantage point from where they’re sat right across the way from the group of employees. Their boss was dressed in a bit more casual - not by much - attire than he’d worn to the office earlier that Friday afternoon.

He had an open blazer with a white, nearly see-through button up. Their eyes nearly jumping out of their skulls when they spot his butterfly tattoo sitting on right below his sternum. Jack’s hawk eyes catch that he has a name in cursive on his left pec. 

Plus his normal tailored suit trousers were replaced with tight skinny jeans that hugged his crotched - making it unmistakable that he was well….endowed. Hair was no longer as styled and curled. Laying more carelessly on his shoulders. ****

But what was the most absurd thing they saw him wearing was a smile. His lips were curled up in a large, white grin that was big enough to cause little wrinkles around his eyes. 

His hand intertwined with his wife’s until they arrived at their table, pulling out her chair for her, landing a soft kiss on her cheek before sitting down in his across from her.

He automatically puts an open palm halfway across the table and his date places her’s right on top of it. Her large engagement ring and wedding band sparkling in the low lighting in the restaurant. They were holding hands over the table.

The group had never actually seen the women they deemed Cruella Deville. They had envisioned his wife with bleach blonde hair, fake tits, and fish lips complimented with botox that made it so her forehead didn’t move.

But they were met with a beautiful, natural one instead. She had gorgeous curled locks trailing down her back, light neutral makeup with normal sized lips, small creases where they should be. 

Her body was natural as well, breasts pushed up in a bra but obviously not manufactured by the way they sat, a bit of a pouch around her midsection - a telltale sign from her recent pregnancy, and a radiant smile to match her husband’s. 

They looked so happy and in love.

She was dressed short, polka-dotted black dress with a pair of simple black shoes. She complimented with with a bright red lip which stood out against the dark fabric. ***

It’s not that they didn’t look like a match - she was absolutely stunning. It just wasn’t who they imagined for the boss they despised ninety percent of the time.

The group can’t keep their eyes off the couple - subtly, of course - for their whole time at the restaurant.

Harry was laughing loudly - different sound than when he laughed without a humor at bumbling, nervous employees.

It was light and higher pitched - but still gravely low; smooth like honey as his wife matches his laughs.

At one point, after their meal arrives - Harry offers her a spoonful of his food, playfully complaining that she took too big of a bite - but then immediately offering her more right after.

When she excused herself to the bathroom, Lucille catches Harry’s sneaky hand reaching out to give her backside a quick grope which earns him a warning glance that has him snickering.

Anya who was in the restroom nearly runs into her, Y/N apologizes instantly, “I’m sorry! Wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?”

Anya nods, a bit at a loss of words, talking to Harry Styles' wife, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“I swear I have two left feet,” Y/N jokes, complimenting her dress before disappearing into a stalls. A completely lovely girl.

It’s pathetic but the group lingers around to watch their boss’s full dinner date. It was creepy but they were just so stunned at the man that was sitting by them.

The couples behavior had turned more flirty by this point, Y/N’s eyelashes fluttering at little bit more at her husband, her giggles flowing more often with licks to her lips. 

By the clenched fist on the table, Harry seems to be falling prey to the teasing. 

But when his wife whispers something - that must have been filthy - and leans forward so her cleavage is displayed more, Harry’s pulling out his wallet, pulling an absurd amount of bills out and throwing them carelessly on the table.

Y/N’s eyes are twinkling in victory as her husband stands and helps her out of her chair - ever the gentlemen.

It doesn’t seem very gentlemen like though when his hand comes to the very lowest point on the small of her back -  pushing her into him. He leans down to murmur something into her ear before landing a damp, way too intimate for public kiss to her jaw and then throat.

In turn, she looks up at him with a mischievous tilt of her lip and a challenging raised brow. You could cut their sexual tension with a knife.

Y/N lifts up on her toes to kiss him before grabbing his hand and guiding him out of the establishment quickly - his eyes glued to her bum the whole time.

Jack breaks the bated silence, with a bewildered chortle, “What the fuck was that?”

Sarah sips her wine, “Maybe he has a twin? Like a good twin? And he’s the evil one.”

They all laugh and finish up their desserts. 

---

MOTHER’S DAY SHOPPING

Kasey and Tom - from Human Resources - are out for the day. It was a week before Mother’s Day and they were both scrambling for a gift at the shops.

Harrod’s was nearly empty as they had came in a few minutes after the store opened. Kasey had gotten distracted from her mission and was trying on shoes. 

There was a 40% off sale and she wasn’t passing that up.

Tom had wondered off to the electronics department very soon after the first five shoeboxes arrived next to her chair.

“Pink!” Kasey hears a high-pitched baby voice squeal with utter delight. She looks up to see a curly haired toddler pointing at a pair of pink baby shoes.

The little girl had the cutest denim dress on with white stripes ***, white tights on, and white Mary Janes. When Kasey looked closer she realized the Gucci emblem was on the dress - holy shit, she didn’t even know Gucci made baby clothes.

“Daddy, please?” The toddler asks in a sweet, small voice looking to the approaching man who scoops her up in the crook of his elbow.

“Ivy, y’can’t run away from daddy. Do you understand me?” 

Kasey’s eyes widen as she recognizes that deep, raspy voice. It was her boss, Harry Styles, and with his little mini who looked like a cherub angel.

“No run, daddy,” Ivy grins up at him, looking for approval.

The slightly stern look dissipates from his face into a softer, relaxed smile at his daughter’s words. He kept her close against his chest.

“Daddy, please?” She piques up again, pointing at the small shoes on the wall.

“Y’want those shoes?” Harry asks, nodding towards the pink sneakers.

Ivy nods before pointing at the other shoes next to it, “All, please?”

Despite her father not having any manners in the slightest, his daughter seemed to have excellent etiquette.

Harry chuckles, smoothing a stray curl down from her forehead, “Y’want a pair of all these shoes?”

Ivy nods with wide doe eyes and one of her dimples popping in her left cheek. 

“Y’mother’s going to kill me,” Kasey hears Harry mutter before waving a sales associate over.

“Good to see you, Mr. Styles - I’m Tracey. What can I help you with?”

Of course they knew him by name. He was by the looks of it one of their most appreciated customers, figuring he rarely wears the same thing twice.

“Can I please get a pair of all these shoes in a toddler’s size three? And can you please ring them up for me? Thank you,” Harry asks, his voice taking on the executive and firm tone with the associate who nods and turns on her heel.

“Daddy? Kissy?” The girl asks her father, her little palm patting his cheek and she’s puckering her pink lips.

“Yes baby,” Harry obliges, giving her a peck before blowing a raspberry on her cheek. He tugs down her dress that’s ridden up in true parent fashion.

As they’re waiting, Harry continues to talk to his daughter, “Y’know pet, we came here to shop for mumma for mother’s day. Y’always manage to get something out of it, hmm?”

“Mummy?” Ivy squawks, repeating her father’s word. 

“Yes, mummy. I think she’s really going to like the necklace we picked out,” Harry taps at her nose, his eyes just read love and amazement for his little girl.

Kasey was dumbfounded. 

This man had literally stormed into their offices yesterday, frustration seeping into his loud tone as he asked the room of employees if it was a lady's brunch club or a place of employment when he hadn’t gotten a report on his desk at a certain time.

They’d all stuttered and apologized but Harry had already slammed the door of his way out - the doorframe shaking. A nasty email being sent to their inboxes mere minutes later.

“Mr. Styles? We are out of two of the pairs,” The saleswoman appears and tells him, tablet now in hand.

Harry’s voice is calm but he looks her dead in the eye, “Do you not know how to ship them to a house? I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

She begins to apologize, pulling up a page of her tablet, “Your total comes to £6,309.45 for the shoes.”

Kasey’s eyes nearly pop from her head at the total but Harry merely blinks and states, “Charge it to my Amex on file.”

“Would you like me to add on the items you picked up downstairs? That would bring your total to £ 213,088.79. The necklace *** will be shipped within the next two weeks and will need to be signed for at your doorstep by an authorized person of your choosing, they’ll need to provide identification to certify their identity.”

“I need the necklace by next Sunday- it’s my daughter’s Mother’s Day gift to her mum - hence the pink diamonds,” Harry states to the woman like she’s stupid.

Did that woman just say that amount? And did Harry not even bat an eyelash at it. 

Kasey’s brain couldn’t really comprehend it.

“Expedited shipping on this item would be…” Tracey looks down at her tablet and taps a few buttons, “It will be an extra £3,219 for expedited shipping as it’s coming from Swittzerland.” 

Harry is distracted for a moment as Ivy is wriggling until Harry puts her down. Kasey didn’t see that he had a plush doll tucked in between his jeans and belt on his back.

“Baby doll,” Ivy pokes at her father’s thigh, too short to reach her toy. 

Harry tugs it out and hands it to her, “Stay right here, Vee.”

Ivy unceremoniously plops on the ground next to her father’s leather boot while he confirms the purchases and signs off on them.

It was cute - the plush baby doll she was playing with was ratty, worn, and very visibly loved. It seems as if it’s been her favorite toy for a while.

After finishing up with Tracey, Kasey sees him slip her a few bills for her trouble and lugs Ivy back up onto his hip.

“Shake, daddy?” Ivy lisps hopefully, green eyes sparkling up at her father’s. 

Harry lets out a chuckle, “No, baby. It’s only ten in the morning, y’can’t have a milkshake. Let go home, maybe mumma will make us some blueberry pancakes if we give her lots of kisses?”

“Mummy,” Ivy agrees happily, her plush held tightly against her chest.

“She’s going to love your gift, darlin’, even though y’the best gift we’ve ever got,” Harry murmurs lovingly, pressed a warm kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

Tom has wandered back to the shoe department, eyes unfortunately meeting his boss’ right away - widen with surprise.

Harry’s eyes narrow when he finds Tom staring, “Can I help y’mate?”

“Uh-no! Sorry, just, erm, I work for you?” Tom stutters stupidly at his annoyed employer who currently has his toddler trying to pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head.

“Then I’d recommend, if you’d like it to stay that way, you mind your own damn business,” Harry bites out with a warning tone, unnecessarily rude.

Ivy doesn’t seem bothered, delighted when she tugs the shades off his head and attempts to put them on. She begins huffing as she struggles and Harry gently takes them and slides them on for her.

Tom nods, still baffled, and scurries over to Kasey. 

They both glance back when their boss isn’t looking. He hears him murmur softly, “Let’s go see mummy.”

“Pancakes?” Ivy chirps, looking at her dad for confirmation.

“Anythin’ for you, my little love,” Harry agrees, starting to walks to the elevator to the entrance of the store. 

Tom and Kasey look at each other with unexplainable expressions as they watch their asshole of a boss clearly wrapped around a toddler’s finger. 

—-

THE PARK

“Hi! Is anyone sitting here?” Savannah hears from beside her on the park bench. 

She looks up to see a beautiful, young woman looking to be around her age looking at her expectantly. She has a backpack on her shoulders and a curly-haired toddler on her hip.

“Nope! You’re good!” Savannah replies kindly, moving over to make room on the bench for her to sit.

“Awesome, thank you. I’m Y/N and this is Ivy. Say ‘hi’,” Y/N prompts her daughter with a nudge.

Ivy puts on a beaming smile, white little blocky teeth on display, “Hi.”

“I’m Savannah and the little brunette boy in the green shirt is mine - his name’s Flynn.”

“Tell her how old you are, baby,” Y/N smiles, always trying to get her daughter to socialize as much as possible.

“Two!” Ivy giggles before impatiently squirming, “Mummy, play.”

Y/N laughs, “Just as impatient as your father. Go on, stay where mumma can see you, please.”

Ivy nods before speeding off towards the little jungle-gym to automatically start playing with the little group of kids.

“I wish I had their energy,” Y/N sighs, tugging a water bottle out of her backpack. 

Savannah was obsessed with everything gucci - even though she couldn’t afford anything - so when she spots the flashy bag, she can’t help but ask, “Is that a custom Gucci monogram multipack?”***

Y/N takes a sip before answering, “Yeah, my husband gave it to me as a gift on ‘national stay at home mum day’ - which I don’t even think is a real thing. He just knows I’ll chew him out if he buys me things like this without reason.”

They both laugh, Savannah can’t help but glance over the woman a little bit closer. She had a ratty, vintage tee on, plain black leggings, and a pair of black Nikes on - nothing that screamed over the top.

But then she spots the engagement ring *** on her finger. Savannah thought it looked so extravagant it almost looked fake. But the way the faucets reflect so magnificently in the sunshine makes her sure it’s real.

“What was that?” Savannah snaps back, realizing she hadn’t heard what Y/N was saying - too busy deciding how much money she had which wasn’t right when the girl was being so friendly.

“Oh, just - do you know any mum groups around here? I was in a group but all they liked to do was gossip and bitch. And I think Ivy heard the word ‘cunt’ one too many times from them.”

Savannah barks out a laugh, Y/N turns out to be extremely funny and friendly. She has a bit of a foul mouth and a quick wit but is a good listener.

“And so I said to the dude -“ Y/N cuts off when her phone rings, digging it out and answering, “Hi H, yeah. The one with the big purple slide, okay.”

When she hangs up, she tells her new friend, “My husband is stopping by really quick. He has a business dinner later and won’t see Ivy before her bedtime. Or me before my bedtime,” Y/N laughs.

“That’s so nice of him!” Savannah says, knowing her husband enjoyed when everyone was asleep by the time he came home. Would never go out of his way like Y/N’s husband would.

Y/N says with a smile in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s really good to us.”

They continue to chat until they hear a loud engine revving into the car park, Y/N rolls her eyes and mutters, “Of course, he brings the loudest car today.”

A vintage car swings into a spot and Savannah nearly gasps at who exits the car and begins to stride towards them. No one other than her boss. 

The man who had her doing her job by the book and when one hair fell out of place he knew right away. 

The man who she avoided at all cost possibly - taking the stairs so she doesn’t have to be in the elevator with his intimidating presence.

It took her a minute to connect the dots. Y/N was married to Harry? Harry was Ivy’s dad? It through her through a loop - Y/N was just - so nice. 

But it does explain all the gucci and the massive diamond ring. She did happen to work for a fucking billionare. Y/N didn’t come off as a billionaire or a billionaire’s wife.

‘Holy shit, this is wild,’ Savannah thought.

Harry makes his way over to the bench, Y/N standing up to hug him. Harry kisses her softly with a large palm coming to slip under the back of her shirt to rub at her bare back.

Uh - this man was being loving and affectionate? Proving all Savannah's preconceived notions about him wrong. Mostly that he was a robot.

“Hi darlin’, have a good day?” Harry asks his wife, still holding onto her and tugging her into his side - looking to Ivy who was obliviously - playing on the swing.

“Mmm, don’t want you to go tonight,” Yn/Ngroans dramatically, squeaking when Harry playfully pinches her side.

“Tell me and I won’t go,” He murmurs with surprising sincerity against his wife’s cheek, smiling when Ivy lets out a loud, carefree giggle with her new friends.

“Oh! I’m being rude. This is Savannah, Savannah this is my husband Harry,” Y/N introduces the two, unknowing of their connection.

Savannah swallows harshly and gives him a timid wave, “Hello.”

Harry shows no recognition that he knows her but gives her a curt nod and rasps out a “hello.” 

Y/N rolls his eyes at her husband, patting his toned stomach, “He’s always a little crabby after work,” She jokes as he smirks at her - he’s rarely ever crabby with his wife and they both know it.

After work? How about from the time he stepped foot through the lobby doors everyday? He only had one mode at work - crabby.

“It’s ok-“

“Daddy!” A squeal interrupts them, a blur of brunette curls crashing into her father’s legs - full force with excitement.

Harry is bending down and tucking her into his arms for a hug, “Hi baby, y’bein’ so good for mumma?”

His tone had shifted into a low, relaxed drawl that Savannah had never heard. His words are kind and caring towards his daughter.

“Good for mumma,” Ivy parrots her father, dimples popping as she pushes at Harry’s face when he attacks her with kisses.

“You taste so good I could eat yah!” Harry growls playfully, Ivy giggling delightedly at her fathers antics until her cheeks are flushed pink with laughter.

“Swings, daddy,” Ivy motions with green doe eyes. Grass and mud stains the outfit her mother had dressed her in - cute striped overalls with a white tee underneath  *** and little sneakers ****.

“Oh dove, I wish I could. I have to go back to work,” Harry frowns, his thumb coming to caress her sweaty cheekbone.

Her brows furrowed and her full pink lips turned down - Savannah has to contain a laugh by how much she looks like her father with the displeased grimace on her face.

“No, no, Daddy,” Ivy argues adamantly, her eyes brimming with sad tears.

“Vee, c’mon, my love. I’ll be home later,” Harry soothes, starting to rock her from side to side to calm her.

But Ivy is in her terrible twos and doesn’t like the word ‘no.’

Y/N comes up to her husband’s side, tucking a hand into his back pocket to rest. 

“Ivy Elizabeth, we need to let your father go. Come to mummy now, please,” Her mother asks in a soft but firm tone.

“No!” Ivy absolutely shrieks with a awfully high pitch, “No mummy, daddy swings!”

The couple shares a look before Y/N is gathering her backpack on her shoulder, looking back to Savannah, “Hey! Text me, it’s about nap time for this one.”

Savannah agrees and gives them both a wave off as Harry totes his tantruming toddler to a sleek, teal SUV. It takes her a moment to scoff internally - off course it’s a Bentley ***.

And because Savannah can’t help but be nosey she googles the price of the car and quickly locks her screen when she sees the base price is £ 210,000.

Harry is planting little pecks on his daughter’s face and murmuring to her until her tears have dried up and she’s laughing at her dad once again.

After Harry straps her into the car seat and shuts the door, he gently pushes his wife back against it. His body is crowding hers, arm over her shoulder against the car.

The talk for a moment before Harry’s ducking down to pull a few kisses from her lips before she’s giggling and pushing him off.

Savannah couldn’t wait to tell the old women at in her customer relations department tomorrow.

— 

THE GAME

Cassie didn’t mind Harry actually. She made his coffee nearly every morning and she secretly knew he was the one who left those hefty tips.

She’d fumbled over his orders a few times when she’d started and apologized profusely but Harry had just looked up from his phone and said, “S’fine.”

Yeah, that’s not much but compared to some of the horror stories she hears, but she was grateful for another reason.

—-

One day he had found her crying in a empty corridor that he used to walk to his car at the end of his day.

“Y’alright?” Her boss asks gruffly, pausing to look down at her - no clear emotion on his face.

Cassie nods sheepishly, “M’sorry, I’m just really stressed out.”

Harry’s eyes flash a tad darker, “Is Carole giving you trouble?” 

Carole was her manager.

“N-no. I got declined for my school financial aid. If I don’t come up with the money I’ll have to drop out. I-I have a son and I do-don’t have the money to go without help.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, rustling into the inner pocket of his suit and fishing out something - a checkbook.

He clicks the pen and moves his hand quickly across the pad before ripping it out and handing it to her, “Good luck and use the extra on your family. Don’t go spreading it around that I did this.”

Cassie goes to thank him or refuse it but when she looks back up from the check he’s already striding away down the hallway away from her.

She lets out a loud sob as she sees a check written for £150,000 right in front of her.

—

Cassie still works at the Starbucks part-time while attending college with the help of her secretly kind boss.

The extra money she’s stowed away in an education fund for her son after he graduates. 

Anyways, she was at Man U football game that she got invited to with her boyfriend - Jacob. His dad won tickets for box seats from his work in a raffle.

Cassie soon realized that their box was right by the Styles Media and Marketing one. The way they were placed, she could see right into their area.

It was just Harry and a woman in there. 

They were obviously a couple and this was the Cruella Deville. Cassie didn’t refer to her as that as she had a bit of a different perspective of the man.

His wife was sipping on a water bottle and cheering loudly with the rest of the fans. Harry watched her with amusement at her excited behavior, at one point pulling his photo out and snapping a picture of her.

When the exciting bit is over, she seats herself on his lap and wriggles until her back is against his chest - comfortable and cozy.

His large palm comes to cup at her stomach, Cassie now seeing that she is clearly pregnant as he cradles the noticeable bump protectively.

For most of the game, his hand never leaves her belly - rubbing circles with his thumb. His head came to rest on her shoulder to watch the game.

They seem so happy together - giggling and talking animatedly throughout. His wife constantly tilting her head back with her lips puckered requesting kisses that Harry happily supplies each time.

At one point, Cassie witnesses Y/N eat two huge corndogs in a row while her husband watches her with humor in his eye. Then goes on to order her a massive spool of candy floss that he feeds her throughout the game.

It was a late game and it was now in overtime. The clock reads nearly eleven at night. Harry’s wife has dozed off against his shoulder and when he notices he gently rouses her.

As she blinks her eyes open, Harry shucks his jacket of his shoulder and helped her slip it on. They must decide to call it a night because he’s helping her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and guiding her out of the box.

Cassie never tells anyone that she saw him that night or what he did to help her family.

The End.

Hope you bubbbies enjoyed. Send me requests for this verse. Smut is up next for this trope.

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

[etherealeeknow]

the fwb rules

• rated m for mature

• pairing: fwb!hyunjin x fem!reader

• wc: 4.559

• tw: explicit language, light characterization of an insecure reader, unprotected piv sex (stay safe, lovelies!), fingering & oral (f), nipple play, cream pie— i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: last time i said long fic isn’t my forte and this time i’ll still say the same hahahahaha. but still, i hope i don’t disappoint 🥺 please kindly note that english isn’t my first language. therefore, i apologize for any mistakes. feedbacks are always appreciated because i’d love to grow! thank you for waiting and enjoy 💞 pretty banner made by my bestie!! ilysm 😽😽😽

• tag list: @charlieshelves @es-kay-zee @formidxble @oh-my-sparkle @bobateastay @http-hyxnjxn @lyralurexrattle @hyunsluvv @healinghyunjin @sailorhyunjinz

—

what happened to the rules?

it didn’t start off like this. you can’t remember when exactly you started wondering about the five word question. all you know is that you were one bite away from gobbling a spoonful of jisung’s ice cream when it struck you: since when did you and hyunjin stop going by the rules? he’s been occasionally texting you out of the blue lately just to know what you’re up to, and today he even asked you to stay the night at his, and as much as you want to believe they���re all normal, again, it didn’t start off like this. from the beginning, you and hyunjin have come up with three rules so your relationship can work: one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking. but look at you now, lying naked and out of breath under his blanket while facing his ceiling, driving yourself insane over the haunted question. you have to get it off your chest somehow, but how? 

“hey, why so serious?” asks the culprit behind your overthinking, causing you to jump slightly over his sudden appearance and your hands instinctively pull up the blanket to cover your naked chest, which as a result, makes him chuckle. cute. “here. it’s my cousin’s,” adds the topless man as he sits on the edge of the bed and hands you a white shirt that even under the dim light, you can already tell won’t fit you.

“your cousin? the model? hyunjin, she’s tiny,” you utter, hands still gripping onto the blanket. “i’m—“

“you,” he cuts you off, placing a hand on top of yours while carefully glancing at you to make sure you there aren’t any signs of discomfort. “are fine, y/n. now hurry up. i’m sleepy,” he adds before letting go, leaving behind a lingering warmth on your knuckles.

nodding, you turn your back on him to change, and the room falls silent, causing you to hear how fast your heart is thumping even more than it should have. is it because you had too much coffee this morning? or it can probably be because the shirt is too tight that it’s cutting off your air circulation, right? right, of course. you tell yourself because as much as you dislike both reasons, they are still far better than having hyunjin as the cause.

once you’re done, hyunjin already has his back lying against the bedhead, his head tilting slightly to the side, avoiding the light coming from the night lamp on the bedside table, while his eyes bore deeply into yours. unbothered that he’s been caught staring, he averts his gaze downwards till they reach your chest and spot how your nipples are sticking out through the thin fabric.

“see? it fits you just fine,” he says, turning his vision back to your face as he opens his arms and motions them at you, only to have you remain in the same position with your increasing heartbeat.

“aren’t you gonna, uh, wear something?”

instead of a proper answer, all you get is his laugh—hyunjin’s contagious laugh that usually always succeeds in making you laugh too. but today hits differently. has his laugh always sounded this lighthearted before? no matter what the answer is, one thing for sure is that despite how sweet hwang hyunjin and his laugh are, they have never made your cheeks burn like this before, and this is forbidden. it’s against the rules.

“an hour ago we were naked while sucking each other’s face, y/n,” he finally answers after a while. “besides, i always sleep like this. now, come on,” he adds, repeating the same gesture, except this time his hands are open wider, eager to have you near him again because the space around him is starting to make him feel lonely.

complying with him, you fall into his embrace and hyunjin immediately lets his hands travel to the exact places of where they want to be—one around your head and the other around your waist. despite the room turning less cold with his warmth directly passing onto you, your heart and cheeks conditions remain the same especially since you can hear how hyunjin’s heartbeats are beating just as fast as yours when he lets you lay your head on his chest.

“hyunjin,” you call out, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt.

“y/n,” he replies, replacing the collar with his fingers instead, intertwining them with yours.

what happened to the rules?

“do... do fwb do these?” you ask, the bravery in you finally decide to show up, even just for a little.

“do this?” he asks back while squeezing your hand with all his might, as if he’s nervous.

no. not ‘this’, but ‘these’. not only the hand grabbing, but also the fact that he asked you to stay the night, that he’s cuddling you to sleep, and that you’ve been getting unusual symptoms over them until this very moment.

“yes, this,” you nod and hyunjin becomes muted, but his heartbeats are growing louder, and his grip on you has become tighter.

after what feels like forever, he whispers, voice slightly cracking, and hands getting a little colder, “yes. yes, they do.”

then the two of you become muted, but both heartbeats keep growing louder, and everything stays that way until sleep eventually takes over.

—

as a homebody, you’ve always against the idea of sleepovers. you believe home is the sweetest place and your own bed is the comfiest even when your mattress is older than a decade and your favorite plushie has had too many holes here and there. but waking up in hyunjin’s bed has broken your stigma—never in your whole life that you’d have thought someone else’s bed can provide you twice the comfort.

“looks like someone had a good sleep,” chirps jisung as he sits beside you, causing you to wipe off the smile on your face before going back to your laptop.

“wow suddenly my best friend’s a psychic?”

“hey, that’d actually make a great drama title!” he exclaims and you roll your eyes. “please do spill the tea though. what happened?” he adds.

“what happened?” you ask back, eyes still on the screen, but the corner of your lips are on the verge of breaking into the smile, knowing full well he’ll complain—which he does by lamely calling you a meanie.

laughing, you tell him nothing happened, but the way he rolls his eyes is a sign he’s not taking any of your bullshit. you are telling the truth though. besides spending the night with each other, nothing really happened, right? it was just another casual fucking session. yes, it was amazing, but that’s no news for jisung. the guy’s practically your wingman—setting you up with hyunjin was his idea because he believes you should, “live your life. have that dreamy college sex orelse you’ll regret it like my old man changbin!”

right on cue, a notification popped out on your big screen, and the sender’s name makes your heart pop too.

“aha, see!” jisung points at it. “y/n, where are you?” he reads out loud, earning yourselves all the eyes from every other student in class.

“oh my god, jisung. shut up!” right when you’re about to log out from the chat app, hyunjin sends another one.

“can i call you?” jisung reads once more and you’re only one second away from smacking his head, but your vibrating phone holds you back.

shooting jisung a glare, you make sure to close your laptop before leaving the class, answering hyunjin’s call even when you’re still half way through the door. right when you’re about to greet him hello, hyunjin beats you to it—his voice a bit raspy, but the softness in his tone still lies within, and it creates endless questions in your mind.

has he just woken up? so is this how he sounds in the morning? why is he calling?

and the list goes on because this isn’t like hyunjin at all. sure, he’s not validating the rules, but he’s breaking his character despite already alarming you to anticipate morning booty calls from him at times. he’s never actually done that though. 

“hi,” you reply, startling yourself with how small your voice came out.

“you left,” says hyunjin and you can hear him sighing from the other line, which somehow causes a slight pang in your heart, wondering if perhaps he is disappointed. “can you come back? wait, actually, let me go to you instead.” he says and you can hear the rustling sounds coming from his side.

“hyunjin, i have class. that’s why i left. i—” should you apologize? but why should you? casual, no strings attached, and no fucks given, remember? “i’m sorry.”

“oh.” hyunjin stops on his track before plopping back down onto the bed, smiling. “i’ll pick you up after class then. when will you finish?”

unconsciously, a smile creeps up your face too, but the realization hits you right after, then followed by the five word question, and you know—you know this is your guts telling you that now’s the time to ask him about it, but your heart hates confrontation. plus, wouldn’t it be rude to reply to someone else’s question with a question? “hyunjin, are you, uh, horny?”

just like yesterday, hyunjin laughs, and with the raspiness in his voice still present, he doesn’t fail to make you laugh along, but at the same time waking the butterflies in your stomach and makes you rethink your decision. mayhaps, you should’ve left him a note or told him that you’ll leave early in the morning; or even, you should’ve ditched classes today and stayed so when he wakes up, you can get him a glass of water, not leaving the boy uncared for like this. but who are you to do so? 

“isn’t it normal for a guy to have a morning wood?” he jokes before quickly adding that he’s not horny. “i just want to see you so let me go get you.”

pressing your lips together, you contemplate on whether you should let him. if you do, won’t you be turning whatever the two of you have right now into something far more complicated? but it’s only until hyunjin adds a desperate “please?” that all of your dilemma disappears, as if you’re being cast into his spell—“okay.”

—

while heading to the gate, you have the biggest urge to book a massage appointment. dodging jisung’s questions and running away from him after the first period was draining, but having to spend the day running back and forth between two buildings because thinking that volunteering as the lecturers’ teaching assistant was draining on a whole new level. other than feeling like your legs are gonna come off, your mind also feels like it’s gonna blow off—you can’t stop recalling all the things you need to start working on as soon as possible, but stepping into hyunjin’s car turns everything to 180 degrees.

you’d like to think that it’s because of the faint lavender aroma coming from his car freshener along with the heavenly cool air conditioner, but no. you know full well it’s because of the way hyunjin’s smile lit up, his eyes disappear into two small crescent moons, and his blonde hair which is becoming one with the warm orange sky that brings peace to your heart.

“hi,” he breathes out the moment you close the door, and you do the same except for looking at him, which causes hyunjin to furrow his eyebrows while speeding away.

the way home is silent, just the way you like it, but you know full well that it’s not hyunjin’s cup of tea. he doesn’t need to say it, his action is showing it all as he’s been fidgeting non stop, wiping his sweaty palm along his jeans while occasionally licking his plump lips. hyunjin’s a very vocal person. he’s talkative and loud—including in bed. you press your warm cheeks over the realization of your own thoughts, embarrassed. you can’t possibly suspect hyunjin for being horny in the morning when you yourself are being like this in the afternoon. it’s uncalled for.

noticing you from the corner of his eye, hyunjin calls out, asking you if there’s anything wrong, totally catching you off guard. what should you say? lying is not your forte, but being honest clearly isn’t the best option right now, at least, not before you shower and appear presentable in front of him—but wait, since when did that matter so much? a few months ago, you even fucked after you ran a marathon.

“y/n?” calls hyunjin for the second time.

“look, hyunjin, really, it’s okay if you’re horny. you can pull over and i can, uh, relieve you and i can just take the bus home after,” you spit out shamelessly while looking at him straight in the eyes, eager to get far away from hyunjin as fast as possible before you go out of your mind.

just like the night before, hyunjin laughs. and just like the night before, his laugh hits differently and it does nothing other than burning your already burnt cheeks for the worse.

“i swear to god, y/n, i’m not horny. i genuinely want to take you home. nothing more,” explains hyunjin, head straight at the road but eyes repeatedly stealing glances at you. “and nothing less,” he adds, voice barely audible but you caught it.

“o— oh.” is all you manage to respond before the ride quickly turns quiet and hyunjin’s hands begin fidgeting again, all the while you’re trying to decode what he has just said—what does he mean by genuinely wanting to take you home? do fwb do this too? what happened to no fucks given?—and it goes on until hyunjin hits the break in front of your old apartment building.

“we’re here,” says hyunjin, breaking the silence by unlocking the car door.

“we’re here,” you repeat after him, already opening the door and setting a foot out. “uh, thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” hyunjin shoots you his signature smile the moment you lower yourself to meet his eye level from outside the car; this time, you have no choice but to fall under his spell.

“hey, uh, you wanna come in?” you ask, biting your lower lip as a way to punish yourself for being so indecisive. one second you want to run away from him and the next second you want to be near him. come on, get a grip.

as if the punishment isn’t enough, hyunjin declines your offer, all while chuckling with his head thrown back. “for the third time, y/n. i’m not horny. go in and rest up.” 

“if you say so.” you shrug, giving him a small smile before turning around, making sure not to look back, only to fail when you hear the engine driving away.

—

you can’t quite tell—no, you can’t tell. you don’t get it. there’s an unexplainable empty space in your heart that is caused by hyunjin’s rejection. is it because you’re just not used to see him without having to fuck him? or is it because you’re hurt over the fact that he’s not in the mood to touch you? is it because of last night? is he finally sick of your flaws? things would probably be different if you had retouched your makeup or at least combed your hair before seeing him, would they? either way, you’re fully aware you shouldn’t be torn over your friend with benefits, yet your aching heart says otherwise.

and so when the doorbell rings only a few seconds after you get in and the figure you see through the peephole is no other than the man in question, you spare no time to swing the door open. hyunjin, in return, spares no time to lock his lips with yours right after he utters a brief apology. just like the way hyunjin sneaks his playful hands down your ass, you sneak your tongue in his mouth, and your action makes him smile into the kiss as he leads you back into the room and kicks the door shut with his long legs.

the way to your bedroom is actually pretty short, but with your tongues moving in sync, bodies pressing—glued, even, and eyes continuously closing in pleasure, the short way to your bedroom consists of endless stumbling, tripping, and bumping the door. once inside, you break the kiss and are about to undress yourself when hyunjin beats you to it, settling you down on the bed as he begins taking off your attire one by one ever so effortlessly. and in just a matter of seconds, his lips are back on yours again, floral scented hair falling and brushing against your cheeks, leaving you no time to wonder over the fact that it’s the first time hyunjin has ever undressed you. 

as the kiss continues, you can feel yourself gushing more and more that you start grinding on him mindlessly, needing to feel more than just his bulge poking you. your hands leave his blonde strands to tug on his hoodie, only to have him stop you—one hand around your grip and the other rests on your hip.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“need you. need to feel you,” you mumble, desperation so visible through your cracked voice. 

“what happened to the girl who was all flustered to sleep with me last night just because i was shirtless?”

autumn nights aren’t supposed to be hot, but hyunjin has proven he has the power to make the impossible happen just with his words and mocking smirk. but the rising heat on your cheeks is nothing compared to the emptiness you feel below, clenching around nothing surely isn’t the best feeling.

“please, jinnie,” you whine, tugging on his hoodie once more, hips moving against his hold.

“fuck.” is all he manages to say before getting off the bed to disrobe himself—hoodie and track pants thrown across the room, now showcasing his toned body and thighs altogether as he hovers over you.

“please take this off too. it looks suffocating,” you say, index finger running faintly through the bulge forming from his tight boxer, making it stand up even more and hyunjin has no choice but to obey you. “put your hair up too please,” you add just when he’s about to dive right back in, and again, your wish is his command.

biting to pull off his hair tie from his wrist, hyunjin smoothly ties his hair back and you’re only given a few seconds to admire his feature before his plump lips coming in contact with your hardened nipple while he toys with the other using his fingers—rubbing and pinching, making your breath hitch over the sensation, fingers digging into his bare shoulders because you don’t want to mess up his hair, and hyunjin’s low grunts pretty much indicate he’s loving it.

“more, please. give me m—”

hyunjin retreats his hand and tongue away from your breast, moving them to your naked pussy,  drawing circles on your outer labia with his middle finger. he teases you just enough and quickly slides in his digit and at the same time sucks on your clit right before you’re about to complain, making you tingle from head to toe.

“you hear that?” he asks, voice muffled, the effect of being too tongue tied from licking every part of your heat, but finger working its magic perfectly, creating loud wet noises from your fluid. “drenched. my pretty y/n is drenched,” says hyunjin, and as much as you want to comment on him for the pet name, you’re too caught up on how his lips vibrate against you the moment he starts palming himself with his unoccupied hand. if he keeps it up, you know you would come undone there and then, and you don’t want that—not yet. so you ask him to stop and he instantly does as told.

“what’s wrong? did i hurt you?” there’s fear written across his expression and heard from his tone, but you’d like to believe your eyes and lips are just playing tricks on you.

“n— no. i just,” you pause to avoid his gazes, but something within you pulls your attention back on him. “i wanna cum with you inside me,” you confess, voice barely audible due to embarrassment; all this time, it’s always been hyunjin to say such things, but perhaps, all the strange tension lately has finally gotten the best of you. you hear him mutter a low “fuck” while his pupils shakes for a brief moment before they somehow appear a shade darker. licking his lower lip, hyunjin pulls you by your legs and rests them on his shoulders, and proceeds to align his tip with your entrance, once again teasing your throbbing core.

the moment you whine is the moment hyunjin pushes himself inside ever so gently, but the stretching still has you throwing your head back, while hyunjin letting our airy moans upon your walls clenching around him. none of you can tell how it’s possible for your vagina to remain so tight after all the countless fucking session for the past half year, but hyunjin doesn’t find that troubling. in fact, he lives for that and it shows from the way his eyes roll to the back of his head as he begins thrusting in and out of you—slowly but steady, veiny hands secured on your hips, vision goes back and forth from your half-lidded eyes to your parted lips.

hyunjin leans down to kiss you for a couple of seconds, and when he lets go, he quickens his pace—leaning down once more so his length can go deeper in you, hitting your g-spot. at that very moment, you mentally praise yourself for placing the bedroom mirror right across the bed. it presents you with the magnificent view of hyunjin’s rounded, firm ass bouncing rhythmically whenever he snaps his hips, and placing your hands around them, squeezing them, nearly makes you drool over the sight. with hyunjin constant thrusts, the familiar knot in your abdomen starts to bubble up.

“oh my god,” the two of you whimper in unison as hyunjin begins to lose his tempo, moves also grow sloppy, but never once misses your spot.

“y/n, i— ah— i’m so close. fuck,” he breathes out, sweat forming on his forehead, wetting his baby hair down to his neck and chest, and you can only drool helplessly at the sight.

“me too. please cum inside me, cum with me, hyunjin, please, please,” you beg, voice a pitch higher, almost sounds like you strain your throat, and it stays the same. when you feel hyunjin twitch inside you, your hands automatically reach for the bed sheet again, but it only lasts for a second before they’re being taken by hyunjin’s own hands—he has never done this. while intertwining your fingers, his cock twitches again and his eyes roll to the back of his head, jaw falls open as he calls out your name—you naturally do the same, fingers pressing flat against his white knuckles

“hyu—”

“cum, baby,” he cuts you off, averting his hazy eyes on you, and that’s all it takes for you to break—your orgasm washes over you like waves and you cum undone around hyunjin, shaking and mewling altogether while feel the wet coldness around your inner thigh. hyunjin follows right after, shooting his hot cement inside of you; the man can no longer keep his eyes open as he buries his face on the crook of your neck, his choked moans bring music right to your ear all a while his hot breaths bring goosebumps to your unrecovered body.

after riding out your highs, none of you move. hyunjin stays on top of you, his chest rises and falls according to your hard breathing. somehow, it’s calming you down, but it shouldn’t.

“hyunjin, you’re heavy.”

“oh, sorry,” he chuckles and even without looking, you can tell his eyes are smiling too. with his remaining strength, hyunjin pushes himself up and rests on your thighs to pull his dick out of you, momentarily admiring the mixture of his juice and yours dripping down your cunt before fixing his eyes on you to study your face—also something he has never done before. 

“i’m sorry,” he mutters a few moments later, eyes now on you.

tilting your head, you sit up, resting your upper body with your hands on the bed. “all of a sudden? i came? you always make me feel good.”

“that’s what i’m sorry about. i— i didn’t mean to— i mean, i—”

you reach out to him, gently patting his thigh. “hyunjin, calm down. this isn’t like you,” you whisper the last sentence, knowing that perhaps, now’s the time to talk things out, to stop whatever is going on, and go back to how things are used to be, maybe? your heart’s just been restless for too long and apparently, hyunjin seems to be in a similar situation too.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to keep using you like this. i genuinely meant what i said. i only wanted to take you home, but we ended up here and—”

“isn’t that what fwb do?” you pull your hand off his thigh, and a frown painted across his face as if he’s questioning your question. “that’s what we agreed on. we have our fwb rules, remember?”

“one, be very casual. two, no strings attached. three, no fucks given outside of the, well, literal fucking,” says hyunjin, proving he has memorized every words to the back of his mind.

nodding, you carefully bring back your hand to his thigh, repeating the same movement you did before. “exactly. so you don’t have to be sorry. don’t worry, i’m not feeling used at all.” you end it with a smile.

hyunjin mirrors you, he smiles too; his eyes fall to where your hand is. “but what if i’m breaking them? the rules,” asks the boy whose cold hand is now on top of your warm one. “what if i like you?” his eyes find their way back to you, and that’s when you know. the difference between your temperatures; the difference between your smile and his—the sadness that lies within.

that’s when you understand. everything finally makes sense; every one of hyunjin’s unusual acts. the constant texts and calls, the undressing, the pet names, the facial expression, the hand holding.

what happened to the rules? feelings. that’s what happened. to hyunjin, it’s his feelings over the rules.

but you, what about you? the butterflies, the irregular increasing heartbeats, the flushing cheeks, the overthinking, the disappointment at some point.

“y/n,” hyunjin calls out and you don’t get to get back to him because he’s already an inch away from you, momentarily eyeing your lips before he closes the distance. once again, his blonde hair falls down, brushing against his cheek before meeting yours and it tickles you, but not in the same way as how his kiss tickles your heart; giddy.

what happened to the rules? unwanted feelings. that’s what happened. to you, it’s the unwanted feelings against the rules. and for now, the unwanted feelings are too strong for you to push him away, so you pull him close instead. for now.

—

gen’s masterlist

repeating this!! special note: HUGE THANK YOU for my awesome bestie for the banner 🥺💞💞 ily, bish!! thank you for being my beta reader too 😽😽😽

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ruined, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Why is there a mostly shirtless man in your bedroom and why is it Kim Namjoon's, your roommate's, fault? All you want to do is play League of Legends, not be visually attacked by ridiculously attractive Jeon Jungkook as his six friends perform living room karaoke at the top of their very drunk lungs.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; classic Namjoon ripping clothes; you don't have to know how to play LoL, I explain most of it; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, begging, scratching / marking, nipple play, edging / orgasm denial, handjob, (unintentional?) voyeurism, little bit of cum-eating, choking, cowgirl, cock warming); non-idol!BTS – purple-haired, kind-of-a-brat, sub!Jungkook x gamer, noona, dom!reader, ft OT6 being chaotic in the background XD

@yn-the-reader linked me in this and I was already writing about him. a prophet, maybe? XD

--

“WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?”

You died.

Not literally, but also literally.

“Fuck!”

Now you had thirty-seven seconds of gray screen to figure out why the fuck Jeon Jungkook had busted into your bedroom on this cheerful night with his black dress shirt three-quarters of the way unbuttoned, revealing most of his – oh, sweet Satan, very muscular – pecs and the upper half of his abs. He was holding something in his hands, looking helpless and sad, while you were panic buying Liandry's Anguish and experiencing a special form of anguish yourself.

“Noona, um–”

That’s right, because you were in the middle of a League of Legends game, playing Cassiopeia, the Serpent’s Embrace, also known as half-snake lady or the lamia of the champion roster or a mean version of Monster Musume’s Miia (if you know, you know, and if you don’t, be glad you don’t). Your roommate was having friends over after going drinking. All this was fine and dandy with you, because you were going to spend all night wearing headphones and playing League of Legends, therefore ignoring the outside world, until the outside world came to bother you in the form of Kim Namjoon’s – your roommate’s – mostly shirtless friend Jeon Jungkook.

He wasn’t mostly shirtless most of the time, only right now.

“Noona, Namjoon-hyung ripped my shirt…” Jungkook whimpered hesitantly, chewing on his lip. He looked awkward and distraught despite his long dark purple hair giving him a rather fierce, bad-boy look.

Namjoon was a great roommate. He was smart, conversational, and insightful. A chat with him usually led to an enriching, open-minded perspective. He was relatively clean, considerate, communicative, nonjudgmental, fun to be around, and only set the kitchen on fire twice.

The second time was your fault.

You shouldn’t have let Namjoon in the kitchen the second time.

Also, Namjoon with his friends was a wildly chaotic time. All of his friends, especially drunk, were fucking nuts. Normally, they were probably relatively calm people (maybe not Kim Seokjin or Jung Hoseok, they were very excitable), but together they were a mess. You often wondered how they could function as a group.

Currently, however, you were trying to collect your brain cells as you had mere seconds before respawning onto the platform and were forced to play again. Timing in League of Legends was very important. Seconds can mess up wave management of minions and wave mismanagement can lead to game losses if you weren’t careful. The nuances of the game were often ignored by casual players.

You were, in short, a nerd about it.

“Fucking s-shit, what h-happened?” you sputtered out, turning back to your screen, unable to look at mostly shirtless Jungkook because he was MOSTLY SHIRTLESS. Honestly, he had quite nice pecs, and you should not be thinking about that, but it was incredibly distracting, just like how it used to be distracting when Namjoon was shirtless, but several years of living with him made you accustomed to his impressive pectoral muscles, to the point where you could joke about them with him.

But this was not Namjoon – this was his younger friend Jungkook and you had no idea Jungkook was ripped, mostly because you didn’t pay attention to Namjoon’s friends.

There were too many of them and you were too introverted for that.

“I don’t know, he just grabbed my shirt and it ripped and I managed to find all the buttons, but, but…”

Cassiopeia respawned on the platform and you couldn’t ignore the snake lady any longer. You had to play the game because four random people on your team were counting on you and you couldn’t exactly type, sorry, there’s a hot man in my room with his shirt practically off and I don’t know what to do with my life, so you had to suck it up and play the damn game.

Right-clicking and keeping your eyes only on your computer monitor.

Half-listening to that trembling, silvery voice coming up behind you, making your hairs stand on end even though all he was doing was dumping the tiny buttons on your desk.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself.

“Can you repair it? Please? My mom bought me this shirt and Namjoon-hyung said you can sew, so maybe you can sew them back on? Please?”

“Yes, Jungkook, I can, just not right now, I’m in the middle of a game,” you rambled, suddenly trading damage with the enemy Viktor, trying to avoid the laser from the Machine Herald, swearing under your breath as you stutter-stepped and stunned him, poisoning him quickly enough with your abilities to avoid dying. “I will help you, I just – fucking shit, get the fuck away from me Udyr, fuck!”

“Wow, you curse a lot, noona. It’s kind of funny.”

“I – fuck– I mean, sometimes, and what are you guys doing out there? It sounds like a deranged cabaret club,” you remarked, ticking your head towards the direction of your bedroom door.

“Karaoke!” Jungkook replied brightly, still standing behind you, why was he standing behind you, it was freaking you out a little, but Ocean Dragon was being taken and a team fight was about to happen, so you had to ignore it and support your teammates in chasing down the enemy support.

Seokjin hit a high note that was so shrill that you heard it through your headphones.

“… Wow, he’s got some lungs on him.”

“Do you wanna join us, noona?”

“I can’t sing.”

“Neither can we.”

“Pretty sure all of you can sing better than I can, even Yoongi and Namjoon. I’m fucking terrible.”

“I’m not that good.”

You barely survived with thirty hit points after that debacle of a team fight, but your team had the dragon and you all were slowly on your way to victory. You pressed the ‘B’ key to return to base, but kept your eyes on the screen, lest Udyr, the Spirit Walker and serial bear stun-slapping enemy jungler, ran your ass down and killed you.

“Jungkook, your voice is absolutely heavenly. Fucking beautiful. I’m sure every human being on Earth would want to be serenaded by you.”

Silence that you didn’t notice was awkward for him because you were too busy letting out a sigh of relief and building your next item, typing quickly to your teammates. You all were about to set up for vision around Baron Nashor, a large purple worm-dragon monster that when killed provided a significant, sometimes game-ending buff.

“R… really?”

“Yeah, and you’re handsome, gorgeous, and hot as hell too, so the whole damn package,” you responded absentmindedly, realizing the enemy were trying to split-push and trade objectives so you sent some pings to your teammate to take care of that as you accompanied the main group to help clear waves of minions.

Heat.

You heard him shift beside you and suddenly his face was next to yours, watching your screen closely.

Side-step, cast your ultimate, cast your Miasma ability to ground the enemies and prevent them from dashing away, switching between auto-attacking and piercing them with Twin Fang, all in the span of a mild freak-out because why was Jungkook so FUCKING close?

“Wow, you’re so good at League.”

“I’m Diamond rank, so not that good, but definitely better than all seven of you combined.”

“Haha, true, we’re all pretty bad,” Jungkook laughed next to your ear and, oh, shit, is warm breath feathered on your neck, why weren’t you wearing a turtleneck or something and not your self-cropped oversized band t-shirt and slinky black leggings, why weren’t you cocooned in layers of clothes, because you were quickly highly aware of how attractive Namjoon’s friends were.

To top it all off, you were in the middle of a game, so you just had to tolerate it and stay calm for the sake of your teammates and your elo.

“Maybe you could teach us and we’ll teach you something in return.”

“You guys don’t even listen to each other, why would I assume you all would listen to me?”

“I’d listen to you, noona.”

Now your team was doing the Baron dance, skirting in and out of vision, daring the other team to make a move, daring each other to make a mistake so the other could capitalize on it, slowly, slowly, watch the waves, watch the minimap. Careful. You could control the situation if you were calm and not too trigger-happy. Tension in your fingers and tension in your neck because your roommate’s friend was right next to your head, observing your every move.

His violet hair brushed your shoulder.

Soft, delicate strands against your skin.

“You’re more experienced, so you would know what to do.”

Your support snap-engaged a fight and you were immediately in the zone, right clicking rapidly, cycling through your abilities, keeping track of the opponents’ spells, determined not to let any of them get away, following your teammate’s calls and not hesitating, because hesitation as death and loss, and you were so close to winning you could taste it, going after it with passionate vigor and a slow-forming grin, seeing and hearing the in-game announcer declaring, QUADRA KILL.

You didn’t kill all five of them because someone took the pentakill from you.

You might have cared about that except your ear exploded into clapping as Jungkook excitedly applauded for you, cheering you on, reminding you that a mostly shirtless man was standing right next to you.

Thanks, Namjoon, you thought sarcastically.

“Wow, you played that so well, dodging the Viktor ult and stunning three people like that–”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliments, busying yourself with your team killing Baron. You didn’t usually have someone commenting on your games. Your eyes flickered to the small buttons on your desk.

Especially not a mostly shirtless guy.

Mostly shirtless hot guy.

Back to screen, seeing your jungler’s typed instructions, suggesting you all to destroy as many structures as you could and then prepare for the next fight for Ocean Dragon Soul and – oh? Your eyebrows raised as the screen abruptly jerked to the enemy base, the nexus inside exploding into shiny gem-like fragments that became the VICTORY banner.

“They surrendered?” you uttered with surprise, clicking on the CONTINUE button. “Why?”

Your eyes flickered to the kill score.

“Oh, thirty-two to nine… maybe that’s why….”

Your team had the nine deaths and the opponent team had thirty-two so, well, maybe that’s why they surrendered the game.

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Jungkook pouted as you clicked on the damage screen. Second most damage. Okay, you could take that. You were a little distracted.

“So, about your problem–”

You spun around to, ack, realize that, yes, Jungkook’s shirt was still flapped wide open to expose his chest like an unwrapped piece of caramel candy. He seemed to realize it too, making a surprised face and yanking the sides closed, as if you hadn’t gotten a damn eyeful already.

“I can resew the buttons back on, but you should borrow a shirt from Namjoon in the meantime,” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “Because I, ah, can’t really sew it when you’re still wearing the shirt.”

“Oh… Oh, right, yeah.”

Then he started yanking his shirt out of his slacks.

UMMMMMMM.

Usually, you didn’t care about this stuff. Men were men. They had chests. But you had things you liked too. Just like how men like tits and ass, you liked well-built pecs and forearms. Actually, you appreciated a nice ass and thighs too. And cute faces. Fuck, you loved a cute face.

“Uh, Jungkook…”

He looked up, questioningly. Big round brown eyes, his violet bangs framing his chiseled jaw, parted pink lips, the small mole underneath his lower lip looking so, so kissable, quivering slightly.

Fuck, Jungkook had a cute face.

His shirt was very open.

Fuck, his lightly tanned skin.

He was hesitating around a button, his deft fingers flexed, ink black tattoos standing out on his knuckles and the back of his hand. Your legs were slightly spread, thighs flush to your gaming chair. Half a second and Jungkook’s eyes flickered back up to your face, pretending he hadn’t been looking.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Are you really just gonna strip in my room and walk out asking Namjoon for a shirt and hope none of the six guys think anything about it?”

His eyes shifted around your room. Bed with black sheets and black velvet duvet. Television with your gaming consoles. Your collection of character figurines from various games. Your black denim jacket hanging on a hook, covered in monotone patches that you had sewn yourself, mostly occult-themed, skeletons, skulls, cats, ghosts, potions, eyeballs, that kind of thing. Back to your desk.

Your legs.

Really staring at your thighs, hips, and crotch.

Up your torso, your hands, your exposed collarbones.

Your face.

Guarding his expression, testing the waters.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said slowly. His eyes darted away and back, teeth catching his lower lip. “I really am hoping you can fix my shirt.”

You watched his face carefully, the flare of darkness in those brown orbs, a hint of naughtiness, dancing with danger. Jungkook had a mischievous streak. You could tell by the way he interacted with his hyungs, listening but talking back, helping them with things but not without a roll of his eyes or a smart remark added, probably because all his friends were older and he was the youngest. He knew he could get away with it.

In short.

Brat.

“What would you like in return, noona?” Jungkook purred, smile dancing on his lips.

Honorifics were supposed to honor you. Show a sign of respect and all that shit.

All I wanted to do was play video games, you grumbled internally. Not suddenly have a thirst fest for one of Namjoon’s best friends. You narrowed your eyes a little, seeing the smirk on that perfectly shaped mouth. He’s not stopping either.

Outside your room, something fell with a loud crash. Probably Namjoon by the depth of that startled yelp. Everyone else started laughing and a very loud, cheerful melody was blasting from the living room television. Nobody was coming to investigate you and Jungkook.

Yet.

“Turn around and ask for a shirt,” you sighed, waving a hand. “Then take off your shirt in the bathroom and then, only then, do you come back and give me your dress shirt.”

You saw Jungkook frown, not expecting that as your answer.

“Oh. Okay.”

He seemed disappointed, lowering his hands.

The silky fabric of the dress shirt slid off his right shoulder, partly revealing his tattoo sleeve and fully revealing his right collarbone and shoulder.

You sucked in a breath, eyes flickering to it. Then his face. Then back to his body. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Jungkook jumped, startled by the fallen fabric and reached over to grab the fallen collar. Your hand moved faster than you had time to think. You had good reaction time. It was the gaming obsession.

You slapped his hand down.

Jungkook squeaked, head snapping up, purple hair floating around him, gold chain on his neck glittering as he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Strangely, his chain resembled your sterling silver choker that you were wearing right now, except you also wore another necklace with a circular white gold pendant with your zodiac sign.

Not that anyone was ever close enough to inspect it.

“N-Noona?” he breathed, sounding strangely winded.

Shit.

You hadn’t meant to do that. Your body reacted faster than your head.

Shit.

Fuck, he had a nice body. His pecs. Even had a nice dark nipple – well, he probably had two, but you could only see one at the moment – and it all trimmed down to a slim waist and shapely hips. You could tell because of his tailored black slacks. He had been wearing a blazer earlier in the evening too. It was probably on a chair somewhere in the apartment.

Shit.

What did Jungkook need to look so damn good for?

“Where did you guys go to be dressed like that?”

Yes, you were really just going to interrogate him with his shirt dangling off like that.

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, the tiny mole underneath bouncing up and down as he spoke. “We went to a fancy hotel rooftop bar to celebrate Yoongi-hyung’s award that he won at the music show for producing that song–”

“Ah, right, Namjoon mentioned that earlier today.” Dress code must have been black tie.

Those dark brown eyes found yours, observing you carefully.

“I would have liked to see you there, noona.”

You stopped staring at the tattoos on his bicep and made eye contact. Fuck. Those eyes. Sparkling with deviousness. Trying to see how far he could push your buttons.

“I wonder what kind of dress would you have worn?” he murmured, musing to himself. “I bet you would have looked hotter than any girl there.” Jungkook smiled, playful and boyish. He wasn’t being sleazy about it. Every word was light and honest. “A tight little black dress? Maybe bright red? Short, because you have incredible legs. It would be a crime not to show them off.” He was only complimenting you. His tone wasn’t trying to be suggestive.

Yet.

You didn’t close your legs. You had nothing to be shy about.

Instead, you leaned back in your gaming chair as if it was a throne, resting your left elbow on the armrest and your chin on two fingers, thighs wide open, and your other hand in between them, fingers curled inward to your inner thigh.

Jungkook’s pink lips curved ever higher, ever more roguish.

“Whatever you would have chosen, you would have looked so, so sexy.”

You ticked your head.

“I know.”

Because you did.

Look here, Jeon Jungkook, I’m here minding my own damn business and you’re here inserting yourself into my life, so if you can’t handle me knowing my self-worth, you can fuck right off.

He reached up and tucked a bit of his purple hair behind his right ear, grinning at you.

“You sure you don’t want anything from me?” he asked, a slight flicker of pink tongue between white teeth. “I can give first and then you can decide whether or not you want to help.”

Honestly, those sultry eyes could stop a heart.

You removed your hand from your chin, tapping the air with those two fingers in a dismissive manner.

“Hm.”

Outside, Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok were singing a soulful duet and Park Jimin was hooting at inappropriate moments to ruin the atmosphere as much as possible. That raspy, breathless laugh was Min Yoongi, who was probably doubled over on the floor in his expensive suit. Classic genius music producer of the year behavior right there.

Jungkook tucked his hands in his pockets, shirt sleeve falling down, revealing his blacked-out inner elbow. Mountains with a dark sky. It must have hurt, doing something like that. Still, he did it. For aesthetics?

You heard the smirk rather than seeing it, mostly because you were looking at his body.

“I would look so damn good on you, noona.”

Alright.

You closed your eyes slowly and reopened them to look directly into those dangerous, dangerous eyes.

“Lock the door.”

Not really an order. More of a statement. Jungkook could do it or not, you knew. He couldn’t be coerced to do anything. He did things because he wanted to do them. He was nice because he wanted to be nice. He was childish when he wanted to be childish.

And.

Jungkook was obedient when he wanted to be obedient.

He turned around, went to your bedroom door, and locked it.

Well then.

He came back and stood in front of you. A little closer now.

You cocked an eyebrow. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

Jungkook smiled down at you. “I’m sure they will.”

You frowned, lowering your hand to tap the end of the armrest. “They’re going to think I started this.”

“You kind of did.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply. He grinned, taking a step closer.

“Because it’s not my fault you look so good,” Jungkook breathed, voice deepening, leaning down, your expression unchanging, not pulling back but not encouraging anything either. “Not my fault your body is hotter than a summer. Not my fault your confidence is the biggest turn-on I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your thighs were still as open as his shirt.

Jungkook put his knee in between them.

His dress shirt was basically almost completely off his body now, falling off the left shoulder too and dangling off his forearms, exposed collarbones and shoulders, tan skin taut over muscle. A delicious body line, so fucking close to you that you could feel the heat. You still didn’t do anything. You weren’t going to do anything. You didn’t prompt this. You were simply minding your own business commanding a snake lady to victory, not expecting to get seduced by a mischievous bunny-like smile and a tiny black mole under a cute pout.

“I can’t help myself around you.”

You usually didn’t say more to Namjoon’s friends than a mere hello, not wanting to bother them with your presence. They were all men after all. You expected them to want bro time or whatever. Also, you were too busy being obsessed with men that didn’t exist in real life to pursue men that did exist in real life.

At least League of Legends had 3D models so no one could say you lived only the 2D lifestyle.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t partake when the dinner laid themselves out to be eaten. They often had to, because you wouldn’t pay attention otherwise.

Purple hair drifted into your vision, surrounding you in a curtain of violet and dark brown eyes, warm exhale and trembling pink lips, trapping you in Jungkook’s gaze, but you refused to relent, keeping your gaze even. Steady breaths to disguise your racing heart.

You kept your hands closed to prevent him from seeing your shaking fingers.

“Every time I see you, I want you to touch me,” he whispered, trying to hide the edge of nervousness by lowering his voice, enticing you to lean in to hear him better because someone was wiping a damn window in the living room outside your door or was that Kim Seokjin laughing?

There was no difference.

Jungkook’s forehead touched yours and you stopped thinking about Seokjin.

“I just want you to feel me up, rip my clothes off, and fuck me until I can’t think straight. Use me, abuse me, wreck me, ruin me,” he shuddered, definitely thinking about it, and one blink and you spied the obvious tent in his pants.

“Maybe I’m a lazy girl,” you finally said, touching your nose to his, inhaling his breath, a little bit of alcohol, a little bit of fruitiness, and that hint of cologne, fresh, clean, and intense. Something else too. Musk, maybe his pheromones or something like that. Whatever it was smelled fucking delicious, just like you. What did your perfume smell like? Spiced fire blended with addictive sweetness.

You shrugged casually.

“Maybe I’m a pillow princess.”

Jungkook chuckled.

“I can tell you’re not.”

You had to smirk.

Of course, you weren’t.

You closed your thighs around his knee and squeezed, raising to your tiptoes. He gasped softly, shivering at the simple touch of your soft thighs pressing around his muscular leg. It was disturbingly noisy out there, but here it was silent, pared down to your breathing and Jungkook’s breathing, mixing together, blazingly hot, closer, closer, doing the careful dance, daring each other to make the move that was so obviously going to happen.

“What are you gonna say when they ask you where you’ve been all this time?” you whispered, avoiding letting your lips brush against his.

“The truth.”

His tongue flickered out and barely touched your lips.

You didn’t make a sound.

Jungkook moaned, the sound drifting into your throat, and you could taste his desire.

“I tripped and fell into your lap.”

Your lips curved into a smirk.

He kissed you.

His hands on the armrests of your rolling chair, pushing it back into your desk, pressing his lips to yours, inhaling deeply, wanting to breathe you, wanting to taste you, wanting you, shivering as you finally touched him with your hands, but this was you, and your first touch wasn’t going to be wasted on a conventional innocent touch.

Your fingers closed in on his rock-hard erection and stroked him through his pants.

Jungkook moaned your name right in your mouth, eyes half-lidded, his violet hair encircling your face as he rolled his hips into your palm, whining deep in his chest.

“Fuck, yes, noona, play with me…”

You flitted your tongue between his lips and he chased it, begging you for more, and yet you continued to tease, light flicks between those soft pillows, nipping at them, even pushing up his lower lip so the tip of your tongue could draw a small heart around that mole, kissing it, so gentle, so delicate. His entire body shook, your hand palming his hardness through his pants, nails scraping against his balls, caressing all of it, acting like you owned it. Jungkook was certainly humping your hand like you did.

“You only want me because I didn’t want you,” you taunted, not bothering to hide your smirk and your slight disapproval.

“That’s not true,” he panted, attempting to get you to touch his chest, pushing you back into your chair, and yet you kept the fingers of your free hand on the cusp of what he wanted, heat close but no contact, causing him to whimper every time your fingernails barely nicked his skin. “I want you because you’re pretty, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”

Hm, that sounded familiar.

“I want you because I love watching you play your favorite games,” he chuckled, kissing the side of your lips, nose to nose. “I want you because I love that little smirk you make when you do something good. I want you because I love that aggressiveness that comes out and how you seem to lose your filter. Shit, it’s so fucking hot when you’re focused. Makes me wanna see your face when you’re pinning me down and having your way with me. Makes me want to obey you and disobey you at the same time, because I want you to reward me and punish me, I just can’t decide, fuck, you make life so hard for me.”

He punctuated hard by violently humping your hand, rattling your desk with his force.

Outside you heard Namjoon yelling “CANNONBALL” and throwing himself onto that giant gray furry beanbag you paid far too much for about six months ago. It was now a household party favorite, due to its massive size and fluffiness. At the moment, it sounded like a pile of six guys in semi-formal clothing was beginning and, instead of watching this heap of hot dudes being constructed, you were making out with the seventh guy’s face and grabbing his dick.

You’ll take this trade.

You felt Jungkook’s hands groping around, undoing his pants and the zipper, trying to get you to touch more, more, desperate for you to be all over him.

“P-Please… please, I don’t know when they’re going to notice…” he pleaded. “You’re so close, so close, ah, I can’t think, please…”

“Shh…” you soothed. “The door is locked.”

Your fingertips finally touched his chest, not disappointed in the slightest when you touched those delicious-looking pecs. They felt just as nice under your palm, his pounding heart and wanton moan vibrating up your arm.

“Aren’t you a needy little brat trying to distract me from my games, hm?”

Your fingertips hooked over the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“You’re going to have to face the consequences, Jungkook.”

You said his name like a delicious sweet about to be eaten, growl in your throat as you yanked down his underwear, capturing his lips, robbing him of his cries as you clawed down his chest, grasping his cock and pumping him, long, complete strokes from base to tip, curling your fingers around his balls, juggling them with your fingers teasingly as he squirmed and groaned. Your free arm shot around his back, digging your nails into his spine, not letting him get away. His black dress shirt was falling, falling to your floor, his bluish-purple hair in your face and his strong hands on your shoulders, sliding down, kneading your breasts through your clothes, whining that you were still wearing a bra – of course, you were, six dudes were coming over and they didn’t need to see your magnificent nipples on display, although clearly one of them wanted to see – and he was trying to get to the hem of your shirt, but you smacked his hands away, building the pressure and speed, pre-cum leaking between your fingers and adding slickness to lessen the dry friction.

Fuck, you could smell him and he smelled so fucking good.

“Noona, please…” Jungkook gasped, hands on the armrests of your chair, tipping his head back at the pleasure, pants at his fucking knees, chest, crotch, thighs on display. “This is… embarrassing…”

He meant him being mostly naked and you being dressed.

You shrugged, acting indifferent. “Not for me.”

He whimpered at your words, so noticeably dominant despite not using an aggressive or commanding tone. Either that or he was very invested in you jacking him off. You suspected it was a combination of the two, considering how eagerly his cock twitched when you answered.

“What should I do, Jungkook? Should I let you cum? Or should I play with you and stop, make you put your clothes back on and walk out there, desperate to be finished off?” you mused aloud, running your nails up his back, not that hard, but he leaned back into it so they sank into him, wordlessly begging you to do it harder, so you did, setting your jaw and scratching at his back, forcing him back into position. His cock throbbed in your hand, pulsating wildly.

Hm, he really loved it, huh.

“P-Please… wanna cum, please don’t be mean…” he gasped, thrusting his hips into your punishingly tight grip.

“Hm, why does it matter? You’ll just run to the bathroom and finish yourself off anyway, right?”

“Want you to do it, please,” he begged, his long hair curling around his jaw, dark purple locks framing the sharpness, lashes fluttering as you rubbed your thumb against the underside of the head, smearing pre-cum over the slit. “Your hand feels so good, so fucking good, better than I thought, please, I need you to touch me or I can’t get off, please…”

You removed your hand.

Jungkook cried out in denied despair, pitch hiking, the sinful sound clearly audible despite the debaucherously loud ruckus outside your bedroom door that included not one, but two people howling like werewolves for some unknown reason. At this point, you were mildly curious.

But you had a job to do.

He grabbed the front of your shirt, almost sobbing with need. Somehow his violet hair was a mess and you hadn’t even touched it. It cascaded over one of his eyes, an indigo curtain, the other chocolate orb shaking and pupil dilated, black prominent in the dark brown.

“Please don’t–”

You shoved two fingers from your right hand into that pleading mouth and raised your left.

He choked, gagging a little on your fingers.

You stuck your tongue out and licked your palm, slathering it with a thick layer of slick saliva.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the dirty action and then rolled back into his head as you wrapped your hand around his aching cock once more, now covered in saliva, swiftly and fervently jacking him off, hard, fast, tight, nearly choking his cock, pushing his chin up and his chest to your hungry mouth, tongue and teeth and lips, all over those dark nipples hardening under your persistent touch, heedless to his rising moans, so very obvious now what was happening in your bedroom.

It didn’t bother you at all. Jungkook walked in here and asked you to wreck and ruin him, so you did exactly what he asked you to do, leaving harsh bite marks and slippery saliva all over his soft skin, your perfume rubbing off onto his body, coating his chest in your scent and his pulsating thick length with your spit, and he was so fucking hard that you were impressed, feeling his mouth suck on your fingers desperately and wetly, your name a messy garble above your head.

“Fuck, yes, umpf, oh fuck, I’m so close, so close, gonna cum, goona cum for you…!”

“Jungkook?”

You had no idea who called his name through your door, because the next second Jungkook was pitching forward and shooting his cum up your thigh and chest, thick white strings painting your leggings and band t-shirt, soaking into the fabric and creating a sticky mess on your skin, your head lifting in response to his movement to avoid knocking into him, your fingers sliding out of his lips, strings of saliva snapping as they left, and suddenly Jungkook’s face was in your face, his lips on yours in a passionate kiss, rutting into your hand to increase the sensitivity, shoulders and hips flinching, whimpering gratitude and ecstasy into your mouth, his hands in your hair, kissing you deeper, more ravenously, ignoring the questioning voices, lost in the pleasure of his orgasm.

You heard Namjoon say outside your door, “I think he made his move.”

You asshole, at least warn me, you thought irritably.

“You’re so good… so good, exactly what I need… I knew you would be… fuck…”

You thrust your tongue into his lips once and backed off, chuckling as he whined for more.

“Go ask for a shirt.”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly, violet hair flying everywhere. Your hand was still wrapped around his semi-hard cock, his cum dripping onto your wrist. His ears were turning red.

“I can’t… They know something is going on…” he mumbled, scooting closer to you, as if your body heat could somehow mask the fact that you just jacked him off with six of his friends standing outside your bedroom door whispering.

“Maybe you wanted them to know.”

You squeezed his ass and he trembled, clutching your shoulders.

“Easy way to tell them that you want to be owned by me, right?”

You could tell by the way his eyes were darting around rapidly that the thought crossed his mind more than once.

“Jungkook.”

You said it loud enough for a keen ear to hear it if they were really eavesdropping. You looked up at Jungkook, his eyes immediately fixating on yours because of your tone.

In control, not to be questioned.

“Get on your knees.”

Dead silence outside your bedroom.

“B… but…”

His cheeks flushed pink.

You took his chin and pulled him down to your face, murmuring to that mole under his lips, pecking it daintily, almost innocently, his wispy moan drifting over your nose. Your words were barely above a whisper, only for him.

“You made a mess. Clean it up.”

You stroked Jungkook’s chin with your thumb, your other hand tucking his long hair behind his ear.

“I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight, so be a good boy for me right now and I’ll let you be a bad boy in bed.”

His head tilted and Jungkook whispered your name into your mouth, drenched with desire.

You smirked, stroking his jaw fondly.

He got to his knees, in between your open thighs, leaning forward, subservient eyes on your face as his pink tongue extended, licking at his own cum staining your clothes, eyes closing at your hand on the top of his head, not directing the movement, but reminding him who was in charge here, reminding him with nails in his scalp that he was going to be fucked until he couldn’t think straight.

Used, abused, wrecked, ruined.

-

“I don’t wanna.”

“We both know you do.”

“But I want to fuck you,” Jungkook protested, speaking softly because everyone was sleeping, or at least it seemed that way, not that either you or Jungkook cared, because you were forcing him to his knees on your bed, pushing his torso back, nails digging into his chest, towering over him, his naked body already covered in your bites and scratches, focused on his inner thighs and chest, none on his neck because that’s where he wanted it the most.

And you knew it.

“Noona, please…”

He said please a lot for someone who did not, in fact, want to be pleased, but tortured.

You grabbed him by the chin, cocking an eyebrow.

His hands were behind him, arms shaking as they held him up, shivering delightfully under your petrifying gaze.

“Please what? Hm? Saying please when you come crawling into my room, begging for dirty things with your friends right outside, saying please when you interrupt me and distract me, jeopardizing my chances to win my game?”

You leaned in close, you knowing you were only crafting a scene, him knowing that you didn’t actually care, but Jungkook wanted to hear the words, wanted you to put that malice in your tone to caress his ears, wanted you to cannibalize his sanity and put him in a different headspace, his cock already responding to it, bobbing in the air, purple-red and achingly hard from multiple orgasms, and he still wanted more.

“Saying please so you can say please when you’re under me, helplessly begging me to let you cum?”

You could hear his whines vibrating under your fingertips, pupils blown wide, lower lip trembling, begging you already, such a needy little thing, those lovely brown eyes full of submission, muscles tense with anticipation, every passing second spiraling him into increased frustration, because instead of doing anything, you were only smirking wider and wider, pushing his head back.

“Well? Tell me if you’re a dirty boy or not. Maybe I’ll do what you want.”

His violet hair cascaded to his shoulder blades, his low moan coursing through your fingertips and the heated air of your bedroom.

“Y… Yes, I’m a d-dirty boy…”

“Noona,” you prompted.

Just because you could.

His lips curved into an open smile, two of your fingers hooked over his lower lip, fingertips rubbing his tongue. Your thumb nail pressed into his mole.

“Noona.”

You ripped the condom open with your teeth, which was not advisable unless you were the kind of person that practiced that for hours on end, spending an obscene amount of money on unused condoms to perfect your technique, because nobody wants a broken condom or lube in their teeth. Why would you want to learn such a thing? You were a stickler for details. A perfectionist in perfecting a perfect display of raw dominance.

You spat out the torn corner onto Jungkook’s chest and he whimpered, unashamedly amazed.

Your left hand removed the condom from the package and your right slid out of his mouth and encircled his neck.

You inspected the condom, lazily turning it to the correct position, fingers pressed to the sides of his neck, leaving plenty of space for his trachea between your thumb and forefinger. You didn’t bother looking at his face. Instead, you spread your legs, poised and naked over him and his throbbing cock.

Your right hand started choking him.

Your left hand started rolling the condom down his thick, hard length.

Your name leaked out of his lips in a thin gurgle, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Say please, Jungkook.”

A sharp, distinct order.

“P… Please…” he gasped out, chest shuddering.

Your hand tightened around his throat and your pussy clenched around his cock as you forced yourself down on him.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck…”

You didn’t bother asking if he liked it. His vicious fisting of your sheets and trembling body, cries and cock included, told you everything you needed to know. You only watched the color of his cheeks, knowing there were limits to how long you could choke him. Therefore there was no time to be wasted, already starting your favorite pace, rough and hard, filling yourself with that delicious cock built to take your abuse, jaw set, gripping his throat, blood pounding under your fingertips, slapping hips to crotch, heat sparking though your veins, hotter, hotter, your smirk growing more and more smug, tongue tracing your lips as you witnessed Jungkook’s descent into sin, raising his head so he could watch you bounce on his cock with hazed brown orbs, mouth open, tongue lolling out, circulation thinning, purple hair wild around that cute, distressed face.

You let up the pressure on his neck, dark snicker rumbling in your chest.

“This pussy worth it, brat?”

The rush of missing blood into his brain, the suffocating pleasure of your pulsating walls wrapped around his twitching cock, your authoritative growl and merciless words tearing through him – you saw it all taking over Jungkook, forced to respond honestly from pure instinct because there was no time to compile pretty words or a smart comeback.

“Yes, noona, yes, I love it, I love it, this brat fucking loves what you do to him…”

You immediately choked him again and slapped your pussy onto his cock like you were whipping him.

His eyes rolled back and a wild moan tore out of his chest, cut off by your hand.

The bed creaked under you, bearing the weight of your roughness.

“I know you love it,” you snarled, leaning in, fucking him into your bed with vigor, straining his knees, so uncomfortable and so comfortable for him at the same time, pain and pleasure, clearly something he craved and loved from how hard he was. “You said you need me to touch you or you can’t get off.”

You knew that couldn’t be true.

Jungkook probably got off hundreds of times thinking about you, otherwise he wouldn’t be so ecstatic about you violently riding his dick right now.

His teeth sank into his swollen lower lip, staring at you through his lashes, his voice a thin whisper laced with insatiable need.

“I can’t cum without you anymore.”

You removed your hand.

Your hips stopped abruptly, fulling sheathing his cock inside you.

“No!”

His shout was so loud and desperate that you had to conceal your surprise, not expecting the frantic ferocity of his tone, nearly an agonized sob as he grabbed your upper arms in a crushing grip, his indigo locks crashing into his high cheekbones, sticking to his sweaty face and sharp jaw. It took everything in you to stay calm, everything to not give in and let him have what he wanted. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was knowing the role you were playing, maybe it was the sadistic side of you, who the fuck knew, but there was only a beat of hesitation, a second of you staring into those beautiful dark brown eyes, so perfect.

Just perfect.

Perfectly wrecked, willing to do anything in this moment for you to continue.

Before he could utter a peep of a plea, you shook out of his grip and seized his head, crashing his lips onto your neck.

Jungkook bit you.

Instant, searing pain, taking out all his sexual frustration on your neck, sucking at the skin, hot tongue lapping, groaning, moaning, half-crying because you didn’t move. You just sat on his dick and forced his mouth onto your neck, gleefully savoring his despair, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel the pleasure, his hands and nails digging into your waist, his teeth latched to the side of your throat, his stiff cock shuddering inside you, your tight heat keeping him hard but not letting him cum, repeatedly squeezing the engorged head brutally, driving him insane.

Insane.

You could feel his lips move, but you muffled his words, pushing his head into your neck.

Please.

Deep inhale, his wonderful scent filling your nose.

Please.

Riding the high that was Jungkook’s desire for you, fingers tangled into violet strands.

Please.

He felt so, so good, spoon-feeding the dom in you with his tiny whimpers and distraught sniffles.

“P… Please…”

You pressed your lips to his hair, murmuring his name sweetly.

“Jungkook.”

No quiver to your tone, only serene calm.

“Noona…”

His hands slid up your back as your hips began to rock, slow, so painfully slow, building the frenzy layer by layer, his hardness swelling inside you, his soft lips pressed to his hickey onto your neck, even more turned on because he knew you let him mark you, he knew in this moment you were his and only his, everything he wanted and more, his hips rising to meet yours, deepening your thrusts, matching your force, burying his face into your skin and your scent, wanting nothing more than your command over his body.

You turned his head, tucking his hair behind one ear, speaking dark whispers into that curve.

“You look the best when on your knees for me, Jungkook.”

He shivered, your name falling sloppily from his lips, drunk from your power and lost in his service.

You let go of his head and grabbed his shoulders instead, putting all of your weight onto him, now letting yourself chase it, chase the orgasm that you had been building for yourself all this time, letting yourself feel Jungkook and feel the full force of the pleasure he gave you, because, yes, of course, you served him first before you, even if it didn’t seem like it.

Because when it came down to it, Jungkook came to you, opening himself petal by petal to show you his vulnerable side, testing the waters, hoping, wishing, praying that maybe, just maybe, you were the kind of person that he was expecting, wanting, needing, and you, knowing how difficult that was because, well, you had made it difficult, only focusing on games and not on those longing eyes that watched you whenever you came into his view.

Eyes that you looked into now.

Half-lidded, glazed over, fucked-out, still honest.

His large hands were still on your waist, holding you to him as you rode him with furious slaps, muscles flexed in his chest and arms, tattoos on his right arm tense and taut from holding this position for so long. He looked so good. Felt so good. Had an amazing cock.

And fuck.

Jungkook had a cute face.

You genuinely smiled.

“I’ll take care of everything,” you drawled, injecting your words with conviction and adoration.

That did it.

His lips parted, low groan emitting from his throat as his head tipped back, purple waterfalling onto his back, thrusting up into you and shooting into the condom with fierce jolts, unable to hold back any longer, his entire length flinching uncontrollably, sweet whimpers at his release, feeling sorry that he didn’t let you cum first, but that didn’t matter, because you rode through it, already there, falling, falling, your sigh like laden smoke as your orgasm slammed into you, welcoming the bolts of cruel pulses flying through you, concentrated onto your core, Jungkook’s moans hiking into pitched ecstasy at the convulsing clenches of his oversensitive, overused cock, arms embracing you tightly, hugging you for dear life, chest to chest, pounding heart against yours.

Your fingers tangled into his hair.

His hand fitted around your head.

Lips to lips and you took care of everything, claiming that mouth as yours, holding him up even though you were the one in his lap, your kiss onto that perfect mole under that pretty pout, cherishing every mumble of your name, lowering him onto your pillows, soft kisses in between. You took care of everything, lifting yourself off him, chuckling as he whined, pawing for you to come back, but you rapped his knuckles and calmed him, removing the condom and cleaning him off gently with a towel, soft kisses in between because he wanted the attention, deliberately not closing his eyes until you crawled back into the bed, tucking the covers around you and him, Jungkook immediately turning and yanking you into his chest, nose against your skin.

“Who’s the pillow princess?” you teased, ruffling his long violet locks.

His lips pressed onto your hickey, his mark on you, and he sighed in content, drifting into sleep.

-

In the morning, you found a pile of five guys in the living room sleeping in various positions on the giant gray furry beanbag and the sofa. Jungkook was in your bed, passed out. The last guy, Min Yoongi, was in Kim Namjoon’s room, sleeping on his bed, because he was a smart man and took advantage of a perfectly good bed that five drunk hooligans undoubtedly forgot about.

You chuckled and rubbed your neck as you brushed your teeth, seeing yourself and the large purple hickey Jungkook had made last night in the bathroom mirror.

You went back to your room after retrieving the sewing basket from the living room, spending the morning calmly stitching the small buttons back onto his black dress shirt as the seven guys in your apartment continued to snore away.

Then you went back to playing League of Legends.

Ah, Cassiopeia, I had an eventful evening, but I have returned to you.

-

drabble morning-after hungover breakfast

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masterpost