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jj-one · 22 days ago

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EPISODE 1: HELP! MY HOT GIRLFRIEND CAUGHT ME CRYING AFTER GIVING HEAD! (NOT CLICKBAIT)

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

jisung thought tutoring the hottest girl on campus would ruin his GPA— not his pants. one month later, he’s somehow getting called ‘pretty’ mid-thrust and offering you pocky as a post-orgasm snack.

pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut, fluff, jisung is a loser with a capital L, humor sprinkled in bc i’m unserious asf, lots of references to anime and other dumb stuff, lowkey perv!jisung, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), piv, protected s*x, kinda subby!jisung but he’s still a whore lol words: 5.4k (wasn’t expecting it to be this long… guess i yap too much)

[ note. ] — i had to make another nerd!ji fic bc i literally cannot stop thinking about him 😣 feel free to read my other fic for more context since it’s set in the same universe but i wanted to make a smut ver so here we areeee <33 also, i will be making more parts eventually, hence why it’s labeled as ‘episode 1’ so stay tuned for more !

Jisung thought for sure that was going to die a virgin. Not in a sad, self-loathing kind of way, but more in a “yeah, that checks out,” kind of way. The type of peaceful resignation one might have while unplugging a broken router for the eighth time before crying into a bowl of instant ramen. Because guys like him— guys who quoted Dragon Ball Z unironically, who panicked when girls sat next to them in lecture halls, who built custom keyboards for fun and screamed at League. They didn’t date girls like you.

And they most definitely didn’t sleep with girls like you.

Still, that didn’t keep him from fantasizing. Constantly, shamelessly, unhingedly.

He’d never known what it felt like to have warm walls wrapped around his cock. Never heard those broken whines girls in hentai would make— unless he counted the ones he accidentally let out when he edged himself too long. His hand was simply never enough, no matter how many times he convinced himself he could “recreate the pressure.”

The bottle of lotion and box of tissues on his nightstand weren’t even hidden anymore— they sat like holy relics beside his gaming PC, ready for immediate access the second he closed League and opened incognito mode.

Porn never fully satisfied his craving though, he always wanted more. Even the best JAV compilation or doujinshi fan dub couldn’t compare to the real sickness consuming his brain: you.

You, with the glossy Instagram that he scrolled through like it was the damn Louvre. You, wearing micro bikinis in pool selfies with captions like ‘hot girl summer’ while he rots in bed, sweating and crying at the curvature of your ass.

You, biting your glittery, gel pen in class, leaning across the desk to ask for help, accidentally flashing a glimpse of cleavage so dangerous it made him pause mid-equation like he got hit with a stun grenade. Stalking your Instagram, seeing you in the tiniest baby tees and mini skirts. It was the perfect gooner material.

He’d stroke himself under the covers while biting a t-shirt to keep quiet, muttering your name between gasps like he was summoning a spirit. Fantasies playing out in his head that ranged from soft and romantic— like kissing you breathless during office hours— to completely feral, like bending you over his anime pillow while you called him “pretty boy” and ruined his life.

It didn’t help that you flirted with him now.

That you asked him to tutor you.

That you sat so close during study sessions he could sense your perfume from a mile away and taste the salt from the fries you always stole off his plate.

You laughed at his jokes, called him cute, even once said he had “nice hands,” and he nearly evaporated on the spot. Had to excuse himself to the bathroom with a boner and a prayer.

Every night ended the same. Him, fisting his cock in pathetic desperation at the thought of your pussy swallowing him whole, whispering ‘please’ like a man on the verge of religious enlightenment.

And every night, after he came all over his own stomach, out of breath and guilt-ridden, he’d sigh dramatically and say,

“I’m going to die alone. I know it. I’ll be the guy with the Zero Two body pillow and the unopened condom pack from 2017 that he keeps in case of a miracle.”

He did not, under any circumstances, expect you to be that miracle.

Never in a million years did he think he’d actually have a chance, let alone be dating you. You were just too perfect. The literal girl of his dreams.

Popular. Gorgeous. Cool in the kind of way that made any and everyone want to be around you without knowing why. You had that magnetic charm about you, an easily contagious laugh, a confident stride when you walk, and that dangerous habit of licking your lip gloss mid-sentence like you were in a CW drama.

And yet, somehow, here he was, currently horizontal on his bed, shirtless, breathless, with you on top of him wearing his oversized Bleach t-shirt and not much else, grinning like you’d just won first place in a science fair and a dance battle.

“Are you glitching?” You asked, poking his cheek. “Do I need to unplug you and plug you back in?”

“I- uh- w-what? No- yes? No.” He stuttered like every word had just magically left his vocabulary, he was definitely malfunctioning.

You laughed, head dropping onto his bare chest as he laid stiff as a board, arms hovering midair like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you even now. Even after dating you for a whole month.

“A month,” he whispered, still stunned by the timeline. “That’s like… thirty days of you voluntarily being seen with me.”

“Thirty one,” you corrected, lifting your head to smirk down at him. “Don’t forget the bonus day where you kissed me in front of the vending machine and the entire basketball team clapped.”

“I thought I was going to throw up.”

“You looked like you did throw up.”

Jisung covered his face with both hands and groaned.

God, he still didn’t know how this happened. When you had asked him to tutor you in stats, he assumed you were just kidding— or high. But you weren’t. You’d actually shown up. You’d flirted, sat on his lap one time when all the seats were taken at the library, and then acted like it was no big deal while his soul left his body.

And now here you were. Straddling him. Teasing him. Literally wearing his t-shirt with the anime print on it and calling him “baby” in the kind of voice that should be illegal.

“You’re so tense, Sungie,” you murmur, lightly dragging your fingers down his chest. “I know you like it when I touch you. You make these cute little gasps like a baby bird.”

“I-I don’t sound like a baby bird,” he mumbled, absolutely sounding like a baby bird.

You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Chirp.”

Jisung squeaked.

You lost it, giggling into his neck while he covered his blushy face with a pillow. “Oh my god, stopp- why are you like this- why did you choose me,”

“Because you’re smart, and sweet, and you get all flustered when I call you hot. And because,” you sat up again, hips rolling ever so slightly and watching his pupils blow wide as you rocked against his clothed erect, “you say things like ‘This is just like my fanfic’ under your breath and then deny it.”

He groaned at the sudden friction, arms falling limp at his sides. “You heard that?”

“Babe, I hear everything. Like right now, I can hear how bad you want me to ride you.” You bit your lip, feeling your wetness growing at a rapid pace as you continuously grind on him.

Jisung whimpered. “Okay. I- this is really happening, right? This isn’t like, some kind of VR dream or like a… cursed hentai plotline where I wake up and you’re actually a sentient toaster?”

You blinked. “What the hell kind of anime are you watching?”

He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Nevermind, pretend I didn’t say that..”

You kissed him then. Slowly. Tenderly. Like you had all the time in the world and like you couldn’t believe your luck either. Because yeah, you were the cool girl, but Jisung was the first guy who actually listened when you talked. Who remembered your favorite boba order. Who’d stayed up until 3 am tutoring you and still walked you to your dorm with sleepy, nerdy affection twinkling in his eyes.

So yeah, you were gonna roast him forever— but you were also gonna ruin him tonight.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, reaching down to tug his sweatpants lower.

Jisung was in the midst of catching his breath like he’d just run a marathon. “Y-yeah?”

“After I make you cum, will you tell me all about the sentient toaster anime?”

“…Maybe.”

“Okay,” Jisung panted, curling into your side like a baby koala clinging to its mother, “that was better than every hentai I’ve ever seen.”

You snorted into his shoulder. “High praise coming from the man who owns a $300 body pillow.”

“She was limited edition!” He quickly defends himself.

You playfully roll your eyes, kissing his flushed cheek. “So are you, Sungie. So are you.”

And yeah, Jisung still thought he was going to die a virgin once upon a time.

But now, wrapped in your arms with kiss marks littering his neck and your laughter still echoing in his ears— he was just really, really glad that he’s been proven wrong.

The moment you straddled Jisung and kissed him again, something shifted in the room.

And not just him having an outer-body experience for the sixth time in an hour.

You pulled back from his lips to look around, and the first thing you said was, “Okay, I have to say it- your room is the most aggressively virgin-coded space I’ve ever been in.”

“I told you not to look too closely!” He whined, burying his face into your neck as you giggled and craned to inspect the chaos surrounding you.

“Let’s see…” you started ticking things off on your imaginary list. “Anime wall scrolls? Check. Neon RGB light strips that make your room look like a gaming dungeon? Check. Is that Hatsune Miku in a glass case next to middle school spelling bee trophies?”

He groaned. “They’re collector’s items—”

“You were runner-up in 8th grade and you framed it.”

“I peaked early, okay?!”

You laughed so hard you fell forward onto his chest. “I love you.”

He froze. “Wh-what?”

You blinked. “I said I love you.”

He looked like you’d just offered him a lifetime supply of ramen and also stabbed him in the heart.

“…I love you too,” he whispered, barely getting it out before he hid under the covers.

You tugged the blanket back down just enough to see his red face. “Hey. Don’t hide. I wanna see you. Look so pretty when you blush.”

“PRETTY?!” He yelped.

You nodded in confirmation, brushing hair off his forehead. “Mmhm. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. Especially like this- messy hair, pink cheeks, all breathless under me…”

He made the most broken noise you’d ever heard.

His hands gripped your hips like he didn’t know what to do with them, like he was trying not to crush you or himself with how desperate he felt. His eyes were dark now, glazed and locked onto your every move as you slowly ground against the bulge in his sweats.

“This is real, right?” He meant to ask that in his head but blurted it out instead, voice slightly cracking. “This is really happening?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Feels pretty real to me, baby.”

At this point Jisung was spiraling.

Not just emotionally. No, that happened daily.

This was a full-system shutdown.

You’d tugged your shirt off without warning and smiled down at him like it was the most casual thing in the world, and now his hands were hovering awkwardly mid-air like he wasn’t sure if he had permission to touch you or if he was being Punk’d by the gods of horny delusion.

Your skin. Your smile. Your fucking tits.

And worse— worse— as your fingers brushed through his messy brown locks and your thighs shifted over his hips, his brain suddenly screamed,

‘I can’t believe I’m about to get pussy before Jeongin.’

Jeongin, his slightly cooler, slightly taller, still-a-virgin roommate who had three rotating Discord kittens and a suspicious amount of cologne but somehow still never scored.

Jeongin, who walked around shirtless after push-up sessions and said things like “it’s not rizz, it’s charisma” unironically. Jeongin, who once said “I want my first time to be passionate and respectful” but also accidentally downloaded a virus trying to pirate a hentai dating sim.

Jisung had always assumed if one of them was gonna make it out of virginhood first, it’d be the guy with the Uzumaki clan symbol tattooed on his ribs and a social life.

But no.

It was him. Han Jisung. The guy who owned a limited-edition anime titty mousepad and squeaked like a kettle when a girl touched his arm. And now? You were grinding up against him slowly, teasingly, and he was barely clinging to reality.

“Y/n,” he whimpered, clutching your waist like you’d float away. “Can I- can I eat you out? Pleasepleaseplease.”

You blinked rapidly.

“…You wanna—?”

“So bad,” he choked. “I think about it all the time. Like in class. And when I watch those ‘how to’ videos online. Like, the diagram ones, not the porn ones, though I watched those too- but like educationally! For science!”

You stared blankly.

He was sweating.

“Okay,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re really cute when you beg, y’know that?”

He nearly ascended.

You barely had time to giggle before he flipped you gently onto your back, hair falling into his eyes as he ducked down between your thighs like a man on a mission from God. His hands trembled as he slid your shorts down, breath hitching at the sight of your soaked panties.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “It’s real.”

You snorted. “What were you expecting? A hologram?”

“I don’t know!” He cried. “I was starting to believe you were some kind of high-level succubus sent to punish virgins.”

You cupped his flushed face. “Wouldn’t be the worst punishment.”

And then he locks in— eyes meeting yours as he sticks his tongue out, licking a long, fat stripe across your clothed slit. Soft. Slow. As if he was trying to memorize you with his tongue, the heat of it makes you jolt. He’s not just tasting you— he’s learning you, tracing intricate patterns with his tongue like he’s trying to decode you one flick at a time. Every motion is precise yet hungry, like he’s writing a love letter in Morse code directly to your pussy. His glasses slipping adorably down the bridge of his nose, solely focused on pleasing you.

You gasped at the feel of him against you, the pressure of his mouth sent heat curling low in your belly, it was torture. Too much and not enough. You needed to feel him without the barrier of soaked lace clinging to your folds, and he must’ve read your mind, because he groaned like he was the one being denied. He kissed your pussy like he was thanking it, mouthing over your clothed core before dragging open-mouthed kisses across your inner thighs, leaving your skin slick with spit and bites to your inner thighs. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, everything about him felt so warm.

His teeth grazed you— playful, hungry— and your hips twitched as he whispered something nasty under his breath, half to himself, half to your cunt. By the time he slid your panties down, your thighs were trembling, tossing the flimsy fabric aside carelessly, like he didn’t care where they landed, only that they were gone. Then he buried his face between your legs like you’d been starving him for his entire life.

His tongue slipped between your folds, hot and greedy, lapping up everything you gave him like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He flicked up and down with obscene precision, wet, messy, relentless— his nose bumping your clit as he moaned deep in his throat, like he needed this, like the taste of you could make or break him. You were soaked, legs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry, and all he did was keep eating like he was trying to crawl inside you with his tongue.

You were loving the way it feels, every bit of you being hit with electricity. Your fingers tangled in his hair the second his mouth met your pussy, gripping tight, yanking just enough to make him groan into you like he was grateful for the pain. He never slowed down. If anything, it made him hungrier, tongue flattening against your slit before flicking up again, sloppy and fast and fucking filthy.

“God- fuck, you’re so messy,” you gasped, thighs twitching around his head. “You like that? Being my dirty little mouth toy?”

He moaned. Moaned. Into your pussy.

Nodding obediently, even as you tugged harder, grinding him closer. His glasses were long gone, hair disheveled, chin dripping with spit and slick as he slurred out something unintelligible against your clit. His tongue working overtime like he was trying to spell your name in cursive with every flick.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, words caught in his throat. “I could live here.”

You threw your head back with a laugh— and then a sharp gasp as he got bolder, messier, more desperate. His hands kept you spread, his tongue curling and licking and worshipping like this was the only chance he’d ever get. He was sure that he’d jizz his pants just from giving you head— sure it’s pathetic, maybe even tragic. But he couldn’t help it. You were just too hot, too perfect, too fucking unreal, and the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your thighs squeezing around his head, it was better than anything his fist or filthy imagination had ever given him.

Your fingers remain tangled in his hair, holding onto him for anchorage. He looked up at you with glassy, pleading eyes, the lower half of his face glistening with your arousal and rosy cheeks. “Tell me I’m doing okay? Please? I read five articles about this. I practiced on a peach.”

You gasped. “You practiced on what?!”

“Nevermind. Just- keep calling me pretty. I swear I’ll die happy right here.”

You tugged his head back down, voice ragged and ruined.

“Then make me cum, pretty boy.”

And he did.

Like a man with something to prove.

Like a nerdy little virgin who had just found his true calling.

Your eyes closed shut at the feeling, falling apart at the seams. Every stroke of his tongue making your insides tighten. You suddenly couldn’t remember how breathing worked, all you saw were flashes of white invading your vision, cumming so hard that you almost saw stars. You cried out, high and broken, hands grasping at his head as you came hard against his mouth.

Jisung moaned through it— loud and messy— tongue never letting up, licking you through every twitch, every gasp, every last jolt of overstimulation until you were tugging at his hair for dear life and gasping for air. Only then did he pull back, lips shiny, eyes half-lidded, face absolutely drenched, and smiling like he just beat the final boss of his entire life.

Somewhere in the past twenty minutes between Jisung nuzzling your thighs like a man starved and moaning like he was the one cumming, you had apparently blacked out, transcended the mortal plane, and been reborn as a puddle of girl.

Now, you lay sprawled across his unmade bed, fully clothed from the waist up and violently ruined from the waist down, chest heaving, eyes wet and glassy, one sock half-off your foot like a casualty of war.

And Jisung?

Jisung was cuddled up beside you like the world’s horniest golden retriever, chin resting on your shoulder, looking so smug and soft it was almost offensive.

You could still feel the ghost of his tongue between your legs.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?” You croaked out, blinking up at the ceiling like it had answers.

Jisung tilted his head innocently. “What, that? Nah. I just… researched. A lot. And I… uh, practiced on a fruit.”

You turned your head slowly. “Was it the peach again?”

“…It might’ve also been a mango. For tongue agility. But I named it after you, so it was romantic!”

You tried to snort, but it came out as a wheeze. “I can’t feel my legs, Jisung.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Still taking it as one.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead like he hadn’t just destroyed your entire nervous system with his mouth.

“I feel like I just unlocked a secret side quest,” he victoriously cheered. “‘Satisfy hot girlfriend until she sees God.’ Bonus XP for oral stamina. Am I your favorite now?”

You blinked at him, still fighting for air. “I don’t even know my name right now. You’ve ruined me.”

Jisung squeaked and tucked his face into your neck, practically vibrating with joy. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“You should. I saw the afterlife. It was just a video game buffering screen.”

He laughed, then rolled onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this is real. You’re real. Your thighs are real. I had a girlfriend and head privileges all in the same night. I feel like I need to call my mom.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late. She deserves to know her son peaked.”

You smacked him lightly with the nearest pillow, still grasping for air, still dazed.

And then he smiled at you— so big, so genuine, so sickeningly in love that your tired heart clenched.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, y’know,” he mumbled, brushing hair from your face. “Just say the word.”

You looked at him, the boy with anime figures on his shelf, lotion still on his desk, and love in his eyes, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Next time,” you whispered, “I’m returning the favor.”

Mindlessly reaching into his sweats, the second your hand wrapped around his length, you froze.

“…Jisung.”

“H-huh?”

You gave a blank expression. Looking down. Looking back up.

“This is- you’re.. how is this even—?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” he cried. “IT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE, I’M ONLY 5’7!”

You stared at him like he just told you he had a second life as a Marvel superhero.

“Oh my god, I just assumed you’d be, like—”

“Average?!” He gasped, scandalized.

“No! I just- I mean- look at you! You’re this cute little nerd with anime socks and a keyboard with cat ears.. how are you packing all this?!”

You were in utter disbelief, there’s no way your sweet, stammering little boyfriend had been walking around with a dick that big and had no idea what kind of weapon he was carrying. Just raw, untapped dick potential— XL stats on a man who still apologizes when his knees crack too loud. Poor baby had been lugging around a whole third leg, and didn’t even know the first thing to do with it ;(

He simply shook his head, fully tomato red now, flailing beneath you like he was about to spontaneously combust. He watched you like he was afraid to blink. You pumped him once, slowly, watching him shiver under your touch. His lips parted. His back arched. You hadn’t even gotten started and he already looked completely ruined.

“Can I ride you?” You asked sweetly.

He nodded so fast his head could nearly fell off. “Yes. Yes, oh my god, yes- please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You cocked your eyebrow.

“I’ll uninstall League right now if you ask me to—”

You giggled as you rolled the condom down over him, letting his hands greedily grab at your thighs. He was panting, forehead glistening with a sheen of sweat, like his brain was overheating just from the anticipation.

Then you finally lowered yourself, sinking down onto him, gradually, feeling the way you take him so easily from being soaking wet. Jisung mumbles something illegible under his breath as your cunt swallows his cock whole. It didn’t take long for you to reach the end of him since you were already so ready for him, staying in the same position to feel all of him inside you. His cock was splitting you open so nicely, it felt like you were in utter paradise.

And he made the sound.

Like his soul physically left his body, floated into the air, and gave you a salute on the way out.

“F-fuck.. you’re tight, I can’t—” he clutched your waist, eyes fluttering. “I’m gonna die. This is it. This is how I go.” He desperately bucks into you, wanting to feel more movement from you.

You move your hips to match his rhythm as you gain your balance, pressing both hands on his shoulder blades. You bounce slightly up and down on his cock, feeling your walls being filled up by every inch of him. You shifted from grinding on him real slow to picking up your pace indefinitely. Jisung threw his head back against the pillow from the pleasure, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass with the combination of it jiggling as you rode him like a bunny was enough to make him want to burst on the spot.

You leaned down and give him a chaste kiss. “Best way to go, huh?”

He nods vehemently. “Please don’t stop. Ever. I’ll cancel my Crunchyroll subscription for you. I’ll stop buying figurines. I’ll even delete my Genshin account.”

“Okay, now you’re being dramatic.”

He groaned helplessly as you continuously rode him like your life depended on it, breath hitching with every drag of your hips. He was so sensitive, so overwhelmed with it all that he couldn’t stop moaning into your mouth, mumbling broken, incoherent things like, “You feel soso good,” and “I can’t believe I get to have this,” and “Am I still breathing? No? Cool.”

You kissed down his jaw, showing no signs of stopping. You knew this was going to be one of those moments you’d both play on loop in your heads for a long, long time. “Still pretty, baby.”

He pants out. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You simply keep moaning as you kept bouncing on his cock, he was thrusting back into you, going even deeper. Your eyes reaching the back of your skull from the way he was hitting all the right spots. It wouldn’t take long before you started screaming his name and showering him with endless compliments.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Ji.” You were a broken record at this point, nothing but your whines and his grunts filling the room. You felt tense, your clit was throbbing, the pressure build up making you dizzy. Jisung couldn’t keep his eyes off you for a second, the way your tits bounced through your shirt, the way your long acrylics dug into his skin, he wasn’t even sure how he was still alive.

This was better than any of those fake scenarios that he’d absentmindedly create in his head, better than finally beating a level that he’d get stuck on for hours. He was in pure heaven, and he felt his high approaching any minute.

“I-I think ’m gonna cum,” he desperately choked out, rocking into you like a dog in heat.

Jisung was wrecked beneath you. Hands fisting into the sheets, mouth agape, his eyes rolling back every time you sank down fully and clenched around him.

“Fuck, please- please, I-I can’t,” he whimpered, voice shaky, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. His stomach tightening with every motion, trying so hard not to lose it.

You leaned forward and cupped his face, riding him a little harder, the slap of skin soft but steady. “You said you could take it, baby,” you whispered, voice syrup-sweet. “You begged for this.”

“I know, I- just- pleaseplease can I cum?” he panted, nearly on the verge of tears. His voice was raw, wrecked, like every second you didn’t let him was a cruel punishment. “’m so close, I’m- I’ll be good, I swear, just let me.. please—”

You seal his lips with yours, just to quiet the begging, grinning against his mouth as his hands fumbled for your hips again. He moaned into the kiss, his hips twitching helplessly under yours.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you beg,” you airly chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at him. His eyes were wild, glazed over, the pretty sounds he made were like music to your ears.

“Th-thank you,” he sobbed, the gratitude in his voice borderline ridiculous. “’m gonna- I’m- oh my god—”

And with that, he finally let go. Releasing every last drop of his seed into the condom, muscles tensing up, gripping you like you were his only tether to reality. He looked down to see your arousal creating a white, creamy ring around the base of his thick cock, almost about to cum again just from the mere sight alone. Your legs felt like jello, you were weightless, collapsing onto his sweaty, sticky chest as you try to catch your breath, brain all foggy in your post-coital daze.

You didn’t expect him to cry.

Okay— not, like, full sobbing. But a little misty-eyed? A little “what did I do to deserve this?” A sparkle in his gaze as you lay draped across his chest, both of you blissed out and glowing in the soft, RGB-lit afterglow?

Yeah.

He was trying so hard not to sniffle.

“You okay, baby?” You murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Jisung nodded, eyes wide and glassy. “I just… I thought my first time would be like, awkward. Or disappointing. Or I’d accidentally sneeze into someone’s mouth and get banned from touching boobs forever.”

You laughed against his skin. “Definitely didn’t happen.”

“No,” he grins, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “this was better than anything I could’ve ever imagined in my head. Better than my first SSR pull in Genshin. Better than when I tried the seasonal spicy chicken ramen and lived.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “That’s a pretty long list of victories to beat.”

“You’re the only victory that matters.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned playfully, “who is this smooth man and what has he done with my sweaty, anime-obsessed virgin boyfriend?”

He huffed, burying his face into your hair. “He’s still sweaty and obsessed with anime. He just… also happens to be madly in love with you.”

You smiled into his chest.

“Also,” he added, completely deadpan, “I think I saw the shadow realm.”

You snorted. “When?”

“When you said I was pretty and grabbed my—” His voice cracked. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I can’t say it. My ancestors are watching.”

You giggled, shifting to lay next to him and intertwining your fingers with his.

And for a while, it was just quiet. Safe. His hand slowly brushing over your side. Your heartbeat syncing with his. The faint whir of his PC fan still spinning in the corner because, of course, he never actually shut it down.

Then he jolted upright suddenly, as if he remembered something urgent.

“Wait.”

You blinked up at him, amused. “What?”

He slid off the bed, naked except for one, singular sock and scurried to his cluttered desk. You watched, dazed and curious, as he fumbled with drawers and cracked open a cabinet that definitely shouldn’t have had food in it.

Finally, he turned around triumphantly. Holding out a white, rectangular box.

“Pocky.”

You stared. “…Seriously?”

“I always imagined I’d give my girlfriend Pocky after her first time with me,” he said solemnly. “Like a weird little anime reward.”

You sat up and grinned. “You are a weird little anime reward.”

He climbed back into bed beside you and opened the box, pulling out one, white chocolate-dipped stick and offering it with both hands like it was a sacred gift.

You bit it gently from his fingers.

“Mmm. You’re such a good boy,” you purred with a playful smile, “giving me snacks after ruining me.”

He short-circuited. Almost choking on his own Pocky. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I hope so.”

You kissed his cheek, then his nose, and then— just to mess with him— you whispered, “Still thinking about how big you are, by the way.”

Jisung made a noise so high-pitched it could only be heard by dogs. He flopped face down into the sheets, flailing helplessly while you laughed and straddled his back.

“You have to stop saying things like that,” he muffled into the pillow.

“Why?” You asked sweetly, brushing his hair back. “You’re my pretty boy. I’m just appreciating what’s mine.”

He peeked up at you, still pink, still glowing.

“…Promise you’re mine too?”

You leaned down and pressed your lips against his, soft and slow.

“Always.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #skz fluff #han jisung fluff #han smut #han x reader #han jisung x you #skz fic #skz fanfic #han jisung oneshot #stray kids oneshot

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biteyoubiteme · 8 months ago

Text

black cherry flavored

ot5 txt x fem!reader

synopsis: how many ghostfaces are there again?

warnings: 🔞!!! gangbang, mentions of drinking, getting scared, fearplay? reader gets chased through house and doesnt know who it is, knifeplay (only used to cut off underwear), clit play, mean dom moments, filming during sex, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f!), creampie(s), marking, subspace, fingering, oral (m! rec), hair pulling!, overstim (f!rec), she/her used prob forgot some

wc: 9.2k (this one got away from me)

an: this is not proofread at all im so so so sorry forgive me sweet angel ily but I cannot believe october is over and this event has come to an end ;-; I hope you guys like this one! im a HUGE horror movie fan so I was excited to do this and hopefully it turned out well. I went with a different approach for a scream fic that was kinda based on different aspects from the movies and I hope you like it! feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the rest of the fics! [dumdum m.list]

"whats your favorite scary movie?"

You roll your eyes, hand coming up to cover the screen of your laptop. “Aren't you supposed to be doing your own work not pestering me about mine?”

It was late in the night, the library dead silent besides the hum of the heater and faint typing on stiff keyboards. The door to the study space was cracked just enough to hear the elevator if it dinged, the indicator the floor would soon be closing for the cleaning staff. The clock on the wall told you it was close to one in the morning, only an hour away from the library being cleared and closed.

“I'm avoiding the rest of my essay,” beomgyu shrugs, clicking his pen as a signal for an end to the line of questioning. “Annoying you just seemed like a better plan,”

“Annoying all of us, I needed this done an hour ago,” yeonjun doesn't even look up from his laptop, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, lenses glossed over with the light from his screen, fingers speeding over the keys only to pause and jam the delete button. “Fuck, i lost my train of thought,”

“It's already late, just turn it in tomorrow morning,” huening suggests, slouched back in his chair, thumbs nibbly swiveling on the joystick of his switch. “The syllabus said it was ten points off no matter how late after twelve you submit it,”

“Don't talk to me right now, you got yours in on time. And I'm getting this done tonight whether I like it or not. I won't be able to handle looking at it tomorrow morning. the paper just won't get turned in at all if that happens,” yeonjuns back to typing furiously squinting at his laptop not noticing kais grin.

“You should have listened to me about meeting up at nine, but nooo-”

“Huening,” yeonjun warns.

“I'm just saying…”

Yeonjun picks up one of Soobin's scattered pens from the table, tossing it at Kai hitting him in the lap. And when Kai just laughs, Yeonjun picks up a few more to throw, the showering of pens making Kai yelp.

“Shhh,” soobin doesn't even lift his head to see what's going on. He and tae had been trying to sleep for the better part of two hours, Taehyun having found success, sliding two chairs together to prop his legs up. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and hasn't said anything since closing them. Soobin only crossed his arms and laid his head down, leg bouncing showing he was still struggling to actually find it in him to sleep without his bed.

The six of you usually booked the room on Friday nights from nine to two, blocking the time to try and catch up on work before the weekend. It was either the time you got the most work done or none at all. You're surprised it took beomgyu this long to finally turn away from his assignment at this point he's usually at the whiteboard doodling or trying to get everyone to play dirty hangman.

It was easier to get all of you together here instead of one of your small dorms, the space hardly big enough for three people let alone six. In the library you didn't have to worry about cramming together, the fourth floors study spaces equipped with long tables and eight chairs. Out of the two libraries on campus this one didn't have many people visit often, especially not when the walk from any of the dorms was twice as long. The fourth floor was empty and quiet except for the group's laughter on nights you didn't worry about work.

“You didn't answer that question,” beomgyu points out again, pointer finger pushing away your hand blocking the screen, “what's your favorite scary movie?”

“I didn't answer it because I can't choose,” you confess, scrolling through the paper you're writing for class.

“Is your homework twenty questions?” soobins voice is muffled, annoyed and sleep-ridden.

“No-”

beomgyu cuts you off before you could explain, brows scrunching as he reads. “Looks like it, this one is ‘what are the rules around sex’ there is no way this actually for your class,”

“What?” this pulls soobins head up, the messy strands of his dark hair sticking up around his forehead.

“Of course you wake up when you hear the word sex,” yeonjun quips, pursing his lips reading over his work on his screen.

“No need to wake up you type so loud i couldn't fall asleep,” soobin says brushing his long fingers through his hair, you always noticed the later it got the grumpier he became, pouting lips and half lidded eyes always making an appearance after midnight.

“It's for my film studies class. We’re learning about the rules of horror,” its clarification enough for soobin who nods but beomgyu lets his head tilt to the side, the vision of a question mark.

“Rules? You can't just send a killer in, have them spill some blood, and call it a day?”

“You could, but i'm sure it would follow a pattern, even without you realizing it,” scrolling through your work you pause on the first option. “First you have to think about the time period when the movie was filmed. Most of the popular ones ranged from the 80’s to the early 2000’s. A huge push in most cultures is the topics of sex, drugs, and money. It's the three things people try to control the most. Throw a bunch of badly behaving teens in with a psycho killer playing god and you can tell the masses how wrong something is. Like having sex,”

“So wrong it would get you killed?”

“Yup, in most, if not all, horror movies the people who have sex on screen or are known for sleeping around get killed off, leaving the poor virgin alive. Main characters who live to the end also don't drink, or do drugs. Rich people aren't safe, especially if you have a big empty house with lots of stairs, doors, and windows. The more for you to make the wrong decision not to exit from,”

“Then who does live?” Kai asks, game paused in hand.

“The girl next door lead, never her boyfriend, the camera man, unless you see him leave the group because you should never leave the group under any circumstances. But everyone else is fair game. Oh and if you say ‘i'll be right back,’ the lines a killer in and of itself,”

“So I'd die because I like to have a good time?” yeonjun asks, fingers paused on his keys as he looks over at you. Everyone but tae is turned in your direction, listening intently.

“Unless you're the killer, or lucky because you weren't in line of the camera when you decided it was smart enough to leave the house. It's very kill or be killed. Another rule is to never trust anyone,”

“The list just gets longer and longer,” soobin sits back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he stretches, “you know i saw this one post on twitter that some people like the whole masked killer thing, gets them off,”��

“Of course you would be on twitter looking at stuff like that,” gyu fakes disappointment, shaking his head, “this is exactly why you wouldn't survive, you're a closeted perv,”

“I don't know about closeted perv, he was openly scrolling past hentai the other day in the dorm,” yeonjun is back to typing, soobin kicking the foot of his chair.

“Past it, i didn't pause on it,”

“It was on your for you page! Clearly you have a habit of liking things akin to it,”

“I don't know, I think it's kinda hot, the mask thing. or i guess more so the build up of fear, it's almost like foreplay, your pulse starts going, you get all flushed. And I did see this clip of these two guys dressed up…” this wouldn't be the first time any of you confessed to watching something that turned you on. All of you had been friends for years, growing up nothing had ever been an off limits topic. You can see the video in your head, the way they held the girl between them; how they manhandled her down onto the bed.

“So you and soobin are both freaks,” beomgyu grins, the need to tease showing right in his eyes.

“A threesome is not freaky,” Taehyun states, breaking his silence, hat still over his eyes, fully relaxed and laid back. If you hadn't known the sound of his voice you would have assumed he was still asleep, if he had even been asleep in the first place.

“Agreed, anything over three is a little freaky,” soobin shrugs, bending over halfway out of his chair to pick up his fallen pens.

“So would you? Sleep with more than two people at once?” gyu asks, the tilt back to his head, “this is the true test if you're freaky or not,” he chuckles.

“I mean yeah… would you?” The question is directed at the room and you watch the question lay over them like fog, each of them thinking for a second, blank expressions all the way around.

Taehyun was the first to respond, shrugging his shoulders before nodding briefly, “I wouldn't let the opportunity slip by if it was offered,” It was a unanimous yes from all of them, the hummed agreement not too surprising.

“Done!” yeonjun smashes one last key before stretching big, “finally fucking submitted, and right before we have to leave, im surprised the staff hasnt gotten around to our room yet to kick us out,”

Taehyun pulls his hat from his face, sitting up with a yawn, “good, i needed my bed two hours ago,”

It always felt so good to sleep in on a saturday after a study session like this, you could already feel how cozy it would be to wrap up in your blanket. And even if the mattress was shit with or without the foam topper, it was better than laying out in the chairs like taehyun just was.

All of you cleaned up the space, making sure to tuck in the chairs, pick up the discarded cups of late night bad decision coffee. Squishing in the elevator together, bags bumping into one another before you filed out; passing all the empty desks and empty aisles of books to make it out the front door.

As soon as the outside air hits your cheeks you know it’s going to feel like a long walk back to the dorms. the boys tucking their ears into hoodies, zipping their jackets up, you and kai lived in the dorms on the opposite side of campus from the rest of them, their walk shorter by only a few minutes.

“Okay we’re still on for dinner tomorrow right?” Kai asks the group.

beomgyu’s jumping on the balls of his feet to try to generate some warmth. “literally just text us, I cannot think about tomorrow when i’m this cold and sleepy,”

“Yes, we’re still on, I've been craving anything other than dining hall food for the past week,” yeonjun adds, shivering as he pulls the straps of his bag closer to his chest. “We'll still meet up back here like usual,” he was walking backwards as he said it, already a few steps behind the others, “but see you guys tomorrow or should I say ‘i’ll be right back!’” he jokingly yells while the others wave goodbye.

“don’t play jjunie, you might be next! don’t trust anyone!” He gives you a silent salute in response as you and Kai head out for your walk.

Instinctively the two of you are shoulder to shoulder, bumping into one another every other step. Silence following each muffled step on the pavement. Sometimes the two of you didn't say anything until you split on the elevators. a quick ‘goodnight’ or ‘see you tomorrow’ thrown out as you step out on your floor, waving as the doors closed back up so he could go up one more level. Other nights it was the two of you giggling trying to keep it down as you walked under the moonlight, too late to be loud.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the wind hits the treeline. spots of orange light from the spaced out street lights are rare, casting the two of you in darkness every time the moon is behind the clouds; every several feet the hash light is back in your path.

“So you'd live? In a horror movie?” Kai asks, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders to his ears from the cold. The wind is hitting him right in the face, tossing his hair from his eyes where he liked to keep it. He asks it so softly, the question highlighted in the divot of his brow, nose pink, face washed in the glow from the moon.

“I'm not really a virgin so…,” it's not an embarrassing confession but when it's this late with his eyes trained solely on you it's like a spilled glass of red wine on white sheets. Impossible to look away from.

“You wouldn't live for knowing how people survive?”

“The smart ones usually die from bad luck, they know to head for the car waiting in the lot but forget the keys or if the keys are still in the ignition they never check the back seat. They know if you run into the woods to escape you can hide, but how unlucky for a rusty forgotten bare trap to be waiting for your next step. or if you miss that one here's a log to trip over, only to tumble down a hill and break your neck. Call the police? You're in the one movie a phone works only for you to forget never trust anyone because the police work for the killer,”

“So none of us make it?” It's such an open question the way he asks it, the hopeful twinge hitting the ending, twisting it into something it shouldn't be. Written right over his features the soft words unsaid, can't we? There has to be a way.

“This isn't a movie kai, we’re fine,”

“I know, it's only a question,” he's so easily flustered when alone, second guessing everything he says, as if one slip up will make you hate him. Now he's blushing, both of you falling back into comfortable silence. You can tell he's thinking by the way he's biting at his cheek, eyes watching his feet, making sure not to miss one step. You assume it's the end of what he has to say, his silence following you all the way back to your floor. The elevator doors opened finally giving him the courage to speak up. “Do you…”

“Hum?” you lift your arm to hold the doors open, turned to see him struggling to get the words out.

“Do you want to come with me to my parents cabin,” he says it all in a rush, avoiding looking you in the eyes just in case you reject him. “I mean you don't have to, the guys won't be there and if it makes you uncomfortable-” he cuts himself off, hand at the back of his neck, trying to rub away his embarrassment, “forget it- forget i said anything,”

“It's okay, I'd love to go. where is it?”

“Um it's like two hours from campus, my parents need me to check on it just cause and i thought, why not make a weekend of it? I mean, you can finally sleep on a real mattress, not whatever was issued here,”

A weekend away did sound good, perfect after the semester you were having. And Kai is as sweet as they come, spending time with him wouldn't be bad at all. “Sure, when are you thinking?”

“Next week?”

It was all so very innocent, a sweet boy asking a girl to join him on a weekend getaway. He even packed you snacks for the drive, let you pick all the music, and made sure to carry your bag in when you arrived.

You weren't stupid enough not to realize why you were here and the other boys didn't get an invite. The whole week you thought it over, pushing around the idea of being with him. And you could tell he was tossing it around all throughout the drive, periodically blushing without saying a thing to you, hands tightening on the steering wheel; knuckles turning white from the pressure.

Halfway through the drive you realized exactly what he meant by cabin. Not the kind sitting near the edge of a trail, but one hidden deep into the woods for perfect seclusion. Kai had a late class to make up for and the two of you didn't get started on the drive until the sun was already setting behind the trees. Every shadow thrown across the road drew longer and longer as the car kept on.

The gravel driveway leading up to the cabin was a stretch, but when you finally broke past the winding path the gleaming two story was not very cabin like. The windows reflecting the cars headlights back at you expanded most of the first level. Wraparound porch dotted with chairs, and a swinging bench. As soon as kai killed the engine the silence stumbled in, darkness spilling over the scene as you climbed out of your seat.

“This place is huge,” you whisper, as if anything louder would disrupt the peace of the outdoors. You held your phone's flash up in front of you, huening fumbling to put the key into the lock on the first try. Each attempt from his shaking hand failed.

“Here,” you took the key into your own hand, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

“Sorry,” his voice wavering as he flips on the light switch, “i'm just- you know-,” he cuts himself off not wanting any more embarrassment to follow him.

As soon as the lights come on you can't see anything outside, the windows a reflection of the room. A tv hanging over a huge stone fireplace, welcoming couches spaced out in a semi circle around a wooden coffee table, a bar topped with dusty glasses pushed in the corner. Kai kicks off his shoes by the door, walking further in you notice the dark hallway leading deeper into the first floor, a staircase waiting right by the entrance. But kai ignores it all while walking towards the kitchen.

“I mostly have to check the doors and windows to make sure no one broke in,” he's trying to fill the silence, rambling to kill his nerves,”one year we had someone steal the tv, we don't really leave much now just incase, so that's why it looks so empty,”

“People actually drive all the way out here and break in? The last time i saw a turn off the road before this one was an hour ago,”

“You never know, it's best to just check and fill out a report sooner rather than later,” in the kitchen the backdoor is made of two foggy planes of glass, only the outline of kai seen in the weavering shape. He twists the knob and to your surprise it gives way and opens, “damn one of my sisters must have forgotten to lock it last they were here,” You lean your hip against the kitchen island, taking his explanation as is.

“They come out here to check too?”

“Rarely they mostly come with their friends but stopped when they realized there is zero phone service this far out,”

“There isn't?” you hadn't even checked to see if your phone was working, “what if someone had broken in? You have no phone to make a call from,”

He chuckles pointing past your shoulder, right on the end of the counter a sleek black cordless landline rests in its holder, the blinking red light showing one waiting voicemail. “Sometimes it can be spotty but for the most part its a solid line of communication,”

Hand still on the knob of the backdoor he locks the door before walking over to the pantry, finding only a crate of dusty wine and a stack of old jiffy pop popcorn.

“Wait, I didn't think they made these anymore,” you reach out for the thin metal handle attached to the panshapped popcorn container. Shaking it you hear the rattle of the kernels, “when i was younger i thought it was just something people had in movies,”

“My sisters and i love the stuff, it's also easy to pop outside over the fire,”

“So all you leave is popcorn and wine when you're not staying here?” you tap the crate of wine with your foot, his grin boyish and shy.

“It's a good thing for us now i guess,”

It's what leads you to sharing the bottle, passing it by the neck as he gives you a tour of the house. His lips right at the spout, nerves loosening up with each sip he takes, creaking steps leading up the second floor. “And here is my room,”

It’s right at the end of the hall, bed neatly made with a single stuffed penguin sitting against the pillows. “You left him here all alone?” You ask, picking up the plushie, Kai's standing in front of the closet, the slatted doors making up most of the wall behind him facing the bed.

He shrugs placing the half full wine bottle down on his dresser, “someone needed to protect my prize possession,” he falls right onto the mattress, head thrown back, hair spilling against the pillows, “i always sleep so good in this bed,” cheeks flushed from the wine, half lidded eyes watching you from under his lashes. It's an invitation you don't pass up.

You climb in after him, feeling relaxed from drinking even if it was only a little bit, you can tell it's helped him too, his lazy smile so blissful. “I'm sure this bed is good for other things too,” you don't even care about being bold, not alone with him under you as you dip your head, nose brushing his.

The first kiss is so soft, a brush of lips together lasting no longer than a second. Kai whines in the back of his throat, an ache for more hidden in the desperate sound. It's addicting to have someone seem so needy for your attention, his legs instinctively tangling with yours, hand at the back of your neck pulling you back down for another kiss.

The two of you fumbling to feel at each other, your hand sliding up under his shirt to touch his warm skin, his stomach flexing at the brush of your cold fingertips. His hand at your waist pulling you closer to him, needing you as close as he can get you. The kiss is sloppy in seconds, his tongue sliding against yours, noses bumping as you breath in each other. You can feel that he's semi-hard, pressed against your thigh between his legs.

He's a mess, whimpering when you pull away to take off your sweater, leaving you braless in a tank top. greedy hands back on you, pulling you back down on top of him, he’s grinding onto you desperately, fully hard from only kissing.

every little noise he makes is caught in your mouth, his fingers fumbling for the button on your jeans. you have to pull away after his failed attempt, giggling as you brush his hair back, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening we have all night,” you remind him, “I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” he's looking up at you with total devotion, with an expression that lets you know he'd let you do anything if you asked.

“Please?” and it doesn't even matter what he's begging for, you would let him do just about anything in return for looking at you like that.

You're quick to rid yourself of your pants, falling back to the bed and letting him roll on top of you. Hands in his hair as he presses into you, one hand holding himself up while the other snakes down between you two. The soft gasp you let out eggs him on, drawing soft circles over your clothed clit like he knows exactly what to do. You twist your fingers into his hair, his lips tracing down your neck, hips back to grinding into your thigh. At first you don't notice the smell of popcorn. It's faint upstairs, wafting in through the vents, buttery and warm as kai slips his fingers into you. Your hips rolling on his hand, meeting every thrust, heel of his palm pressed to your clit.

It isn't until the popcorn starts to burn that you say something, the tang in the air subtle as kai sucks hickeys on your sensitive skin. “Is something on fire?”

Kai pulls away from the crook of your neck, “what the fuck?” breathing deeply to catch the scent. It's clear in the air now, hanging around like a question. “Stay here,”

it's so unceremonious when he pulls his hand from your panties, fingers dropping onto his tongue to clear them, “i'll be right back, okay?”

“O-okay,” you're confused more than anything, knees pulling in feeling overly exposed all of a sudden. It's silent in the house, the soundtrack of your kissing dimmed to nothing, before it's replaced with the creaking of his dissipating steps down the stairs.

You feel a little foolish sitting in his bed, the crumpled sheets and discarded plushie a reminder that this is not normal for a hook up at all. Letting out a long breath you push out of the bed, all relaxation felt before now gone as you reach for the wine bottle on the dresser. You take a heavy swig from the bottle, needing your courage back. It felt silly to worry over burnt popcorn.

Your stomach turns, sickening realization settling in. the two of you had only picked up the wine, neither of you even put the jiffy pop close to the stove's burners. You're quick to look for your phone, checking in the pile of your clothes on the floor, and finding nothing. Your bag was by the door downstairs, right next to the shoes, if your phone wasnt up here it was bound to be in your bag.

You didn't say anything as you made it to the top of the stairs, not until the phone rang. Not the familiar song that came through your speakers but the deft echo of a warning siren. The kind of ringtone that was played in a movie when someone was receiving bad news, and it didn't stop, traveling up the stairs, playing once, twice, until nothing but silence.

“Huening?” your voice wasn't as strong as you wished, faulting at the end as you took your first step down the stairs.

No response.

The last step creaks under your weight, the sound triggering the phone, that chilling ringtone back in the air. All the lights are on, nothing outside the windows visible as you watch your reflection walk past. You look right at the front door as you walk past, all of your things still in place, even Kai's shoes are still right where he left them.

In the kitchen you find the ringing phone, the little screen bright green as it shows the incoming call. The skins faucet turned on, the pelting water beating down on the thin aluminum foil of the jiffy pop, hastily tossed into the basin. Thin rivulets of smoke still curling from the singed popcorn. The stove's gas burner still lit with a blue flame.

The ringing continues as you turn everything off, feeling suddenly too cold and alone standing under the golden lights. It doesn't help that you're only dressed in your panties and tanktop, bare feet padding across the tile to pick you the phone.

Unknown caller. Read the directory, not even the number shown underneath. You hit answer before you could think better of it.

“Hello?” your pulse was in your ears, washing down your neck, but you're stunned to recognize the voice over the phone.

“What's your favorite scary movie?”

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you respond, “kai, are you using the ghostface voice on me right now? You already had your hand down my pants no need for the theatrics,”

You can't even pick up a trace of his real voice over the filter, the soft chuckle on the other line trickling down your spine. “You didn't answer my question, you have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“So we’re quoting the movie now?” you ask, looking around the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop. “Should i go all in and start asking to make it to the sequel?”

He chuckles, so soft and sensual, unlike his usual boisterous laugh. “Maybe…but a little birdie told me that you're not a virgin and you know what happens to those who sleep around right?”

“Enlighten me,” you cross your arms smiling at your reflection in the window. It's a bit silly to be here roleplaying in the first place but it's not like you're against it. What gets you is that it's coming from kai of all people. So soft and sweet, giggling and shyly walking you home. But you truly never know what a persons into until you're faced first with it.

“They don't last very long,” so smug as he says it.

“They don't?”

“Nope, and you have a list of things that you've already done wrong. I don't know if you truly deserve to make it to the sequel,”

“Oh? What did I do wrong?” you smile, checking out your nails, thumb running along the bed of your cuticles as you listen.

“Humm, let me see. First you're all alone in that big old house, did anyone ever tell you never to go into the dark and scary woods all alone?”

“I'm not alone, i have you,”

He ignores the last half of your statement, “Aren't you? hum, funny how i don't see the boytoy around anymore,”

“I can't believe you planned all of this, who knew you would be so freaky? I can't say that it doesn't turn me on though,”

“Oh? How cute that you still think I'm your little boyfriend. I mean didn't you see the signs? The door was unlocked in the back, popcorn on the stove when you didn't put it there, and now a missing boy toy. It's a shame you seem to have forgotten everything you've learned in class, or maybe it was the wine,”

“A few sips won't make me stupid, seriously huening come out, i want to get back into your bed,” you push off the counter, walking back toward the living room until you're stopped dead in your tracks. The sound isn't coming from the phone but just up ahead around the corner.

Your laugh echoes in the empty house, followed by your own words, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening, we have all night, I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,”

You follow each line into the living room, the tv on and showing a video of only minutes ago.

“Please?” kais weavering voice seems so loud here instead of between you two.

You can see yourself push down your pants, watch the way the two of you fall right back into each other. Only now you're seeing it from the perspective of the closet, it's the only place you could think of that he would have placed the camera. The slats of the wood even in frame. It's like someone dropped a bucket of ice water on top of you. Standing in front of the tv as if you're Carrie from the prom and someones set up a cruel joke.

“Cute huh?” the voice over the phone asks, that little laugh following right after, “i sure think it is. Look at the way your body reacts to his fingers, you’ll be that pretty for me won't you?”

You feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, the house too big for this kind of game. Even just standing there now alone it felt like you were a fish in a bowl, stuck to be watched from all sides. And not from the video but from the figure standing right on the outside of the window.

He was dressed in all black, nothing like what kai had been wearing before. And covering his face the dripping white mask of ghostface. You only catch a glimpse because the lights are on but it's enough to remind you that maybe this isn't a joke. “Are you outside?”

“I don't know? Am i?” but as he says it you see down the hallway a dark figure step out of a doorway.

Everything in you freezes, your heart rate plummeting, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin. You hadn't even noticed your fingers had been trembling before, not until your deathgrip on the phone starts to hurt. “Don't hang up on me,” he warns over the line, but the person down the hall doesnt even have a phone in sight, his slow prowl reminding you to move.

You take off back towards the kitchen, the back door playing in your head as the best possible exit but as soon as you're in front of it, tugging on a door knob needs to be unlocked you see the haze reflection of two more figures waiting right against the glass. You can hear the laugh of the person on the phone even if it's not to your ear as you rush to pull open any drawer that might have something in it to protect you. But every pull leads you to find nothing at all, “what the fuck!”

The door shakes as they try to pull it open, the glass rattling as you lift the phone back to your ear, “okay huening, that's enough, i get it, ha ha, funny, but seriously-”

“Were you looking for a knife?” he cuts you off, voice so calm when you're falling apart.

“What?” you're exasperated, huffing the question like it's a slap in the face.

“I know where one is, if you want it,”

It's then that the masked man from the hall comes into the kitchen, the steel knife in his hands glinting in the light. “You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” youre desprate to find an explanation for this. The island is between the two of you, his head tilting to the side, the open mouth of the mask mocking you as he takes slow steps around the marble. You're matching his every move, both of you circling the kitchen like two fighters waiting for the ding of a bell.

The door rattles again, the sound making you yelp, hand pressed to your racing heart. It's the distraction you need to bolt right through the kitchens arch way and run to the front door.

You're moving so fast you have little time to slow down, partially slamming into the door, fingers fast to twist the locks.

As soon as it's opened you're standing face to face with another ghostface mask, his black clad outfit sticking to his figure as he towers over you, phone hovering right over the mask's gaping mouth. “Hum not out the front door i guess,”

You try to slam the door shut but his boot clad foot moves fast catching it right before it could close completely. Spinning you run towards the stairs, the sound of their following footsteps close behind. The door to the bedroom is still wide open as you barrel through turning around and throwing the door closed and twisting the lock.

But it's only a moment of relief when you feel a hand clasp around your mouth. Your scream is muffled from their fingers, your eyes closing as if that would fix the situation, the phone in your hand falling to the floor, “Shhh it's okay,” Kai whispers, a strong arm wrapping around your middle pulling you closer to him.

The weight is lifted off your shoulders hearing his voice, hands wrapping around the one covering your mouth to tug it away. “What is going on?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him. your back is to the door and he steps closer backing you right up against it.

“Didn't you say you found it kinda hot, the whole fear thing?” he asks, leaning close enough to kiss, “i wanted to make it extra special for you, and you don't mind if we all share you, right?” his knuckle lifts your chin up so you’re eye to eye, nose to nose, his normal shy smile turned devilish. “All you have to do is say no,”

It was crazy to say yes. your heart still pounding, breathing only just starting to regulate, and yet you want him, you want them. “I-I don’t- I don’t want to say no,”

“Then don’t,” he pushed his whole body against yours, engulfing you in his warmth, taking you for another kiss like you hadn’t left the room at all. You don't even notice him unlocking the door, not until the knob is shaking against your back.

Kai pulls you towards the bed, the closet doors behind him open showing the empty space with a lone camera on a tripod. The red light looking back at you like a warning, you looked right down the barrel of the lens wondering if you would ever see this again, and praying that you did. Kai fit his fingers over you eyes, “don't look at it, don’t think about its there,”

You hear a chuckle, so similar to the one over the phone, only without the filter. Now so easily recognizable as yeonjun, you can picture the way his mouth looks as he does it, his canines on display as he smirks. You don't even have to see him to know, you've known all of them so long you're sure one touch and you could guess who was who. And with both of kais hands on your eyes the brush of someone's fingers on your cheek lets you know exactly who it is. Soobins hands are the softest of the bunch and your face tilts in his direction. “Soobin?”

he lets out a huff of a laugh, “you caught me. And you know it's kind of rude not to open the back door when we come knocking,”

“You scared me,” it's a soft confession that they all chuckle at.

“Did we?” beomgyu teases, so much closer than you expected, the ghost of his touch going up your arm, goosebumps popping up along the trail.

Your senses are on overdrive, pulse loud enough to be heard if one listens close enough, every little thing heightened by your fading fear and covered eyes. You feel a hand slip down your stomach stopping right before your panty line, a single finger sliding under the waistline to pull it and let it snap back against your skin. You jolt from the contact, body flush with kai’s, his hard cock pressed to your back.

You hear rustling from the closet, and kai lets you go, letting you see yeonjun taking the camera in hand. He's adjusting the viewfinder, the others standing in a circle around you, it should be intimidating, the masks off now, looking at you like you're something to eat. It's taehyun that steps forward first, thumb reaching out to drag across your bottom lip. You open your mouth letting him press the digit flat against your tongue.

“You’ll be good for us, won't you?” he asks, and you close your mouth sucking his finger as you nod. He smirks, “i want first,”

It's all he says before he's pushing you down on the bed. It's so quick the air is almost knocked right out of you, your hands scrambling to find purchase on the beds duvet cover. It's almost a shame how wet you already are, the way your panties are cut away, the cold knife in taehyuns free hand only just brushing your skin. The fabric tossed around from person to person. “I did most of the work,” kai adds as you bury your face into the sheets, “she wouldn't be this prepped if i didn't start early,”

“And that's why you have to wait,” “You didn't even get her off,” they talk over each other.

“You guys didn't give me time!” kai tries but they ignore him when you give a sharp whine.

Taehyun shoves his fingers right into you, your body so willing to take him in. but you hear his belt being undone with one hand, and it's a shame you cant see the way his cock looks from this angle, because as he pressed the tip right at your entrance, slick fingers helping to lude up his veiny shaft, you can tell he's going to be the perfect stretch.

Your moan as he sinks into your warm heat is echoed by the rest of them, a choir of the perfect voices turned husky and wanting. “Holy shit,” teahyun breathes his hand pressed right to your lower back, your feet dangling right off the edge of the bed, toes only just barely touching the ground.

“Doesn't she feel amazing?” kai asks, “fuck i bet she fits like a fucking dream,” gyu adds as he walks over to the other side of the bed climbing in to lay against the headboard. His zipper was already undone, pants low on his hips as he watched you get pounded into.

Because tae was not holding back anymore, it felt like he had been waiting all night for this exact moment, to chase his high without question. And your pussy was so welcoming, sucking him in, practically begging for his cum.

Yeonjun walked around the bed, zeroing the camera in on you as your legs bend, heel of your feet pushing on taes thighs. Taehyun wraps his hands in your hair, tugging your head back, extending your throat to the camera, arching your back just right, “i want to be able to watch back how you looked while i fucked you okay?”

“Oh, look at that, huening marked up our toy already,” soobin reaches out a finger, tracing over the hickey kai had left on your skin, your eyes were wide and begging as you watched him, mouth caught open in a moan as taes thrusts turned sloppy. “Fuck, look at that mouth,”

yeonjun bent down to catch the image. “I think someone needs to fill it,”

Soobin didn't need to be told twice. He was tugging his cock out of his jeans, leaking precum already dotting the tip as he gave it long languid strokes. Your mouth was already watering at the sight, knowing taking him down your throat would be a task but one you wouldn't back away from.

But taehyun was already cumming, orgasm cresting as he slammed his hips into your ass, cock twitching as he let out a deep rumbling moan. He let go of your hair, head falling forward into the duvet as he stilled inside you pressing as close as he could get, the tip of his cock hitting you just right as he spilled inside you.

“I want next!” gyu calls out, raising his hand like he knows the answer to a question.

“No-” soobin starts but beomgyu is already moving from his stop on the bed as taehyun pulls out, the gush of warmth leaving your cunt dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun is quick to catch the sight on film.

“Look at that,” it sounds so endearing coming from him, a true sight to behold as you whine from the feeling of being empty. You feel like a ragdoll as soobin pulls on you, tugging you further up the bed so that you're on your hands and knees in front of him.

“Open,” his tip is already prodding at your lips. You feel the bed dip behind you, gyu finding his place as he drags his fingers through the leaking cum traveling down your legs, he does his best to shove it right back into you, fingers dragging over your clit, circling it as soobin shoves his cock right into your mouth.

You give a muffled yelp, tongue flattening to make it easier for him to slide in and out of. His head is rolling back, hair spilling around his ears as he moans. He twists his fingers in your hair, both hands wrapping around your head to bob you up and down on his dick like his own personal toy. You're nails dig into the sheets, the sloppy sounds of him fucking your throat taking up the most sound.

Beomgyu keeps one hand on your clit and the other guides his cock into you, he's quick to snap his hips forward sending you forward on soobin, until you're choking for air. Moans sending vibrations up along soobins shaft. His eyes tighten, needing to pull away before he cums too quickly, face flushed red as rivulets of your saliva still connect you to him.

The constant pressure put on your clit from beomgyus fingers has your stomach tightening in knots. Now that you're not taking soobin in beomgyu picks up his pace, the skin on skin slapping sounds melding with your whines. “I want you to cum for me, i want to be the first one to make you cum, please,” he sounds so desperate, not matching the way he drills into you, tip hitting your cervix in a mix of painful pleasure. He can feel your fluttering walls, every particularly hard thrust making your cunt react just right. And when you cum hes a blubbering mess, “fuck fuck fuck-” not expecting to cum so fast, but youre drawing it out of him, with each little sound you make. He's almost embarrassed by how long he cums for, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder blade, his dick pulsing inside you, curses turning to nonsense, the drawn out, “fuuu- ahh, ah,”

“Look at how pretty she looks when she cums,” yeonjun smiles, bringing the camera close to catch the way you are trying to blink the spots from your vision, “soobin next? Or maybe kai? Both of them seem to have waited so long for you,”

Kai leans back against the dresser, arms crossed as he watches you, expressionless as he follows the shape of your body. Only one of your tank tops straps are on, your breasts already spilling out from the thin fabric, soobins eyes caught on your peaked nipples as he strokes himself. But you look back over to huening, the way he's standing there like he's unaffected at all. But you know it's not true, not when he's straining in his pants, the bulge itself drives you insane. “Hyuka?”

The shyness in your voice is what does it for him, beomgyu only just pulling out of you with a hiss. More cum dribbling out as he pushes his hair back looking at his handiwork. Yeonjun is right next to him too, getting the perfect shot.

Taehyun languidly lounges back against the headboard, cock still hard as it rests against his stomach, hand wrapped around the base as he watches you. It distracts you enough not to see kai moving replacing gyus spot.

Kai wraps his hand in your hair but unlike taehyun he forcefully pushes your head down into the mattress. The whole mit of his hand cups your skull, your whimper making him chuckle. His free hands traced up your side, slipping under your tank top as he feels along your skin. “You know I was thinking about this the whole walk back after our study night?” his hand dips down fingers sliding along your wetness, “i kept thinking about how perfect it would be to absolutely ruin you,”

You're already sensitive from finishing already and kai can tell as your thighs tremble but it wont stop him from pinching your clit. Your hips push back against him, yelping as he goes on to rub circles over the bundle of nerves. “Seeing it happen- watching you get used as a little cum dump is so much better than I ever imagined,” he works your clit, building up his speed until your back is arching, nails biting into your palm as you feel your orgasm building too quickly. You're trying to rock back into his hand but the way he has you bent helps very little. Your cries heighten until he pulls it all away.

“No huening please!”

“Aww how cute, she's begging,” beomgyu laughs and you're whimpering in response.

“Kai…please!”

“You're already doing so well because i want you begging to be filled with my cum, crying from how badly you want it,” his hand goes back to your cunt, pressing into your clit rubbing at a pace that has you seeing stars, your hands scratch out for looking for anything to hold onto. Yeonjun takes your hand in his keeping the camera facing your reaction as your eyes roll back. Its in the middle of your climax that kai pushes his cock into you, finding a punishing rhythm as he fucks you into the matterss.

“Beg for it,” he growls, hand in your hair twisting in the strands. You can feel him all the way to your throat, stretched out so good, he presses right into your gspot like he was made for you.

“P-please- hyuka i need it- i-” you cant even get the words out anymore, the squeaking of the bed building as he increases his speed. You can hear the wet sounds of the other boys jerking off, “i want your c-cum, i need it,”

“Louder,” yeonjun mutters in front of you, your death grip on his hand not loosening anytime soon.

“I want it! I need your cum, please!” But Huenings is so lost chasing his own high that he drops his hand from your clit to grab your hip, his bruising hold and brutal thrusts making you cry out.

Beomgyu reaches down under you, fingers finding just the right rhythm to send you over the edge at the same time kai cums. His faltering thrusts and throaty moans makes you feel weak. Your cunt is strangling his cock, his release pushed as deep as he could get it into you. When he pulls out you collapse onto the bed, completely used up.

It feels never ending body too tired already when you feel soobin climb into the bed. He lays right behind your exhausted form, both of you on your sides facing yeonjun, “look who's next, do you think you could get another one out of her? I hear you're only a freak in theory and not practice,”

But soobin doesn't take the bait, one hand sliding under you and wrapping around your chest, hand coming up to cup your breast, fingers twisting your hard nipple, and the other lifting your leg to get better access to your leaking cunt. Your thighs are so sticky soobins fingers slip on his hold, having to tighten his grip to make sure he can keep you open. He's been ready since the start, his cock aching as it prods your now puffy swollen cunt, so used you're sure you would be sore for days.

When he sinks in your whimpers are so soft they are hardly heard. Yeonjun is kneeling on the floor, arm holding the camera resting on the bed. He captures the way soobins dick slides in with ease, no resistance now with how much slick is coming out of you. Every drag of soobins cock comes away stained in white. A ring of the combined cum circling the base, balls sticking to your skin with every thrust.

His breathy moans are lost against your neck, pitiful little sounds before he's muttering, “im sorry, oh god- im-”

“Don't you dare cum yet,” yeonjun warns soobin, who pauses his thrusts trying to listen but can't find it in him to restrain. Yeonjuns fingers pinch at your clit, your whole body reacting to the feeling, jolting you back to life as you cum. soobin unable to handle the pressure and is a complete mess, whimpering as he pulls you closer, hugging you as if he could merge bodies.

It took him a while to finally pull out, a much needed break for only a few breaths before yeonjun passes the camera to taehyun to keep the filming going. You can feel the weakness all the way down to your bones, sure if you stand you could collapse to the floor, legs too weak to hold you up. But yeonjun is looking at you like you're being served on a silver platter, all done up with all the best fixings.

“Best for last huh?” he grins climbing over you brushing under your eye to catch a single tear that's fallen from your overstimulation. “Its so fun to see you so dumb on cock, so unlike how we usually see you,”

You hum in response as he pushes your legs open, hands at the back of your knees pushing them to your chest. When he puts them over his shoulders you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks into your wet heat. Bent in half you feel your toes curling, sure that if you came one more time you would be better off sleeping for the next year. “I think this is good practice, don't you?” he asks like you'll respond to him with anything other than a string of muffled whimpers. Your body is coated in a thin layer of sweat, sticking to his skin as he takes a slow pace. It's like he's apologizing, lips peppering across your cheek, down your neck. “We’ll keep you so happy, stuffed full like you deserve. Would you like that?”

You're nodding, eyes closing as he uses you. You don't even notice the way your body is reacting, that slow rise of your next orgasm building up, “i-” you can’t think about cumming again already feeling so dumbed out.

“Hum? Are you going to cum, pretty?” he picks up his pace, sinking his hips and hitting you right against your g spot. Your head rolls back as it washes over you, body tightening until you feel like you’ve combusted into little particles. “Oh look at that, so perfect for me, your pussy feels so good when it's squeezing me like this,” it's all he says before he’s trembling, a guttural moan taking over as he cums, you swear you can feel its warmth spreading throughout you. And when he pulls out he takes the camera back from taehyun focusing it in on the sight of all the combined release staining your folds.

“Look at how she pushes it out,” beomgyu says, mesmerized by the way you look leaking so much cum. But it's Kai who leans down, fingers collecting anything he can before shoving all the cream right back into you. “Its almost like she wants us to fuck it right back in,”

🏷taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 @tomorrowxforever r @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 @cypher-03 @midnight-mochii i @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 @yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae @nessaassen02 @iluvhyukaa @mrsjohnnysuh @wand3rlustm3

thank you so much to @beomiracles @prince-jjae and @thetxtdevil for beta/proofreading the first part of this fic!

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stargirlygirl · 1 month ago

Text

you walk out on him

zayne x fem!reader

⭑.ᐟ part one of my 500 follower special

summary: after months of neglect from your boyfriend, zayne, you walk out on him

contains: angst, hurt no comfort, swearing, 2.6k words

from this poll + pt.2

For the past month, you’ve barely seen Zayne. He’s been waking up at god awful hours and coming home late at night, only to sleep for a few and then do it again the next day. And let’s be real, you’re missing him. A lot.

His good morning kisses pressed against your forehead before the sun rises are not enough to sustain you anymore. Nor are the quick texts he sends you on his break or murmured apologies as he climbs into bed with you.

You can’t take it anymore.

Putting your day off to good use, you bake some muffins. Their yummy scent disperses throughout your apartment, making you sigh as you touch up your lip gloss. After dressing in your shortest mini skirt and fixing your hair, you place a few warm muffins in a container and head down to Akso Hospital.

Rapping on his office door, you hear a quiet “Come in” from the other side.

You push the door open, chirping, “Surprise!”

Zayne gazes up at you before returning his attention to his computer, mumbling, “Hey.” Your mood dampens as the door thunks closed, and you come over to him. Retrieving the muffins from your bag, you set them down on his cluttered desk.

“Look, I baked muffins for you,” you say sweetly. He looks at the muffins and gives you that micro smile.

“Thanks.” You pop the sides and take off the lid; the delicious scent of baked goods fills the air.

You grin, “Do you wanna try them?” You watch him click away on his mouse before typing with fervour.

He murmurs, “Maybe later.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod. Your shoulders slump as you snap the lid back on. He hasn’t invited you to sit down. You glance back and forth between the doctor and the empty chair across from him, mentally screaming at him to just notice your uneasiness.

He doesn’t.

The clacking of his keyboard permeates the silence. You’re waiting for him to ask you how your day has been or comment on how pretty you look. But he just keeps typing away, as if his girlfriend, positively radiant in the afternoon light streaming through the windows, isn’t standing there.

“So,” you start. “Busy day or?”

“Mhmm.” His mouse clicks before he returns to smashing the white keys on his keyboard. The sound it makes begins to get on your nerves. Crossing your arms beneath your chest, you slowly walk around to his side of the desk and lean against it.

Gazing down at him, you say, “Aren’t you going to ask how my day’s been?”

Zayne responds robotically, “How was your day, honey?”

Clack! Clack! Clack!

You’re about to throw his keyboard out the window in your fury.

You bite the insides of your cheeks, mouth twisting as you sigh, “Fine.”

“Good,” he replies, his hazel eyes never leaving his screen. You push off his desk, your heels clicking as you grab your handbag.

“I’ll see you at home, okay?” You huff. He curtly nods, not even glancing up as you walk toward the door and inevitably shut it behind you.

That night, you planned to confront him. But lo and behold, you didn’t see him for the next few days. And when you finally did, it was a quick peck on the cheek as he grabbed the lunch you made him last night out of the fridge and left for work.

What had been a month of barely seeing each other spiralled into months of barely any contact. A few texts here and there. “Sorry, I’m so busy. I’ll be home early so we can chat.” You go to bed at 1am after waiting up for him (he fell asleep on his desk).

You feel like you’re going insane, more angsty than the day before last, every day, as work and poor communication drive a wedge between you two. You miss talking with Zayne. You miss getting brunch together on your off days and cuddling on the couch. You miss the little snow creations he would give to you after you’ve had a hard day at work. And of course, you miss being intimate with him.

After another gruelling day at the Association, you come home to an empty apartment. As always. Frustrated, you hit send on your phone, texting your boyfriend about having a date night. Within minutes, he responds, eager to see you, too. Stripping off your uniform, you two work out the details of your date over text.

This Friday, 7pm, that nice restaurant you’ve been eyeing for a while.

That’s what you repeat to yourself as you take a soothing, hot shower. It’s like a prayer, a chant, a mantra you say to yourself daily in the lead up to your date. You let Jenna know you’re taking the day off in advance; that’s how excited you are.

And finally, it’s Friday!

To start the day off, you sleep in till 11am. You wanna be well-rested for your date, especially since you’re hoping that Zayne will keep you up all night. To pamper yourself, you cook your favourite breakfast and enjoy it while watching your comfort film. Afterwards, you paint your finger and toenails, blowing on the wet coat as Netflix auto-plays the next episode of your current show.

And then somehow, it’s already 5pm?! You have a quick snack before hopping in the shower, exfoliating and then shaving. Drying yourself off, you do your face and body care routines. Next, you get dressed and then apply your makeup, finishing off with your hair.

It’s 6:15pm and Zayne isn’t back yet. You send him a quick text, and your phone pings instantly, saying that he’ll meet you at the restaurant. After drenching yourself in jewellery, you giggle to yourself about whether he’ll still be in his doctor’s coat when you see him. With one last glance in the mirror, you snag your shoulder bag and book it to the door. You make sure to lock up and turn all the lights off before catching the elevator down to your car.

You sigh, relieved that you made it in time, as you catch your breath at the restaurant’s door. Giving the waiter your name, they inform you that you’re the first to arrive. It’s no big deal, really. You brush it off as you’re seated at a cosy little booth toward the back. Low lighting, comfy cushions, and warm jazz overhead. The waiter couldn’t have picked a better spot.

You pull out your phone. 7:05. Okay, no reason to stress.

7:10. Alright, maybe he got stuck in traffic.

7:20. Whoa, the streets must be backed up for miles. Or maybe he got held up at work. You send him a quick message, about to rest your cheek on your palm before you remember that you’re wearing makeup.

7:30. No reply. The waiter asks if you’d like to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu.

7:35. You decide on the scallions for an appetiser and request some table water. Still, nothing from Zayne.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mumble beneath your breath. You text him again. He’s not about to stand you up, is he?

You wait until 8pm, sadly munching on your scallions before ordering dessert. The waiter apologises like it’s their fault your fuck ass boyfriend didn’t show up. You thank them for their kindness.

8:30. You pay the bill (a whopping $84) and leave. Sending one last message to Zayne, you drive home, talking to yourself animatedly about what the fuck just happened and what you’re going to do about it.

Past midnight, you finally hear the jingling of Zayne’s keys as he unlocks the front door. You sit on the couch, your presence only illuminated by a nearby lamp. He pushes the door open; you don’t move. It thuds shut, and he switches on the overhead light.

Seeing the top of your head poking over the back of the couch, Zayne sighs, “There you are.” He comes over to you, setting his bag down on the edge of the couch before sitting down on the coffee table, right in front of you. He grabs your hands, but you shrug him off and avoid his tired gaze.

“Honey,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

You huff, eyes glued to the philodendron in the corner, “It was supposed to be our first date in months, Zayne.”

Turning to face him, you say sternly, “Where were you?”

He replies in that clinical tone, “I had an emergency surgery.” You scoff, shaking your head and looking away. Any other day, you’d be cuddling him and congratulating him on saving another life, but not tonight.

“Of course you did,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“Darling—”

“No, Zayne. I don’t wanna hear it.” You lean back, crossing your arms over your chest as you scrutinise him. Slightly dishevelled locks, like he’s been running his hands through his hair. Dark under eyes. He deserves it. Chapped lips. You hope his throat burns from dehydration.

“Four fucking months, Zayne. That’s how long it’s been since we’ve had a proper conversation. Four months?! Where have you been? “I had an emergency surgery” I don’t fucking care!” You spit out.

He pushes up his glasses, sighing, “Do we have to do this now, love?”

“Am I fuckin’ chore to you?! Is that what this is?!” You ramble. He places his cold hand on your knee, but you push it off.

“Don’t,” you say, seething with venom. You lick your lips, at a loss for words. So many things you’ve been meaning to say to him. So many times you’ve rehearsed this. But facing perfection, you forget. All of your witty comebacks and cutthroat lines dissolve into raw emotion. You can feel the tears clawing at your eyes, hounding to be released.

“Are you l-losing interest in me? Is that it?” You choke out, unable to look at him.

“No,” he remarks without hesitation. “No, I… I’ve been too ambitious, I’m afraid. And in doing so, I’ve neglected the most important person in my life.” The tears spill, streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. Zayne’s fingers twitch, the urge to wipe your eyes and kiss your sorrows better, overpowering. But he disciplines himself.

“I-I don’t—I don’t wa-wanna do this anym-more, Zayne,” you sob, bringing your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around yourself. You lay your forehead against your knees, crying as the weight of these past few months crashes down on you.

“I know. And I’m sorry, darling. I should have realised how much I was hurting you much earlier. I wish you had told me sooner how you felt.” His words only make it worse.

“Told you?!” You cry out, lifting your head to gaze at him with glassy eyes.

“How-how c-could I have-have told you? Y-you didn’t ev-even look at me? In-in your office,” you explain through the shuddering sobs racking your chest. Zayne’s brow creases, unsure of what you’re referring to. You haven’t been in his office for months. Not since you dropped off those delicious muffins and—

Oh.

“How w-was I sup-supposed to t-talk to you?” You ask, trembling. Your lips curl as more tears spew from your eyes. Before he can see you crying all ugly, you dip your head back between your knees.

After a long pause, all he mutters is, “I see.” The sound of your sadness ripples throughout the quiet apartment. Once a home: wafting jasmine, gentle sunlight, and lazy mornings in bed on the weekend. Now, it’s like a cage, keeping you trapped in an unhappy relationship.

“I-I don’t wanna do-do this anymore,” you repeat.

He sighs, “I know. We’ll fix it, honey. I’ll fix this.” You shake your head, pulling back and meeting his mellow gaze once more.

“I-I wanna take a-a break,” you sniffle. His eyes widen, and his body goes rigid. Even you notice through your cloudy vision.

“A break?” He clarifies sternly. You nod, the emotions swelling in your throat becoming too much to bear.

Zayne’s pink tongue darts across his dry lips, wetting them as he sighs, “Look, I know that this has been quite hard for you—”

“For me?! Wh-what? This has-hasn’t been h-hard for you either?” You retort. His brow furrows as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“No. That’s not what I meant. This has been difficult for both of us. But, I don’t think taking a break will solve anything,” he explains. You shake your head as you sniffle. God, your nose is so fucking runny right now it’s embarrassing.

He goes on, “More space will not bring us closer, love.”

You choke out, “B-but I nee-need m-more space to c-come back t-t’you.”

After a moment, Zayne huffs, “Generally, partners take breaks to see other people or to compose themselves before ending the relationship. I know that I’ve hurt you, but I believe that we’re strong enough to move through this. Don’t you agree?” Your sobs intensify tenfold. You curl back into a ball, rocking gently as you grapple with his words.

Are you about to do this? Are you about to break up with your boyfriend? Akso’s most handsome, young, and successful cardiologist. The man you’ve been with for almost two years. The man you love so much it eats away at you when he’s not close.

I guess you are.

Rational thinking has gone out the window as you stand up. Wiping your snotty nose and puffy eyes on your sleeve, you grab the bag you spent the last two hours packing. The one Zayne didn’t even notice sitting close by on the couch.

You murmur, “’M going,” as you head for the door. Panicking, Zayne grabs your wrist. You whirl around, gazing up at him while traitorous tears run down your cheeks.

“Sleep on it. Please,” he mumbles. His thumb caresses your wrist, feeling your rapidly beating pulse. You shake your head and tug your wrist back, but he catches your forearm.

“I love you,” he blurts out. Little whines escape your lips as you stare at him. Oh, how soft his black locks look in the warm light. You want to reach out and mess them up even more, but you stop yourself before you even move.

Your lips tremble as you deliver the finishing blow: “It’s not enough.” Yanking your hand back, you turn around and open the front door. It slams shut behind you. And you don’t even look back until you’re in the elevator.

An empty hallway. The grey doors close.

As you cry in your car for the next half hour, quietening down to text Tara and then bursting back into tears waiting for her reply, Zayne stands there. Right where you left him. In the living room, gazing between the closed door and his hand, the hand that still feels your lingering warmth.

After getting the a-okay from Tara, you pat your eyes dry and breathe deeply before setting off for her place. When you arrive, she invites you in with a warm hug and pats your back knowingly. You two chat into the early hours of the morning, until you eventually clean up and head to bed. Exhausted, you doze off into a dreamless sleep.

Zayne, meanwhile, doesn’t sleep at all. Your words play on loop in his mind, repeating until it drives him up the wall. As he lies in his empty bed, your scent still soaking the sheets, he thinks of all the ways to mend your broken heart.

Because you didn’t officially break up with him, right? You’re just taking a break. Like you wanted to. Like he didn’t want to. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he cuddles your pillow.

masterlist

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love!! this fic is not exactly an original idea, but i wanted to have a crack at it. lmk if you'd like a part two.

here are a couple similar fics:

you try to break up with them (zayne/sylus) by @heartyluv you ask him for a divorce mid-argument by @kaiist

#★’s works #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne li #lads zayne #lnds zayne #zayne angst

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mister0ctopus · 6 months ago

Text

Server Room (1)

series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary: Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Smut (X), Office au, Mini Series

Word Count: 1.5K

Note: I wanted to write more, seems like this is my hyperfocus rn, but I’m sick, you guys. I skipped our company’s year-end party tn, so here I am typing with snot, lol. Hope you enjoy this, please let me know what you think! More to come. 😊

🐙 Masterlist / AskMeeeeee!!!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

The office floor buzzes with the noise of chatter and the clicking of keyboards. Four more hours to go, and you’re free from this torture. Work has been exhausting lately, with everyone scrambling to finish everything before year-end.

You’ve been typing furiously, finishing a report you need to present tomorrow, but when you hit the Enter key, nothing happens…

And as if the world is playing tricks on you, your screen turns blue…

Enter. Esc. asoyjebcvbcjkv.

No! No no no!

You stare at it in disbelief. You worked so hard on this report—there’s no way it didn’t save, right???

You suddenly stand up and rush to one of your friends at work, and your go-to guy in IT, Yoongi.

You open the door to the IT department and let out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down next to Yoongi’s desk. He’s wearing huge headphones and tinkering with a motherboard.

“I need your magical powers right now. You can retrieve my report after this thing died on me, right?” you say, shoving your laptop toward him.

Yoongi looks up at you, eyes wide in surprise.

“Oh… you’re not Yoongi.”

“Oh—uhm…” not-Yoongi stammers, quickly pulling off his headphones, clearly startled by your sudden appearance.

Big, round eyes stare at you for a moment, like a deer in headlights.

After a few seconds, you stand up, gently pulling your laptop away from his face.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were Yoongi. Is he—”

“He’s not here. He’s on PTO for a week. The rest of the team went to check the new equipment coming in. Uh— I’m new here,” he says, almost too quickly, before gulping nervously. “I started last week…” His words trail off abruptly, as if realizing he’s said too much.

“Oh! Right. I forgot about his PTO. Vacation. Yeah. Uhm…” You laugh at yourself, realizing you completely forgot about Yoongi’s vacation. He’s going fishing and camping with Jin, his brother, and wow, that actually sounds amazing. You really need a vacation too, but goddamn it, the report, YN! You really need that report!

“Yes. Report. I really really need your help. I’m YN btw, and you’re…?”

“Jungkook,” he says in a breathy voice.

“Right. Hi, Jungkook. I didn’t realize there was a new guy in IT. So, listen... my laptop just died, and I really need your help retrieving a report I’ve been working on for days. I’d be so grateful... please?” you smiled sweetly as you subtly leaned in, because lord, you’re desperate and running out of time.

He nods quietly and places your laptop on his desk. He inspects the device and types a few keys. After a few seconds, still without looking at you, he says, “I need to run some tests. It may take a while…”

“How long exactly?” You nervously bite your lip. There’s no way this report can’t be retrieved. You have no backup, obviously relying on the laptop to save everything.

“Maybe... tomorrow? I—I’ll try to fix it,” Jungkook stammers, his cheeks slightly pink as he types a few commands.

“No!” You cut him off a little too quickly, then softened your tone to control the panic rising in your chest. “I have a presentation first thing tomorrow, and I need it today. Tonight, at the latest.”

He still doesn’t look at you, focusing on the device.

“I’ll try my best. You can come back later before you go home.” That’s all he says before turning his chair away from you.

You were about to further insist on the urgency of this matter, but you don’t want to push him more. You’re at the mercy of this guy, and he’s the only one who can help you right now.

You nod, trying to keep your frustration in check. "Okay, I’ll be back before 5 pm." you say, giving him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Jungkook. I appreciate it.”

He simply nods back, still not making eye contact as he focuses on the device.

You leave the IT department, your mind racing as you think about how to explain to your boss if the report can’t be recovered.

4:07pm

You glanced at the clock for the eleventh time since leaving the IT room, your anxiety growing with each passing minute. You couldn’t wait any longer to find out if the laptop was fixed, so you decided to head back to the IT room, only to find it empty.

“Jungkook?” you call softly.

The room is small, with only four desks, so it’s easy to tell that no one is there—no one except for you.

You turn to leave when your eyes catch another door with a sign that reads “Server Room.”

Jungkook must be in there, so you approach the door and push it open. But just as soon as you step inside, you hear angry grunts and heavy breathing, as if someone is straining.

A sense of panic rushes over you, as though you’re not supposed to be here—should you be here?

You freeze, unsure of what to do next, but then you notice movement behind one of the racks directly in front of you. Colorful inked hand moves erratically, tugging at something angrily.

Up, down, forward, backward...

You hear the grunts shift into groans, and the heavy breathing turns into soft whines.

You hear slick, wet sounds and the pounding of your own heart. You know you’re not supposed to be looking, yet you can’t tear your eyes away.

Your eyes shift from his busy hands to his strained face, where you notice Jungkook biting his lip to stifle more sound from eliciting, his lip ring catching the light on his every movement, and you feel wetness soil you in your center, so you press your thighs together to try and soothe it.

You close your eyes because god why is this so wrong, and so fucking hot?

And you clench your cunt around nothing as you hear him call your name in the most strained voice, almost sounding like a plea.

“Fuck… YN, oh god of god oh goddd!” he whined, movements quicker now.

Your face goes numb with shock from the vulgarity, and you struggle to steady your breath as you quietly storm out of the server room, praying he didn’t notice you at all.

You hurriedly walk back to your desk, a wave of shame washing over you for what you saw and what you're feeling, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and need.

You fix your already neat hair, hoping no one notices the chaos you're feeling, but what you don’t realize is that Jungkook saw you leave the room, and that made him cum harder as he imagined his firm hands being your soft and wet hole instead.

Still shaken from the incident, you finally gather yourself at exactly 5 PM and make your way back to the IT room. Desperation fuels your steps—there’s no way you can let what you saw, and the way it made you feel, stop you from retrieving your laptop.

As you step inside the room, expecting a dismissive Jungkook to greet you, you instead collide with something solid—a chest.

Jungkook’s chest.

Visuals of him from a few minutes ago flash through your mind, and you let out a small gasp. He is smirking, but his expression remains unreadable—a stark contrast to the shy and aloof Jungkook you had initially met.

"I fixed it. Your data is all there. I also made sure you're logged into the reporting CRM, so your presentation pulls real-time data via API. Basically—you have a backup," he said matter-of-factly, his tone professional—but his eyes are anything but.

He handed you the device, and you hesitantly took it, still processing everything.

With a sigh of relief, you offered him a sweet smile, your voice soft as you thanked him. "Thank you, Jungkook. You saved my life. I owe you," you murmured, though your mind was still racing, unable to shake the earlier scene.

He nodded and remained quiet, simply watching you with a sly grin on his lips, his expression still unreadable.

The tension was unbearable. Unable to take it any longer, you quickly mumbled another "thanks" and made your exit.

When you finally reached home, exhaustion settled in, but relief quickly followed. You’d been running on adrenaline all day, but now that it was done, you could finally breathe. The changes Jungkook made were a game-changer—it fed you real-time data seamlessly, saving you hours of work.

After adding the final touches to your presentation for tomorrow, you got ready for bed. You couldn’t help but feel a mix of gratitude and awe as you closed your laptop for the night.

But your mind betrayed you—thoughts of Jungkook still lingered in your brain, refusing to let you rest.

His tattooed arm around his hardness…

The way his chest heaves…

The way he was beating his dick for you…

The way he sounded, his groans, his moans…

How the slick and wet noise filled the air…

How he looked so angry biting his lips, brows furrowed in frustration…

His dark hair stuck to his damp forehead…

The lip piercing that you were sure would feel cold against your warm folds…

You touch yourself with desperate need, pumping two fingers inside as your other hand circles your clit.

You yell his name over and over, as you buck your hips, feeling your release drench you further. Then you drift into slumber in soiled underwear and a sweet sweet smile, knowing you’ll see him again tomorrow.

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unhakies · 19 days ago

Note

Okay hear me out college au taesan who goes to school for music and gets partnered of with reader to make their own song. Like he’s a little shy and introverted but then sees readers passion for music that he falls for her and it like he’s continuously only able to come of with lyrics for a love song as they get to know other more. He tries to hide it but seeing someone LVOE music like him gets him down bad and there’s a huge confession from being jealous but it’s like poetic and just cutsey

Omg sorry this is so much:’)

between the lines. k. woonhak

pairing: musicmajor!taesan x musicmajor!reader

genre: oneshot, romance

wordcount: 1.705k

notes — nothing is ever too much this is so cute i hope its what you wanted🥹💗

taesan didnt do well with group projects. he liked quiet, and group work was the opposite.

so when he heard this project worth most if his mark was a group project, being mad would be an understatement.

the professor clapped his hands, gaining the attention of the students who chatted excitedly. "this final project will be a composition between you and your partner. pairing are on the screen. also, you get extra marks if you preform the song at the end of the year festival."

you blinked at the screen then looked around, han dongmin, who didn't know him? he was known for his amazing composing skills.

you walked towards him after finding him through the chaos of the class. "han dongmin right? im name." you gave a smile and a small nod.

"right, it's nice to meet you."

you met in the music room the next day. taesan brought his guitar, and you brought your mini keyboard.

"so what vibe are we thinking" you asked, glancing at him. "mh, i'm not sure. i tend to give for more mellow vibes."

"let's find a middle. we can find something together." you smiled.

we. he liked the sound of that

he strummed random strings, trying to find the right melody. "wait! play that again." you looked up with stars in your eyes. he raised an eyebrow but nevertheless played it.

you clapped like you win the lottery and write something down and then hummed a melody, whispered some lyrics, and thats when taesan knew it,

he was done for.

a few weeks later, taesan was stumped. the project was going good—great if anything. but he kept writing lines, and they started to look familiar, like they were about you.

"i met a girl with stars behind her eyes she sings like she’s chasing the sky and i can’t write a song that doesn’t sound like loving her"

he couldn’t use them. obviously.

but every time you laughed over a dumb harmony or leaned in to fix his timing, he felt another lyric bloom in his chest.

you weren’t even doing anything. you were just.. being passionate. earnest. alive with music.

and taesan was absolutely, totally down bad.

taesan wasnt the jealous type. if anything, seeing other people get stuff is motivation for him to keep pushing.

but today was different. but it started like any other;

you sprawled on the floor, notebook hovering over your face as your tongue poked out of your mouth in focus

he smiled before you even saw him.

“morning,” you chirped. “i brought snacks.”

he sat beside you, accepted a pouch of dried mango you offered, and began tuning his guitar while you rambled about tempo and bridge transitions.

you both knew the demo deadline was coming up. but still, there was no rush. you liked to linger.

until the knock.

the door swung open mid-harmony. taesan’s fingers stilled on the strings.

“hey,” said minho, leaning against the frame like he owned the building. “heard you were in here, name”

you brightened. “hey! what are you doing on this floor?”

“jazz room got booked, thought i’d come snoop. that song you played last showcase, it was sick. you working on something new?”

“actually, yeah. this duet project with taesan,” you said, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

minho glanced over, boredly, and nodded once. “cool. you guys sound good.”

taesan managed a small, polite smile.

“wanna hang sometime?” minhi added. “i've got this beat that i need help on.”

you laughed, warm and casual. “sure, i'm down. text me?”

“bet.”

and just as quick as he came, he was gone, but the air didn’t go back to normal.

not for taesan.

he strummed a few bars quietly, but his thoughts were racing ahead of his fingers.

he knew it was stupid.

he knew you weren’t his. that you could hang out with anyone. that minho wasn’t doing anything wrong.

but something about the way your smile lingered. the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you said “text me” like it was nothing.

taesan wasn’t used to jealousy. it didn’t sit neatly inside him. it scratched.

“you okay?” you asked after a few minutes, when he missed a beat for the third time.

“yeah.”

“you’re playing faster.”

he paused. “sorry.” you tilted your head. “wanna take a break?”

“no,” he said too quickly. “i’m fine.”

but you weren’t convinced. you set your laptop down, fully turned toward him.

“did i do something?”

taesan’s head snapped up. “what? no, why would you think that?”

“you’re… closed off today.” your voice was quiet. he winced. “It’s not you.” you were silent for a beat. then you said, gently, “then what is it?”

he hated how visible he must’ve looked, but he couldn’t lie, either, not when you asked like that.

"it's stupid." he shrugged it off. "dongmin, nothing is ever stupid, trust me." you spoke, putting a hand over his.

he sighed and spoke, almost too softly “sometimes i think i care more than i’m supposed to.”

You blinked. “about the project?”

“no,” he said, “i don’t know how to explain it. i hear your voice in my sleep. i see your lyrics in my head before i fall asleep. and every time you talk about music like it’s your first love, I just, I want to be part of that. not because of the project. not even because of the music.”

you were staring now. carefully, like he was a puzzle unraveling right in front of you.

taesan looked down, thumb tapping anxiously on his guitar’s body.

“i guess it messed me up a little,” he muttered, “hearing you say yes to minho. like your writing just belonged anywhere. like, it didn’t mean anything special here.”

the silence that followed was weighted, heavy with realization.

you stood up, walked over, and sat down beside him.

“i said yes because i like music,” you said. “but i never said i liked writing with him. when I write with you,” you said, “it feels like the song already knows us.”

and taesan, he didn’t say anything.

he just nodded. held your words in his chest like the ending of a song he hadn’t dared to write yet.

and this time, when he played the next chord it rang clear

"also, call me taesan, okay?" you smiled brightly and nodded at him.

the campus had never looked like this before.

string lights draped across trees. a makeshift stage stood at the far end of the lawn, speakers crackling with nervous energy.

seniors milled around in denim jackets and club hoodies, eyes lit with relief and bittersweet excitement.

you stood behind the curtain with taesan, nerves curling inside your stomach.

the two of you were up next. your original duet. final project. last performance of the year.

and somehow, your last moment to say everything that had been left unsaid.

“you okay?” you asked quietly, adjusting your mic.

taesan nodded, then stopped. “kind of.”

you smiled. “same.”

but then you noticed him looking past you.

you turned, and saw minho, standing off to the side near the sound table, chatting with some other jazz majors.

his eyes flicked briefly to you, and he sent you a casual thumbs-up.

you returned a polite smile. it wasn’t a big deal.

but when you looked back, taesan was already turning away.

you reached out before you could stop yourself, your fingers brushing his sleeve.

“hey.”

he looked at you. something in his eyes felt a little further away than usual.

you lowered your voice. “you're going quiet again."

“i'm fine.”

“that's not what I asked.”

he hesitated.

“do you think i'm forgettable?” you blinked "what?”

“in a room like this,” he continued, gesturing at the stage, the crowd, the buzz of competition, “with everyone chasing the next big thing, do you think i'd stand out to you if we hadn’t been paired up?”

you stared at him. “taesan…” but the emcee called your names. you swallowed the lump in your throat and you stepped onstage together.

the lights were warm.

the lawn had gone still.

and when the intro chords began, the ones you’d spent weeks layering, reworking, shaping like clay, taesan kept his eyes down.

you sang the first verse.

and when he joined you in harmony, it felt different.

like he wasn’t singing with you anymore. like he was singing to you.

then the bridge came.

the part that was never in the original. the part he added at the very last minute. he hadn’t shown you the new lyrics. he just said “trust me.”

and now, in front of everyone, his voice broke the quiet:

“i wrote you in metaphors and hid you in rhymes but no lyric fits right if you’re not between the lines”

you froze, but continued to play the keys.

“you were a chorus before i could name you a melody i was too scared to keep but i memorized your voice like scripture and dreamt of you in every beat.”

you turned to him, fully now.

he looked at you finally and everything that had been simmering for the past few months poured out through his eyes.

“this song was always about you.”

gasps echoed in the audience. but all you could hear was your own heartbeat.

he walked towards you, the background music playing and you stared at him.

and before either of you could overthink it, you closed the space between you and kissed him.

right there on stage. amid the applause, the lights, and the hum of your shared harmony still echoing in the air.

after the stage cleared and the festival turned to night, you and taesan sat beneath one of the trees with his guitar resting between you.

“i cant believe you really rewrote the bridge and didn’t show me,” you teased.

“i was hoping u wouldn’t chicken out,” he said. “i almost did.”

you leaned on his shoulder. “it was the best line you’ve ever written.”

“i meant every word.”

“i know.”

and in the distance, crowds chatting loudly amongst themselves, but it was just noise now.

because the noise that mattered was still playing, quiet and finished , in both your hearts.

regular customers; @sh0dor1 @c1eod1n3

bonedo regulars; @beomev @8makes1atom @prodkwh @woonhakntaesansgf @raccooninii @woonbabie @lvlyhiyyih

#unhakies #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor taesan #bnd taesan #taesan x reader #taesan #bnd fluff #bnd oneshot #kpop oneshots #kpop x reader

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megapteraurelia · 30 days ago

Text

tldr; — kenma x you | hq

SUMMARY; they said long distance relationships are hard, but kenma had always made you feel like it was easy. WARNINGS; long distance relationships; fluff; angst; mention of fps games (bleh!!) WORD COUNT; 1017.

kenma. — then.

the sound of gunfire echoed through kenma's headset. last player standing. it was 1v3, definitely doable. his heart wasn't racing, but his concentration was sharp, his fingers sharper as they danced across his keyboard.

"he's on B," someone whispered, voice so quiet as to not disturb his focus, but kenma thought it was unnecessary. it was a good comm; there was no need to be so scared. he exhaled through his nose, pinky pressing down on the shift-button until the last second before he turned the corner to peek—

his phone buzzed.

it sat on the edge of his desk, screen lighting up with a name that had his hands grow sweaty and his heart to stutter.

heyy. are you busy?

he glanced down, eyes flitting to the screen, then back to the game, then to the screen again.

a message. from you. he should probably wait until after the round to text you, after the tension had faded, after the game was over. his teammates were still calling out anything they saw on the mini map, any util that sounded out in the distance, but they felt distant.

the words on the screen were so simple, but his heart thudded strong in his chest. he didn't know what it was about you, but you made everything quieter, softer, more real and more rooted in this real life that he often times always wanted to escape. he felt the weight of his fingers on the mouse. he should just win the game, he thought. but when it came to you, he always felt like he had to be different. like he had to do more, something he wasn't sure how to do, but that gnawed at him until—

kenma reached for his phone with one hand, the other still on his mouse. quickly with a dry throat, before he could second-guess it, he typed back.

playing. but not too busy

a flash. gunfire.

he died instantly.

"DUDE, what the hell?" someone groaned into kenma's ear, frustration thick in his voice, "you threw that."

kenma didn't respond to his teammate. instead, he muted his teammates, his own microphone, and leaned back in his chair to stare at the message thread, breath shallow. he stared and waited for the three dots to appear, waited for his heart to do the tell-tale sign of skipping a thousand beats.

he sent another message, because he thought he may lose his courage if he didn't.

though i actually died to respond mid-match

his leg was whipping up and down impatiently, time not moving fast enough, his pulse quickening in the way it always did when it came to you, like he was standing too close to the edge of something he wasn't sure he could handle. something that wasn't a game.

when your response came through finally, his ears flushed deeply, quiet settling in his room.

you died for me? that's kind of romantic, ken

a moment later:

don't make it weird. (but yeah)

kenma. — now.

the call had been silent for a while now. he sat with his headphones still on, listening to the soft ambient hum of your room through the microphone; the sounds barely there. no laughter, no soft talking, no you. just the vague, distant rustle that indicated there was somebody existing on the other side.

he thought the silence settled like dust around him, and then you spoke, your voice tinged with the kind of exhaustion that went beyond the physical.

"are you tired?"

he was slow in his reply, even though it was only one word, "yeah."

"i can go. if you want."

even slower. "okay."

the call ended. kenma thought he should have said something; anything that could be considered a proper goodbye, but he didn't. he couldn't.

he knew he was being an idiot. an asshole. the type of person he thought he couldn't be, yet even as he let the distance grow, he couldn't force himself to admit it.

you were still here. he could feel you, somewhere, waiting for his reply, waiting for him to be there, waiting and hoping. he didn't know why you still were, he didn't know why you still waited. he wished you didn't.

his thumb hovered over his phone, the chat window still open in front of him. there were your messages, and they weren't lots. just small, three-worded sentences, yet they ate at him with their sharp teeth.

are you busy? i miss you

kenma had wanted to ignore you. he also had wanted to reply. had wanted to tell you that he missed you, too. but he couldn't get the words past his lips, couldn't say them when they felt so wrong and so hollow, like they wouldn't reach you in the way they used to.

he typed something, and deleted it again.

you deserved better, he thought. he thought you did when he woke up and saw the good morning message on his phone, he thought you did when he went a whole day without texting or calling you and didn't even notice until you were the one who caved in and always texted first, he thought you did every time the call ended and every time the silence stretched between you. every time he didn't know what to say.

his fingers had moved again, tapping out the words.

kinda playing. but not too busy

when the reply came back, he felt the weight of it more than he should have.

okay.

that was it. nothing more. just this one word digging deeply in between his ribs right in his chest. he could hear the emptiness in that word, could feel it in the way your texts weren't coming like they used to. not with the same frequency, not with the same warmth.

he wished he could pull you back, but the truth was that when he opened his hands, they were empty. he had nothing to offer anymore, nothing to give.

i'm sorry, he thought to nobody but his own useless self. he couldn't even type these words.

instead, he logged off.

TAGLIST | @takes1 @classicalelephant @pomigranit

#haikyuu #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma #kenma angst #kenma fluff #haikyuu kenma #kozume kenma #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq #hq x reader #hq x you #jelly writes

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apocalypse-shuffle · 3 months ago

Text

BRUCE BANNER & THE HULK (mcu)

—

How Bruce / Hulk reacts to being given a Hulk plush (Bruce Banner x Fem!Reader) and (Hulk & Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

SFW, established relationship, fluff, crack treated seriously, hints at canon divergence

Picture source: Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015)

2k+ words (some of which are from one Spurt - or mini fic - w/ Bruce and another w/ Hulk)

BRUCE BANNER

Bruce stares at you like you’re insane when you come up to him brandishing the plushie Hulk like a trophy.

Of course a second later he fixes his face to smile at you in greeting, even with his hair fluffier than usual from him having been running his hands through it so much and his smile tinged with fatigue, but his initial opinion of the plush itself still doesn’t actually improve.

For your part you remain unphased, making sure he’s not handling anything sensitive as you study the little Hulk in your hands some more before slipping behind his desk and shaking it at Bruce with a proclamation of: “It’s you!”

Bruce laughs at your antics despite the way both his brows have started furrowing, and finally reaches out for the plush.

❤︎

“And people, what? They buy these?”

“They did,” you shrug, you’re not going to sugarcoat it for Bruce. He’s likely to go looking for the distributor on his own time anyway.

Bruce goes quiet then, but it’s the type of silence from him that only half worries you. He was thinking, certainly, but not in a way that would make him spiral. At least not immediately.

“Right,” Bruce hums. He turns the little green plush over in his hands — both having come off his keyboard where he was inputting notes into his computer the moment you walked into his office. “No parent wants their child playing with a toy modeled after a proverbial natural disaster on legs, huh?”

He cracks a small lopsided grin at that, scoffing to himself. You give him a long look in response and Bruce only offers a shrug, ducking his head and reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck for a moment.

Your lips purse.

“I didn’t say that, B.”

He nods, “It’s the truth though, Y/n, I’m well aware of that.” The scientist stands from his stool, leaving the plush beside his keyboard, moving closer to you and wrapping you up in his arms. Softly, he nudges his nose with your broader one and you smile. “Plus, you’re far nicer than me. Of course you wouldn’t have said that.”

The soft, pale inside of his palm presses to your darker skin as he brings up his hand to cup over your cheek. Before you let yourself lean into his touch you give him a measured look, eyes narrowed, but Bruce doesn’t budge despite the apologetic look he’s giving you.

“Goddamnit, Bruce,” you grumble, giving into his touch after pressing a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

The corners of Bruce’s eyes crinkle. He snorts.

“For what it’s worth it’s actually pretty cute,” he looks over the Hulk plushie with a more critical eye before shrugging, “even if it’s likeness is off.”

You heave a sigh.

“It’s too cute,” you guess.

Bruce nods.

“It’s way too cute,” he confirms, the arm he still has around your waist squeezing playfully at you.

Laughing, you shake your head at him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pressing a quick peck of a kiss to his lips.

The hand he had on your face drops from your dewy skin to join the other around your waist like a moth drawn to flame, and you grin as he shifts fast to kiss you back, his grip on you tightening.

You put a finger over his lips to keep him from chasing your mouth for more, staring at him with lidded eyes and a sly curve to your lips.

“I feel it pertinent to remind you that Hulk and you share a face, Honey.” Bruce’s eyes widen and he looks about two seconds away from pressing a hand to his chest and acting wounded. “And,” you say before he can take his hands off you, “that I happen to think you’re both plenty cute. In my humble opinion that is.”

“Oh in your ‘humble’ opinion? Is that what we’re calling it?” Bruce snorts again, but when he kisses you next it’s sweeter than it needs to be.

❤︎

Overall, Bruce doesn’t hate the plush toy, which is nice, he just doesn’t particularly care for it. Though he does raise an amused brow once he tracks down the small Brazilian factory that used to make the plushies, a small fond smile curling his lips.

In general his relationship with Hulk is a lot better than it’s been even before everything with Wanda, but post The Avengers forming (hell, after having helped create Ultron with Tony his relationship with himself is the best it’s been since), so he isn’t disgusted like he once would’ve been by the prospect of a company making Hulk plushies.

The Hulk protected him on Sakaar (even if he did a lot of other things Bruce likes less too), and saved his life during The Battle of Wakanda. Bruce could give the Big Guy his props now. Especially after he himself got to kick ass in the HulkBuster, but could still admit to himself that fighting droves of bad guys wasn’t the type of challenge he particularly enjoyed.

Bruce largely disregards the plush after your initial conversation about it. Forgets about the thing, really. When he finds you one night — after he’s been away with the team for a few days on a particularly grueling mission — curled up on the couch with the plush against your chest and your arms wrapped tight around it he finds a kind of fondness for the little Hulk, though.

Cuddling with the plush like that you cut both the most adorable and the most heartbreakingly sweet figure he’s ever seen.

When Bruce scoops you up to carry you off to y’all’s shared bedroom it’s with a small groan (Hulk’s been in charge for the better part of 72 hours, his body was all bruise and still in the process of completely healing from the prolonged transformation, his ass is exhausted), but it’s completely worth it to feel the brush of your soft kinky hair over his cheek and to have you subconsciously curl into him — Hulk plush still held tightly and smushed between both of your bodies — in your sleep.

By the time you’re both in bed you’ve started to stir awake and give him the ‘welcome home’ he always looks forward to, insistent arms locked tight around his shoulders in a hug as he squeezes you flush to him from around your waist. He still makes sure the Hulk plush doesn’t tumble to the floor in your excitement though, handing it back to you and watching with fond russet eyes as you curl up with it again while he spoons you from behind and presses sweet, longing kisses into the brown expanse of your skin.

THE HULK

Hulk is borderline insulted at first until you explain what it is.

When you first come up to him brandishing his plush lookalike you’re not expecting him to both simultaneously respond like you’re about to burn him in effigy and as if you’re betraying him by trying to replace his big green ass with a plushie, of all things, but you suppose that with his reputation and general possessiveness towards you that you should’ve expected his reaction on both accounts.

After a quick explanation, and a pat of your tiny hand over his giant one in reassurance, you’re good to go though.

Once Hulk’s certain you're not trying to replace him or hurt and piss him off, though….

…Hulk immediately hits you with a “But…people hate Hulk,” and you're so caught off guard that you just blink up at him for a few silent moments.

Hulk has your mind going haywire as you think of an answer for him — vetoing “not everyone,” as an acceptable response almost immediately at the impatient grumble he lets out at you taking so long to answer.

Hulk hears your eventual answer of: “Some people still do, yeah, but a few people definitely don’t. I don’t,” and deflates.

The Big Guy slumps forward, resting his elbow onto his thigh where he’s sitting criss-cross in front of you, so he can prop his head up with his fist as he effectively pouts. You feel horrible that you can’t give him any other answer, but that was the truth and you wouldn’t lie to him; especially when you’d be so easily disproved if the Big Guy actually showed his face anywhere.

Hulk’s public perception wasn’t completely in the gutter, with a ton of work and a good deal of care it could be salvaged some, but he definitely wasn’t trusted by the majority of the public anymore (and the trust he and Bruce did have before the incident in South Africa had been faint at best even back in the day).

❤︎

“Fine.” Hulk gives a great big huff that makes your lips quirk. “Hulk look.” He holds out his hand, and you promptly rise on the tips of your toes to place the Hulk plushie delicately in his palm.

Plush now in his free hand; he doesn’t actually move it from where you placed it, just moves his hand this way and that and gives the toy a grave amount of inspection.

“Hulk never wore purple,” he grunts after a few moments, and you laugh.

Hulk wasn’t exactly wrong though. Bruce certainly wore a lot of purple, it was his favorite color after all, but Hulk didn’t touch the color if he could help it outside of the short block of purple that lined the top sides of his uniform pants.

Hulk’s completely unphased when you lean over his thigh opposite from where he’s propping his head up so you can inspect the plush with him. Even drops his hand enough for you to be able to see it at eye level.

After a few of your own silent seconds you nod and solemnly agree that you’ve never actually seen him wear full-on purple, yes, but guess that the color is for color theory purposes as the plush was made for children and would need appealing color coding to match.

“That’s dumb,” Hulk grunts, but he leaves it at that.

He goes right back to staring at the thing in silence again and you’re perfectly content to let him, humming softly and letting yourself rest your upper body over his muscled thigh.

Hulk runs hot so you won’t stay pressed to him for too long (unless it’s cold, then you’re stuck to him like glue) but his jade skin is surprisingly soft for such a force of nature and he’s never once objected to you climbing all over him.

❤︎

Eventually you reach up to take the plush back (mostly bcs Hulk’s had enough of it and is twisting his hand sideways, so if you don’t take it, it’ll fall) and keep talking lightly with Hulk about Avengers shit and whatnot. Absentmindedly, though, you take to running your thumbs softly over the plush’s head area or through its short tufts of fake black “hair”, self soothing with the feel of the plush.

Hulk notices. Hell, Hulk points it out to you.

❤︎

“Y/n not touch Hulk like that.”

A blink.

Freezing, you pause to look down at your fidgeting hands and the soft colorful fabric beneath the pads of your fingers. Your brows furrow.

Another blink— still from you.

Only after a few more beats of silence — only broken by a grumble from the Big Guy as he shifts restlessly — do you look up and turn your blank stare onto Hulk.

Hulk, whose lips are downturned into a frown and who's also watching you like he’s half expecting you to catch a whole conniption over his words.

What you finally, eloquently, settle on saying is: “What?”

❤︎

And that’s how you end up finding out Hulk likes when you run your nails along his scalp as hard as you can (he’s got some tough ass skin, there’s no other way; and if you wear acrylics or gels they’re gonna need to be strong) and when you run gentle hands over his face. Likes it so much he falls asleep, in fact.

It’s also how you end up with literal tons worth of jade green giant lying flat on his back with his head inches away from your lap while you sit criss-cross on the plush carpet behind him with your back leant against his shoulder and hands working overtime as you essentially pet him.

Call him “handsome” while you brush his hair behind his ears and he’ll crack an eye open to drop large eyes down to look at you then grin hard enough to have you cracking up. Press kisses all over his giant cheeks and forehead and over his closed eyelids and he’ll be eating out of your palm for a week— this shit is dangerous.

Overall, after any misunderstandings have been corrected, he’s more readily forgiving of the plush than Bruce, but that’s mostly because he has the benefit of feeling flattered that you’re so eagerly snuggling with a green plushie made in his likeness even as you’re curled up by his side.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!!

Bonus scrapped scene: “Hulk not grey either” “I know, Big Guy, but copyright. The distributors probably didn’t want to get sued for using your likeness.” “Still not grey,” he grumbles, expression turning mulish and petulant. You pat him on the arm in solidarity.

I am in a fucking mood I can’t help myself, the Bruce/Hulk stuff just keeps coming.

So, yeah, I went for the alternate version of Endgame (ie: one of the deleted Hulk/Bruce scenes) and changed the story a bit so that I don’t have to deal with MCU “Smart Hulk” and so that I could have Hulk smash from the HulkBuster armor after Bruce and his back and forth where they come to an understanding (also a deleted scene), but instead of kind of erasing Hulk I’m just making it so now he and Bruce have come to an equilibrium together. I’ve also technically retconned the fuck out of Ragnarok, but I don’t go into that here.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Bonus(+)Banner —

—

Also, honestly, it bothers me (to a fictional extent) that Wanda never had to own up to or make up for what she did to Bruce and her making the conscious decision to set the Hulk off in that area of South Africa bcs she was irritated and as a distraction. We know that once Bruce came back to earth and did that ridiculous “Smart Hulk” thing that he had to rebuild his image and public perception of him and that even by She-Hulk: Attorney at Law it’s not stable enough for him to just be around the regular public as a Hulk. Even when in Endgame we see that he’s regained trust and has some amount of celebrity, his position on earth is still clearly tentative. And that’s despite being a big factor in helping save the world.

Bruce had to build himself out of that hole that Wanda dug for him and whatever legal mess and guilt that would’ve naturally followed, Hulk had to sit with that guilt and that confusion (you can see the emotions on his face right before Tony — using Veronica — knocks him out and he’s the one who leaves on the quinjet) then was subsequently erased by the narrative because the writers didn’t want to actually write a Hulk redemption arc, and Wanda got off completely scot free without having to make up for or let herself be rightfully prosecuted for destroying those South Africans’ lives, because the Hulk might not have murdered anyone but Hulk’s rampage (by its very nature) is tantamount to an impromptu natural disaster having torn through that city. A city that Wanda purposely targeted because she was mad at one man, and an infraction that she never made up for or is even seriously mentioned after AOU.

—

Bonus(+)Pic —

323 notes · View notes

notapradagurl7 · 5 months ago

Text

Ties That Bind. Part One.

Terry RichmondBillionaire! x Black Fem! Plus Size/Reader.

Summary: On your boring day at work, you were reunited with the former Marine-turned-billionaire Terry Richmond the man you tutored in college, but he wasn't there for a meeting or investment but for a marriage proposal, to you. Little did you know there was more to him than you imagined.

Word Count: 3,292k

( Masterlist )

Warnings: 18+ smut, fluff, dark!Terry, MDNI!, arranged marriage, mention of burnout, stubborn reader, quick wedding, jealousy, Use of AAVE, consensual for both parties, mention of depression, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, confession, violence, mention of a drunk man, mention of cutting family ties,

A/N: I want to do more mini-series for Terry instead of fics, hope enjoy this one! I'm so excited Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, or you can always ask for a request Enjoy! ❤️(NOT inspired by fifty shades of gray)

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @babybratzmaraj @becauseimswagman1

@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz @uniqueoutlierblog

@dxddykenn @dpennedit @secretlifeoofmarpessa

@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert @aquarising03

@5starr-staciii @pickuptruck01 @lady-olive-oil @23jammy @zillasvilla @yassbishimvintage

——————-

Your fingers tapped across the keyboard with your dark brown eyes glued to the computer screen, you sighed lowly with pure annoyance and couldn’t wait for this day to be over, your alarm on your phone buzzed twice for your lunch break. You stood up from your desk chair in the cubicle with your work besties, Kiana and Juno.

Kiana had a bright smile, her curly hair bouncing as she stood up. "Girl, you look like you need a day off. How about we hit that new café down the street?"

Juno chuckled, adjusting her glasses. "Or a happy hour. I vote for margaritas."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. "You two know I can’t just leave work like that. I have deadlines, remember?"

Kiana waved a dismissive hand. "Deadlines are overrated. You’re seriously burnt out, and we both can see it. Just take a break!"

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from your mom, asking you to join her for a family reunion on Saturday.

But you had to decline since work was keeping you busy, when in reality you didn't want to see them right now, they would always ask if you had a man to catch or a husband yet.

It was so damn annoying.

"Ugh, fine. I will take a break, I’ll just be a responsible adult," you sighed, heading towards the door.

Grabbing your pink lunch bag, and stepped out with ease. You waved at the beautiful black women with their dress clothes and matching heels that clicked on their marble tile floors. They gave you hugs and smiles, delighted to see your face.

“Hey beautiful, you good?” Juno asked gently, her eyes on you.

“Eh, same day, same cubicle Juju. I’ve been okay, still standing, how about y'all?” You explained with a shoulder shrug.

“I’ve been alright, my cat had been going number 2 in the litterbox, its so fucking gross, but I love my baby Lilo” Kiana exclaimed with a lip pout.

“Already, has your cat been checked for that? I've been good lately,” Juno asked with her brow raising.

“Yes, but the doctor said everything is normal, but my cat is fine,”

The three of you have close since high school and college, kept in touch and ended up at same job, you typed and typed documents for your strict boss Kim. She was a bitch, and always said you did everything wrong. It was taking toll on your mental health, you endured travail to get where you needed to be.

But you needed more than a vacation from this workplace, maybe you thought your life was getting dull, no it wasn't you had a decent job, bitchy boss, money and great friends that loved and supported you.

Everyone had a different life and the same kind of life like yours, you're weren't alone.

Entering the roomy break room adorned with beige walls and the aroma of microwaved food, the three of you settled around the circular dark gray table to enjoy your lunch.

Thanking God in the depths of your mind that you’ve gotten a break from the mundane madness.

“I need to go on vacation,” You blurted out, your face resting in your palm.

“How about we all go on vacation? Our how about Brazil?” Kiana exclamined with her hands spread out.

The three of you laughed it off with shared stories and smiles, it was giving young some peace.

Until you heard that familiar deep voice of his, you rested your finger against your lips and listened carefully, “Wait, do y'all hear that?” you whispered to them.

“I-I’m s-sorry Mr. Richmond but what brings you here,” Leigh stuttered nervously.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry to arrive here unannounced and without an appointment but I’m here to speak with one of your assistants,” Terry spoke cordially, his hands in front of him gently grabbing on his wrist.

You, Juno and Kiana peeked out of the break room door, your eyes widening at the striking sight before you. Terry was dressed in a black suit with the tie neatly tucked, speaking to your boss, Leigh.

Leigh stood there in awe by Terry, her mouth parted but no words came out, she could tell that he was a billionaire too.

She agreed to his inquiry, gesturing toward the conference room where he was to take a seat; Leigh eagerly flattered any affluent individual who could enhance her image.

Her brown skin glowed under the white fluorescent lights, and she wore a V-neck black dress with coordinating heels, while her blonde curls danced at her shoulders.

“Yes, who would you like to? Are you here for an investment or meeting?” Leigh asked him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh shit, it’s Terry from college! He still is fine as hell too, I remember him, he’s giving me this vibe, like silent but deadly,” Juno trailed off, smirking seductively.

Kiana’s head turned to Juno with a head shake, waving her off. “Girl, please, he’s definitely giving fifty shades of grey if it was written by a woman and had all black cast but better and I'm Ana,” She gushed with a giggle.

You were still silent from seeing Terry after all these years, he was fine as hell.

You recall Terry from your college days, where you tutored him in math. He visited you during each tutoring session.

It seems your efforts were worthwhile; he was intriguing and quite attractive, and he had also served as a Marine.

You didn't require his help for anything; you were a stubborn woman who valued your independence.

While you understood that Terry could indulge you and offer you his black credit cards, you wanted it to be you secretly. But you didn't want to be desperate.

“Hey, Y/N, didn't Terry have a big crush on you in college?” Kiana asked you in a curious tone.

You still didn't say anything as you tried to remember it. Mona waved a hand in front of your face and snapped her fingers twice, “Y/N, hey! You good?” she asked again.

“He did? He could have any woman that he wants now,” You said to them, shrugging your shoulders.

Juno placed her hands on your shoulders and faced you forward, “Don’t do that, you are smart, sexy as fuck, beautiful, and funny, your personality is amazing, I bet Terry still likes you too,” She sang playfully.

"Y/N! could meet in the conference room, please! With Terry!" Leigh shouted with a stren tone.

Juno and Kiana squealing, and jumping for joy with you. "Oh shit, it's you! I fucking knew it! Ahhhh!" Kiana squealed quietly, patting your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes at them, chuckling at them. "Relax, relax, ladies. We'll be shopping in Paris later,” you joked with a grin.

“You better mean that shit too, girl! The whole nine!” Juno yelled back, smiling like a villain.

You walked out of the break room with nervousness flowing through you, heading toward the conference room.

You pushed open the door and saw him standing behind the table in a black long sleeve tee shirt, matching pants and sneakers, gold Rolex watch on his wrist, glasses resting behind his face.

Terry turned around faced you with those green eyes of his that made your skin tingle.

Hey Y/N, how are you? It’s been a while,” he greeted you with a warm tone, his voice smooth like whiskey.

“Hey Terry, I've been better but it certainly has, I didn't expect you to be here,” You replied back, your voice still steady yet a little shaky.

“Neither did I, but I had to. There’s something important I need to discuss with you,” Terry admitted to you, stepping a bit closer.

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “Important? Like… business important, or personal?”

“Personal, You might want to sit down for this,” he replied, a slight smirk dancing on his lips. “You might want to sit down for this.”

You sat down on the desk chair across from him, looking into his eyes.

Terry leaned forward, his expression serious. “Y/N, I know this is unexpected, but I want to propose something to you—something that could change both our lives.”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his words. “What do you mean?”

“I want to marry you, I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve thought about it for a long time. I want you as my wife, in every sense of the word.” he stated, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Marry me? Just like that? Be honest with me Terry,” You asked him, crossing your arms with a smirk.

Terry sighed, as he leaned against the wall, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

“It’s not just that I want to be with you, My father doesn’t think I can handle the business; he’s set on handing it over to my brother, Tristan,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

His shoulders slumped slightly, revealing the weight of his words.

“See, you can't fool me, Mr. Richmond, you said he was arrogant, irresponsible and a drunk asshole, wasting your parents’ money,” You recited in ‘duh’ tone while holding your fingers out to count. nodding with a soft hum.

Terry smiled and nodded at you; you understood him completely. You were both very familiar with each other.

“See? You know what I'm talking about, and you know what else my damn father said to me?” Terry asked in irritated tone, crossing his arms in frustration.

“He won't give that business to you unless you're married like himself right?” You guessed with a smirk, tilting your head to the side.

You’ve been facing some financial setbacks, obviously, you can see this marriage as a solution. With Terry, he can pay of off for everything, But you did feel the same way about Terry, you thought about it diligently.

“Mhm, yes I'll marry you, Terry Richmond. Where are the papers, I know you brought them and the officiant, always come prepared," You agreed with a mischievous grin, gently tugging at his collar.

“You know me so well, beautiful but you do know that we have to get married, have a wedding, invite our friends and families, the whole nine?” Terry asked with a clever tone, walking toward you.

You giggled with a nod, “Yes I do, I'm making sure that I know what I sign up for, we have to be smart about it. But still you were always so mysterious Terry, there may be more to you,” You reasoned with wit, your finger resting under your chin.

Terry brought out the marriage papers and the officiant from the room, the papers were signed, Terry stuffed them them neatly in the manilla folder.

Terry walked out of the conference room with you, your boss Leigh’s eyes nearly popped out of her socket, and your best friends cheered for you with glee.

“Hell yeah, that's our girl!” Kiana exclaimed with a grin, jumping up and down.

“And we're gonna be shopping in Paris and Rome, we as black women deserve everything! The gotdamn world as our own, created by us, for us!” Juno shouted with pride, nodding her head.

Juno was right about, black women deserved nothing the greatest not just the best, they deserved to be treated with respect and deserved to be treated like empresses, if they could create their own planet then they would do it in a heartbeat.

And just like that, you accepted the marriage proposal, and you quit your job. You didn't need it anymore, and your boss already pissed you off by making you work on the weekend twice.

——————

The next day, you moved in with Terry in a elegant suburban one-story home without a bunch of windows, since he remembered you telling him that you hated a house with too many windows, you liked your privacy.

You were still adjusting to the idea of living with Terry, the man who had once needed your help with math equations but now carried the weight of the world on his shoulders as a billionaire.

You had always admired his ambition; it had drawn you to him back in college. But now, as he stood in the kitchen, brewing coffee in a pair of sweatpants that clung to his toned body, you felt a spark of something deeper — a connection that ran beyond mere attraction.

"Want some?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder, his green eyes catching the morning light streaming through the window.

His voice was warm, inviting, and it sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You nodded, a smile forming on your lips. "Yeah, sure. I could use the caffeine."

As Terry prepared your coffee, you took a moment to absorb everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

You had gone from a cubicle life, filled with monotony and a boss who barely recognized your worth, to living with a man who was not only powerful but also incredibly attentive.

"Y/N, You okay? You seem a bit lost in thought," Terry called, breaking you from your thoughts.

He handed you a steaming mug, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Thank you, Terry,”

“You're welcome, beautiful,”

You took a sip, savoring the rich flavor before answering. "I’m just...trying to wrap my head around all of this, this feels surreal." you gestured around the cozy kitchen filled with sunlight.

Terry leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, his expression shifting from playful to serious. "I know it’s a lot to take in, but I promise you, I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t mean it. This isn't just a business arrangement for me."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You could see the determination in his eyes, the deep-seated desire to protect and cherish you. It was a side of him that you had glimpsed in college but never fully appreciated until now.

"I believe you, but what if this doesn’t work out? What if we end up hating each other?" you replied softly, your heart racing.

Terry stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "I refuse to let that happen. I want to build something real with you. I’ve seen the darkness in this world, and I don’t want to face it alone. I want you by my side."

His vulnerability caught you off guard. You had only ever known the confident, charming Terry, but there was a depth to him that made your heart ache for him.

You wanted to know his secrets, the burdens he carried, the demons that haunted him.

"Tell me about your family, What’s your relationship with your brother like?" you urged, wanting to peel back the layers of this man who had captivated you since your college days.

Terry sighed, his expression turning pensive. "Tristan is… complicated. He was always the favorite, the golden child. My father believes he can carry on the family legacy better than I can. It’s strained our relationship. And then there’s my mother…she’s caught in the middle, trying to keep the peace."

You could sense the pain behind his words. It was a familiar struggle, one that many black families faced — the weight of expectations, the pressure to succeed, the fear of disappointment.

"I’m sorry, you don’t have to feel like you’re alone in this." you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.

Terry looked down at your hand, then back at you. There was a flicker of something — hope, perhaps? — that danced in his eyes. "That’s exactly why I want you with me. You understand what it means to fight for your place in this world."

You smiled softly. "I do. And I’m here for it, all of it. Just promise me that we’ll communicate through the tough times."

"Always," he vowed, his voice low and sincere. You leaned in gradually and kissed his him passionately, his lush lips were soft.

You would still need to confront both his family and yours, and you hadn't even informed them that you were married to a billionaire whom you taught in college.

“I haven’t told my family about this marriage yet, and I never told them that I taught you in college, they’re gonna brag and try to take credit for it, or make themselves look good,” you sighed lowly, setting your cup down on the counter.

And in your family's minds, they would see you as the black sheep and golden child, now that you had money, you would be a scapegoat but you knew that Terry wouldn't have anyone to do that to you.

You had to cut off your family for being disrespectful and manipulative, once you moved out and lived with your best friends, you felt free for the first time.

Your mental health was bad at that point, You could finally breathe.

Terry’s face softened at you, “Y/N, you deserve to be celebrated, not criticized. If they can’t see that, then they don’t deserve a place in your life,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Your heart swelled at his words. It was comforting to know that you had someone who understood your struggles and was willing to stand by you.

You’d always seen Terry as a protector, and now he was offering you more than just a partnership; he was offering you a chance to redefine your life on your own terms.

“I appreciate that, Terry. You really don’t know how much that means to me,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion.

He stepped even closer, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken. “I do know, Y/N. I’ve been through my own battles, and I’ve learned that the people who truly matter are the ones who lift you up, not bring you down.”

As the mornings turned into days, you found comfort in the mundane moments spent in Terry’s home. You made the decisions on the decor and colors for the wedding, the date was set, you called your friends and they were squealing again.

You took turns cooking dinner, watched movies on lazy Sundays, and even argued over the best way to load the dishwasher. It was simple yet beautiful, and you cherished every second of it.

You had to prepare yourself for the aftermath of this wedding, you were happy to spend the rest of your life with Terry but you didn't know what else lay ahead.

———————

#black fanfiction #black!reader #notapradagurl7 #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond smut #rebel ridge #black women #black writer #black reader #Richmond x plus size reader

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saturnville · 5 months ago

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one way | kelvin harrison, jr.

part one

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc (nia) summary: nia has kelvin wrapped around his finger. so much so that when he misses her, he goes above and beyond to do something about it. warnings: none wc: 5,341 an: listen to one way by 6lack & tpain. also, I decided to make this a mini series. so, this is some time (an unspecified time) later. remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged! tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax

Work trips usually thrilled Kelvin. The allure to explore the world on his company’s dollar sparked child-like glee. First-class seats with heated eye masks and champagne, king-sized beds with duvets white as freshly fallen snow, and cuisines so rich in flavor they inspired his dinner menu for his evolving dinner menu back home.

But this work trip was different.

The clatter of silverware in the hotel restaurant felt deafening. The nightlife of the city below grated his nerves like nails on a chalkboard, mocking him. His eyes found a couple, smiling and twirling on the sidewalk. He was green with envy as visuals of their love blinded him. Even cheesy romantic comedies on free streaming felt empty without someone to giggle over the awkward scenes.

For the first time, Kelvin didn’t bask in the thrill of the escape from his life back home. He was drowning in the stillness of loneliness. And he hated it.

Once a month, Nia took a Friday off. She dedicated it to deep cleaning her home, doing laundry that may have gotten caught in the crossfire of work and other responsibilities, self-care, and anything else that fit on the long list stamped on the front of her refrigerator. The reset day was often intense and busy. It took a toll on her body, but having everything done by early afternoon was an accomplishment—an accomplishment she celebrated with Chinese food and peach-infused wine.

Nia sat in the corner of her L-shaped couch, laundry scattered to her left and folded piles on her right. The Lion King played softly in the background as she worked through the last of her baskets, humming along to "Be Prepared." Well, humming might be generous. Kelvin would call it her "tone-deaf symphony," but she didn’t care.

Folding clothes was tedious—her least favorite chore. Four baskets of proof surrounded her. Her mom loved laundry, but Nia avoided it like the plague, only tackling it when she had no choice.

Mid-hum, her ringtone blared, ear-blitzing and obnoxious.

She stretched over a pile of clothes, her eyes still glued to the screen, and patted around until her hand found her phone. She swiped and accepted the call without looking at the caller's identification. “Hello?” Her voice was soft but curious, still folding.

“What are you doing?” Kelvin. His voice was low and easy, like a Sunday morning. She shifted in her seat at the sound of his tone scratching a part of her brain she didn’t know could feel an itch. She heard the life of the city bustling in the background. She smiled softly as if he could see her. "Laundry," she replied, still focused on the task.

“Why? She asked cautiously, wondering why a response didn’t come from him for multiple minutes. Kelvin didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she was met with the pitter-patter of his thumbs against the screen that sounded a lot like her mother’s keyboard when she angrily typed emails to her teachers for not letting her use the bathroom.

Then, calmly as if it wouldn't change her evening: “Smooth. Pack a bag.” Kelvin had a certain way with words, she noted. Sometimes, he spoke in a way that expected a response to keep a conversation going. But an assertiveness in his voice left no room for response; it was like a four-word monologue that made her stomach clench with equal parts curiosity and the kind of flutter only Kelvin could.

In her shock, she paused. A silence so complete that it hummed through the hair. Then: “What?”

The breath he huffed out told her he didn’t like repeating himself. But, he would have to. He went from sending her cute messages with strings of emojis, declaring he missed her and couldn’t wait to see her, to firmly telling her to pack a bag.

“Pack a bag,” he repeated, his voice unwavering. Her eyebrows raised, and her head jerked back. “Your flight leaves in four hours.”

Nia startled out a laugh, the kind that started in her throat but didn’t quite reach her chest. He had to be kidding. He was quite the jokester, always finding a way to pull her leg. But this was a joke she didn’t want to partake in. “Kelvin, are you—dude, what? Are you serious?”

“I told you I don’t like to lie, Nia,” was his response. She swallowed. “I already booked the ticket. I sent it to your email.”

Silence on the other end stretched again, but he could hear her faint exhale, the sound of a laugh she fought to suppress. “You didn’t even ask me.” How did he know she didn’t have any last-minute plans? Not that she did, but the question would’ve been nice. Her eyes darted to the laundry, trying to determine how many outfits she could make if she decided to go.

She could hear the smug smile stretching across his lips like a Cheshire cat. Wide and arrogant. “I didn’t have to. But feel free to say no. I can always get a credit. Take a solo trip to Europe, or whatever the hell y'all be doing.” Bastard.

Nia swallowed thickly. “You’re very sure of yourself,” she managed, but her voice betrayed her without a second thought.

Kelvin hummed like a preacher in the church.“Yeah,” he replied, the lazy confidence in his voice matched only by the image she conjured of him leaning back, probably smirking like he’d won something big. "I don’t leave room for guessing when it comes to you.” Had God answered her prayers? To have a man be serious about her to where he’d pulled out that heavy-ass credit card and made accommodations for her to be beside him for the weekend.

Her breath caught. The kind of confidence left her toes curling and her heart sprinting like FloJo. She shifted in her seat again, the sudden heat between her thighs growing warmer by the second. She tried to find her footing and gain a sense of self-control to push back against the storm of him. Nah, he wasn't a storm. He was a hurricane--intense and uncontrollable, with the power to consume her whole. She'd let him.

"Anyway," he sighed, a soft grunt following as his chair creaked. "The Uber will be there in an hour."

Nia chuckled breathlessly. Her eyes fell on the half-folded shirt in her lap. He was serious. "You, Kelvin, are impossible."

Kelvin’s laugh rang through the phone like he knew exactly how she was fighting the urge to drop everything and get to it. "You should probably get to it, Nia. Time's ticking."

"Yeah, yeah," she said as nonchalantly as she could. She carefully slid off the couch, praying he wouldn't hear her moving at his command. "Now, get off my phone so I can finish what I was doing. Bye, Kelvin."

"You know, I like how you say my name." Her gasp pulled a chuckle from him. Before he could reply, she pulled her phone away from her ear and pressed the end, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. He played too damn much.

She dropped her phone on the couch, ignoring its soft click when it collided with the remote, and paced in the living room. Glancing at the clock, she saw forty-five minutes. She could do this. She wasn't a last-minute packer, but Kelvin's urgency made her second-guess every outfit she pulled from her closet.

"Pack for a weekend getaway," she muttered, grabbing a handful of clothes from the pile. "It's not that hard." Panties, bra, satin pajamas. Would a dress be needed? Of course; what if they went to dinner? Short, long, slit, or no slit?

Nia dropped her phone, pacing in the living room, pretending this wasn’t the most nerve-wracking thing she’d done all week.

She tossed another shirt onto the bed and squinted at it. Was this cute enough? She didn’t even know what they’d be doing—he could’ve been sending her to the middle of nowhere for all she knew. Still, she folded it carefully, like she wasn’t imagining how his arms would feel around her when she landed.

Don’t think about him. Don’t think about how much you want to be with him already.

With one last glance at the time, she grabbed her bag, mentally telling herself that she could pull this off. She didn’t need to panic. But as the seconds ticked away, she realized one thing was for sure—she wasn’t packing fast enough.

Kelvin leaned against the sleek, black SUV, arms crossed and a smile tugging on his lips as he waited. He couldn't remember the last time he was this eager to pick someone up--probably never if he was being honest with himself.

It wasn't just that she was flying in to see him, though that part made his heart leap. It was the fact that she'd be his in a way she had never been before. No distractions, no hiccups, nothing pulling them away from one another. The thought had been driving him mad since he booked her flight. He imagined every detail his brain could come up with--hearing her call his name from the bathroom as she got ready, watching her nose scrunch as she giggled at awkward scenes in corny romantic comedies, feeling her body against his as she slept, tasting the mint on her lips as his tongue caressed hers. He closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't lose his composure in public, but he was teetering on the edge.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him out of these thoughts. He grabbed it, a text from her awaiting his attention.

Almost there. Don't make me wait.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. Nia wouldn't let him get away with anything, mainly not a tease. But he had no plan to keep her waiting. No, there was no time to waste. It wasn't a casual meetup between two old flings because he couldn't keep it in his pants long enough to wait to get home. This was the physical manifestation of his heart's desire coming to fruition.

It was the culmination of restless nights replaying her laugh in his head, wondering if she fell asleep thinking about him, too. It resulted from careful, meticulous planning, cautious restraint, and self-control that worked together to write a story unfolding better than he could have imagined.

He typed a quick reply.

Never. I'll be waiting.

Everything seemed to slow down when he saw her stepping out through the terminal doors. All he saw was her. She in all her angelic glory. The sun shone brightly, and her nose crinkled as she squinted. Her hair, let loose to do its thing, blew across her face. He could hear her giggle as she swiped the unruly strands from her face. Her eyes darted left and right, looking for him in the sea of bodies. But when her eyes met him, the slight smile on her face grew so big that he could hardly see her eyes.

"Hey, pretty girl," the words slipped out before he could stop them. His voice was lower than usual, a little raspier, the affection undeniable.

Nia took a final step toward him, almost chest-to-chest with the man who'd turned her life upside down. She visibly softened beneath his gaze, like an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her shoulders rounded, her complete lips parted, and her eyelashes brushed against the high points of her cheek with every blink she made. God, she was so damn pretty.

"How was the flight?" Kelvin’s words came muffled as he grabbed her carry-on and put it in the backseat, the body of the large truck decreasing the volume of his words. He moved to open the passenger door, which brought 24 white roses, and her favorite candy stopped her in her tracks. Her bottom lip poked out in a slight pout, and she looked at him with gleaming eyes that sparkled like stars.

“Kelvin…” Her voice broke slightly, soft and full of something that tightened his chest. E

“I figured you’d need a proper welcome,” he replied, feigning nonchalance, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him. Her reaction was priceless. If only he could’ve snapped a photo to have it with him forever. “Come on, get in.” Kelvin moved the flowers from her seat, waited for her to adjust, and placed them in her lap. Nia tried to say something, but the words didn’t come. She laughed softly and looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars. Her fingers caressed the delicate petals in awe.

Kelvin closed the door behind her and slid into the driver’s seat, quickly drifting out of the airport parking lot. A comfortable silence settled between them, wrapped around them like a hug. Nia unwrapped the gummy nag, popping one into her mouth. He glanced at her, the dim streetlights playing across her features like a spotlight. She was a one-woman show, and he, her audience, was captured and enticed by everything she did.

Her soft voice broke through the silence. “Can I hold your hand?” He saw her looking at him through his peripheral vision. She was curious to hear his response but already knew the answer.

Kelvin blinked one, two, three times. His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “Huh?”

She turned her head toward him, her expression steady but expectant. “Your hand. Can I hold it?”

His breath hitched like he’d been snatched back, and he fought the smirk tugging at his lips. He reached across the center console without a word, letting his hand fall into hers. Her fingers laced with his, petite and warm. It was simple, but how she looked at their joined hands had him swallowing hard. What could be going on in that pretty little head of hers? His thumb brushed her knuckles, a small act that felt wildly intimate.

“You’re dangerous, girl,” he murmured, his voice low enough to blend with the hum of the car. Nia tilted her head, brows lifted. “Me? Dangerous?”

He momentarily tore his eyes from the road to look into her eyes as his lips brushed against her knuckles. “Yeah. Got me acting all kinds of soft.”

It was Nia’s turn to smirk. She hummed, off-key, might he add, and said, “Good. You should be.”

“Not bad,” Nia teased as she circled the hotel room, tossing a small smile over her shoulder. She’d been in her fair share of hotels, but this one took the cake. “It’s beautiful.” Her boots kissed the carpet, which looked new, as none of the fibers were out of place and smelled fresh like daisies. Her purse slid off her shoulder with a thump as she let it fall against the couch. Her fingers ran across the top of the pillows, her nails catching slightly in their loose threads.

Kelvin leaned against the doorframe, his eyes following her every move. He couldn’t help but feel like the smile she tossed over her shoulder was meant for him, and he couldn’t help but smile back, even if she weren’t looking.

Nia turned left and took two steps, her stride slow and deliberate as she approached the window. Her eyes widened like she’d seen Christmas lights for the first time as she drank in the wonder of New York City. With her forehead pressed against the cool glass, she craned her neck back and forth to embrace the beauty of the fast-paced life. The muffled sound of car engines and honking horns hummed harmoniously, with the air conditioning system blending into the background. She was in awe of New York. He was in awe of her.

“This is my first time in New York,” Nia said once she sensed his presence behind her. She sighed softly, her breath creating a small circle of fog on the glass. She drew a smiley face in its wake, then wrapped her arms around herself, massaging her elbows in a twisting motion as if she needed comfort. “I dreamt about it, but it always seemed out of reach.” Kelvin acknowledged her with a nod that she couldn’t see. She felt the warmth radiating from his body and leaned back to experience just a spark of the flame. His chin on her shoulder made her knees buckle, to which she leaned back, letting his firm body carry her weight.

He knew she’d never been. Though he selfishly wanted to see her, he knew she’d never been to New York. In his mind, killing two birds with one stone seemed feasible. It made sense. He got what he wanted, and she got to experience an environment that seemed a universe away. But she didn’t need to know all of that. So instead, he let his hand trail down her arm and settle hand as he whispered against the shell of her ear, “I know.”

The sound of the water shutting off echoed through the hotel suite, and Kevin was there, adjusting his suit jacket in the mirror. Nimble fingers stumbled over each button, trying to force it between each loop. He didn’t hear her step out, but he knew the moment she did—there was no mistaking it. The soft rustle of the towel and the scent of vanilla and cedarwood filled the room like a gentle caress. His pulse quickened.

Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of her reflection. She stepped out of the bathroom, her towel barely hanging, just low enough to tease. His eyes traced the curve of her silhouette, the way her skin glowed, damp and soft as she had just walked out of his dreams. There was something about the way she didn’t rush to cover herself. She moved confidently as she knew exactly what effect she had on him—and she wasn’t shy about it.

He couldn’t help but watch as she glanced at him through the mirror, her brown eyes locking with his. Her lips twitched into that playful smile he adored, and for a split second, he wondered if she could see how badly he wanted her. He cleared his throat, running a hand over his jacket again, though the tension in the room wasn’t about fabric anymore. It was about the two of them, the space between them shrinking by the second.

She shifted, pulling her towel just a little tighter, though she didn’t seem to be in a rush to move away from him. She knew exactly what she was doing. "You're still here?" she asked, her voice teasing but soft like she was giving him the green light to stay. The soft pitter-patter of her feet against the tile floor made his eyes drop. Her nails were painted red, a rich shade that complimented her skin beautifully. His eyes fluttered closed briefly as he inhaled deeply.

“Yeah,” he said, opening his eyes, his voice low, full of intention. “I’m admiring the view.”

Her gaze flickered over him, and for the first time, he saw her let her guard slip. She didn’t avert her eyes or try to hide how she was taking him in. No, she leaned into it—allowing him to see the hunger in her gaze, the way her lips parted slightly. Any other day, if he caught her gaze lingering longer than usual, she’d stall like a deer in headlights, like a criminal caught for petty theft. She was letting him watch her.

A beat passed, and she caught his eye again in the mirror without warning. And just like that, something shifted. The way Nia held his gaze told him she was just as comfortable with him in the room. The quiet, simmering tension between them cracked, and she said it—soft and unexpectedly as if it had slipped out without thinking. “Help me with my zipper?”

Kelvin didn’t have the chance to answer. The casual nature of her movements let him know it wasn’t a question but an expectation to be fulfilled. And yet, even with her confidence boiling over like a kettle too whole, he had not expected her to release her towel like she was the only one in the room. Kelvin’s lips parted to release a shuddered breath he prayed only he could hear.

She was brilliant; she’d already shimmied her way into her panties, presumably in the shower, but everything else was exposed, well, almost. He’d seen more skin than he’d ever had throughout their relationship, which was deliciously overwhelming. Her hips bit the waistband of the thin panties and hardly held everything she had.

Nia held the towel over her breasts and looked around for her moisturizer. She mumbled incoherent words to herself, lost in her world as though the man she shared a space with wasn’t losing his inhibitions with every passing second. “Kel.” He was pulled out of Lalaland. “My dress is on top of my suitcase. Can you grab it for me?”

Gladly. He needed a moment to collect himself before he went ballistic. Turning on the balls of his feet, Kelvin did as she instructed. The dress was nothing he’d ever expect her to wear, but he was more than ready to see how the sleek, green dress would accentuate her curves and glisten against her skin.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, carrying it back into the bathroom. Nia turned over her shoulder and smiled. That Colgate-white smile. His right released the hanger from the confines of the dress, tugging softly at the zipper. She took it from his grasp gently, whispering her gratitude, and shimmied into it. Dear God.

“I think you have a staring problem,” Nia teased, locking eyes with him in the mirror as she adjusted the dress to cover her breasts. Kelvin’s head tilted to the side and his tongue ran over his top row of teeth. He shook his head. “Like I said, admiring the view.”

“Zip me, please?” She asked to his reflection in the mirror, shamelessly dragging her eyes down his frame. How much tighter could his clothes get in one night? Kelvin’s steps were slow and calculated as he inched closer to her. As the distance between them closed, the tension amplified further than it had thus far.

Nia shuddered in anticipation as she felt his warm hands against the small of her back. His hands were large, palms covering a quarter of her lower back. His thumb caressed the skin there, pausing over the faded tattoo. “Cute,” he murmured. Lover, written in a cursive script. His left hand found her waist, holding and cupping in an almost possessive manner, while his right slowly, almost agonizingly slow, pulled her zipper up. His fingertips lingered at the back of her neck, enjoying how the skin raised and how her pulse quickened beneath them.

His lips parted, but the words were lost. Here she was, back pressed against him, chest heaving, eyes fluttering as she anticipated what would happen next. Hell, he didn’t know either, but what he was sure of was the way she tasted had to be glorious. “You look beautiful.” His sentiment came out in a hushed whisper against the shell of her ear, to which she whimpered. “So beautiful.”

Kelvin’s lips hovered over her neck, just hardly grazing her hot skin. Once by her side, her hands gripped the countertop to steady her weak knees. Kelvin saw them in the mirror, and a devil-may-care smile threatened to curl on his lips. He could take her right here. Take off her dress—better yet, have it bunched around her hips as he took her from behind, forcing her to watch how pretty she looked when she was begging for more. But it was too early for that. He’d turn her every way but loose, but the time wasn’t right, no matter how badly he wanted to yank the clock off the wall and force its hands forward.

“I thought you had manners, Nia, what happened?” He teased, nibbling on the shell of her ear. His hand slithered around her back and toward her stomach until it settled at her pubic bone, dangerously close to where the slit of her dress was. One deliberate move, and she’d be his for the taking. “I said, you look beautiful. So pretty.”

Nia inhaled deeply, and her voice broke slightly. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and her tongue darted out to dampen her dry lips. “Thank you, baby.” Baby? That was new. He smirked against her skin. He had her where he wanted her, yearning for him, but not to where a line would be crossed. A happy (temporary) medium. Before he got too deep and said screw the reservation, Kelvin announced: “Reservation’s in 30. I’ll let you finish.” With one last peck on her neck, he peeled his body away from hers and walked out of the bathroom, but not before digesting the low moan she released once she thought he was far enough. Ravishing.

She determined Kelvin would be the death of her. He was too much for her to handle, too hot for her to handle. She’d done well thus far, but as the night progressed and the fiery tension between them loomed like precipitous clouds, ready to rain down upon them, she didn’t know how long she could hold out.

She had a rule, and he knew it. But goodness gracious, she was ready to renege on everything she said when she stepped out of the bathroom and saw him posted against the wall, one foot crossed over the other, neck dropped, to better access what was on his phone.

Blue was his color. And it happened to be her favorite. Part of her assumed his sneaky ass wore the rich shade of blue to get her bent out of shape…or bent over. But this was Kelvin—cool, calm, and way too aware of the effect he had on her. The tailored suit he wore accentuated broad shoulders and a trim waist.

Her throat went dry as she traced his slim form. The low light from the chandelier shone on him like a spotlight, his waves catching the rays. He had an alluring presence that she was desperate to be wrapped in.

Kelvin glanced up, sensing her presence before she could speak. He smiled small, acknowledging her presence. His eyes swept over her frame, nodding in appreciation of the art before him. Somehow, she managed to look even more stunning than she did before. Her dress pooled at her ankles, but the slit on her left thigh allowed the gold accents on her shoes to shine. Her curly hair was in a slick bun, showing her neck and gorgeous collarbones. “You good?”

Good? Was she good? Hell no, she wasn’t good. Her body was buzzing like an electric wire. She was losing self-control and hardly wanted to go to dinner. She’d much instead release everything she’d been attempting to suppress. But he’d already seen her crumble. She couldn’t fully unravel yet. His head was already big; Lord forbid she gas it further.

“I’m good,” Nia lied, tucking her clutch under her arm. “You clean up nice. I like the blue.” Kelvin’s head dropped to examine his suit. It was as if he had dressed in the dark and hoped all the pieces matched. “This old thing? Thank you. But you, Niani…look like trouble.”

Her eyes closed briefly. No one said her full name. She didn’t like how anyone else said it—too much emphasis on the second A or insufficient focus on the first I. She liked how Kelvin said it, like a subtle praise she desired to hear on repeat.

Kelvin tilted his head, pushing off the wall to invade her space. She opened her eyes when his cologne wafted her nose. He noticed it. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, and her chest rose slightly higher on her next breath. One by one, the walls began to fall. Her reaction wasn’t lost on him. The first time she admitted Nia wasn’t her first name but rather a nickname derived from Niani, he tested it like an unusual food, rolling it around, tasting it until he felt right. He remembered how her pupils dilated, and her eyes darkened when it rolled off his lips.

She liked it when he said her name. And only he could say her name.

His hand grazed hers, intertwining their fingers. She flinched. He smiled knowingly, but her request took him aback: “Say it again.” Her breath was caught in her throat, and her voice trembled.

Kelvin leaned in just a little, his breath warm against her ear. The way he said it, low and possessive, made her shiver. Nia swallowed. Her knees were weak, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand there, teetering on the edge, waiting for the right time to fall into him entirely.

He smiled again, pulling back just enough to give her a glimpse of what was coming. "Dinner’s wait—“

“—take me to bed.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a request. It was a demand as if she knew exactly what would happen next, and yet... part of her still wanted to hold on just a little longer.

Her words were not hesitant, but he could hear how her voice trembled. She’d permitted him to take things further. He wouldn’t go too far but far enough to leave her satisfied.

Nia hummed lowly as her heavy eyelids opened and closed slowly, and she struggled to regain her vision. The chandelier grew tired, leaving the room dimly lit with the city lights. The low buzz of the air conditioning system regulated her overwhelmed body.

She sat up with a soft grunt, bracing her body with one arm while her other kept the angelic white duvet over her bare chest. Her head craned to the right, seeing the bed bare, and frowned. Her eyes followed their clothes trail, leading to him standing in the corner of the room, back to her, and the hotel phone up to his ear. Like her, his evening attire was long gone, and sweatpants became his uniform. Nia bit her lip as she watched his back flex with each subtle movement.

She swung her legs over the bed, bending down to fish for an article of clothing to put on. He may have had a show, but with the windows wide open, the last thing she needed was her bare body on display for everyone to see. What she had was for his eyes only.

Nimble fingers curled around his white dress shirt, sliding it over her long arms. She buttoned it enough to keep her chest covered, then tip-toed to where he stood, eager to feel him against her again.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his bare waist, taking note of how he shuddered when the tips of her nails glided across his abdomen. Nia’s lips brushed against his shoulder, and then she pressed her cheek against his back, appreciating how the low rumble of his voice lulled her back to sleep. “That’s fine. Appreciate it, thank you.”

Kelvin dropped the phone back on the receiver and peered over his shoulder. “Hello to you, too.” Kelvin turned one foot over the other in her arms, taking in how relaxed she looked. Her makeup was smudged, and her lipstick stained the pillow, leaving her lips bare and waiting to be kissed. “Food’s on its way up.”

Nia nodded and made a noise, something between a content sigh and a low moan. He couldn’t decipher, but she sounded pleased, and that’s what mattered. “Come back to bed in the meantime?” She looked at him with those pretty brown eyes that had gotten him into trouble lately.

Kelvin nodded, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “Lead the way.”

kelvharrjr, nikkidawn, angierose, and 319 others liked this post

nianijanice wine, broadway, and tailored suits. nyc, I love you

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angierose girl who tf is that man?

- nianijanice my secret admirer

kelvharrjr nyc looks good on you, shawty

- nianijanice thank you, handsome

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nikkidawn girl…is it who I think it is?

- nianijanice 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

- nikkidawn CALL ME NOW! 🌝

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orellazalonia · 13 days ago

Text

Laptop Warfare

Summary: In your cat form, you relentlessly sabotage Bucky’s attempts to work by sitting on his laptop, messing with his reports, and opening multiple tabs; forcing him to revert to handwriting like it’s the 1940s. (Bucky Barnes x shapeshifter!reader)

Word Count: 1k+

A/N: I want to create a mini-series similar to this but have reader shift into different kinds of animals. Anyways, enjoy more cat shenanigans. Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist | Shapeshifting Shenanigans Masterlist

Bucky Barnes was not what you'd call a tech-savvy man, but he’d gotten used to the basics.

He could handle mission logs, internal reports, and the occasional strongly-worded email to Stark with minimal suffering. That morning, he even made coffee without breaking anything. Things were going well.

Then you, in your most annoying form: soft, smug, and four-legged, jumped onto the table with a thud. See, you started this infuriating habit of annoying your metal-armed teammate. After all, his reactions were too priceless to resist.

He didn’t even have to look up to know you were planning something.

“Don’t.”

You let out a soft meow, too innocent to trust.

He kept typing while you sat beside the laptop. Tail curled neatly around your feet. Just watching.

He narrowed his eyes.

“I mean it.”

Another soft, purring mewl. You blinked up at him. All wide-eyed, pure, and completely harmless.

Then plop.

You landed directly on the keyboard, your entire floofy body sprawled across the keys like a warm, vibrating puddle.

The screen flickered as you mashed four separate function commands at once. The report on infiltration routes vanished.

“No- hey! I didn’t save that!”

Bucky leaned over, trying to gently lift you off.

You melted into the keyboard like wet spaghetti.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

He tried again. You stretched dramatically, rolling onto your back and extending your claws in every direction like a lazy sun god. The screen beeped and a random browser opened. Then another. And another. Somehow you had 17 tabs open and a YouTube video about “How To Boil Water” playing in the background.

Bucky stared at the screen then at you. You yawned innocently, completely unbothered.

“That’s it.”

He picked you up like a toddler with attitude under the armpits, your fuzzy arms outstretched. You could see the betrayal in his eyes. You dangled in the air, tail twitching for a moment before he set you on the floor. You stared up at him and waited three seconds.

Then leapt back up and planted yourself exactly in the same spot. This time with a little extra tail flick into his coffee.

The sip he was halfway to taking halted midair.

“Are you serious?”

You purred and licked your paw.

He exhaled slowly. You could almost see him counting to ten. “Okay. Fine. You win.” He reached behind the couch, pulled out a dusty old notebook, and a pen.

You blinked. Slowly. Smug.

“Happy now?” He muttered, beginning to handwrite his mission log like it was the 1940s.

You curled up, content, purring over the keyboard while the laptop screen faded.

He muttered something about “goddamn cats” and “Stark’s fault” but didn’t move you again.

Ten minutes later, Steve walked in, saw the whole scene, and paused.

“…You writing reports by hand now?”

“She won’t let me type.”

Steve squinted. “Can’t you just move her?”

“I’ve tried. She becomes heavier. It’s unnatural.”

You blinked up at Steve, completely motionless. Your mind already planning something else to get back at Bucky for calling you fat.

He started laughing. Loudly. “She’s your problem now, Buck.”

Bucky sighed and kept writing. You didn’t even bother looking up. You’d already won.

By the next morning, you were still a cat.

Still smug. Still fuzzy. Still very much in control, but you had graciously moved spots sometime within the night.

Bucky looked like he hadn’t slept. His hair was a little messy, his now untouched coffee was colder than it should be, and his posture screamed a man defeated by pounds of fur and spite.

You were currently draped across the back of a couch, tail flicking slowly. Watching. Waiting.

When he sat down at the table and opened his laptop again, now freshly charged with a report half-written, you stretched. You then jumped down with a soft thump, and padded over, silent as a whisper.

He saw the shadow of you moving in the reflection on the screen.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You meowed sweetly and hopped onto the table with your most innocent blink. Then, without breaking eye contact, you sat squarely on the keyboard again.

Bucky sighed and dropped his forehead onto the table.

You purred.

“I swear to God,” He muttered, “I’ve fought HYDRA agents less persistent than you.”

You just made yourself more comfortable, curling into a neat loaf. The screen dimmed again. The report? Gone. Replaced with articles about cat behavior, one open Amazon cart containing 30 cat toys, and somehow, a dating site page.

Bucky looked up, absolutely done. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

You chirped and flopped onto your side. A clear victory pose.

That’s when Tony walked in, sipping his drink and eyeing the scene.

“…Still refusing to shift back, huh?”

“She’s gone full gremlin mode,” Bucky muttered. “She won’t let me work. She sleeps on my face. She bit my sock yesterday.”

Tony smirked. “Yeah, that tracks.”

“I tried to out-stubborn her.”

Tony laughed. “You tried to out-stubborn a shapeshifter in cat mode. That’s on you, Barnes.”

Bucky glared as Tony took out a small device. “What is that?”

Tony tapped a button. A little laser dot appeared on the floor. You lifted your head immediately, ears perking.

“Oh no,” Bucky groaned.

Tony moved the dot slowly across the floor.

You stared. You stalked.

Tony flicked it once.

Pounce. You slid across the hardwood like a tiny panther.

“NO!” Bucky shouted. “Don’t reward her! That’s like giving Loki the Tesseract when he’s bored!”

But you were already chasing the dot like your life depended on it, slamming into a chair, knocking over a throw pillow, then skidding into a bookshelf as you pounced again with feral energy.

Tony was dying laughing. “Oh, this is so going on the security feed.”

Bucky just dropped his face into his hands. “I can’t live like this.”

You leapt up onto the table again and batted at the laser on the laptop screen.

It closed his report.

Again.

Bucky looked up slowly, jaw clenched.

You flopped over and licked your paw, grooming like none of this had anything to do with you.

He stared for a long, long second.

Then leaned back and muttered, “That’s it. Stark, make me a second laptop. A decoy one. Covered in catnip and self-destructs when sat on.”

You meowed.

Tony grinned. “I’m so glad I installed cameras in this room.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel fic #marvel x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #Shapeshifter!reader #shapeshifting shenanigans

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darkwaveho · 10 months ago

Text

Mini Burden

Summary: Natasha's act of gentle parenting goes out the window for the first time.

Warnings: mentions of spanking, verbal abuse? gaslighting, guilt tripping, toxic relationship, angst, unresolved trauma.

Part 2

series masterlist

You never thought your daughter would return from an outing with Natasha with tears streaming down her face and so distraught. she runs into the house searching for you screaming your name. it's clear in her voice that she's upset. it isn't out of the ordinary that she comes home crying or upset because she didn't get what she wanted at the store or something so small as not stopping for ice cream before having dinner.

when she finds you in the kitchen, she practically runs into you clinching your legs as she cries into your jeans. "What happened Ana?" you soothe her as much as you can to get the words to come out clearly. Natasha still hasn't said anything on the situation or what happened. she doesn't even seem bothered by how upset she is. "M-mama." She stutters her words, your means to calming her down do nothing, you will get down to the problem, but your priority right now is to calm her heartbeat and break the potential fever that was coming on. you pick her up in your arms and head upstairs, you glance at Natasha on your way out and her facial expression gives you nothing. she's showing no emotions behind her eyes. she doesn't whisper to you on your way-out bout telling you the details later like she normally does and that scares you. it takes you about an hour to calm Anastasia down, she fought you on giving her a bath, she picked at her dino nuggets barely eating them, something serious has happened. You put Anastasia under neath her blanket. "Ana, can you tell me what happened at the store with mama?" her eyes fill with tears again and you're quick to reassure her. "Hey, it's okay." you gently rub her cheek with your thumb. "I wanted a new toy, mama said no it I really wanted it, mama told me to put it back."

"And what did you do?" you wait for the rest of the story, you know ana isn't entirely innocent she played a part in whatever this situation is. you concern is the outcome of whatever Natasha did because of it. "I knocked the other toys on the floor, and mama told me to pick it up. I didn't want to." you sigh softly knowing that this type of behavior is not acceptable or tolerated. "Ana, you know that's not okay." she nods her head slightly, understanding that her actions were wrong. "Keep going."

"She did the count down, but I still didn't pick them up." Natasha patience was wearing down you're sure of it, especially when the countdown isn't working. "She yelled at me to pick them up and when I yelled back at her she-"

-------------------

"I thought we agreed to never do that?" you burst into the room finally, Natasha thought you wouldn't even be sleeping in the same bed as her tonight. she looks up from her phone after typing away at the keyboard for a moment. she's not even surprised that ana told you what happened, but the worst part is she doesn't look remorseful.

"Yeah, well its clearly not working. She thinks she can do whatever she wants whenever she wants but we have to remember that we are the parent here y/n."

"There are other ways to discipline, we've been doing that already so what was so out of the ordinary today that you couldn't stick to it?"

"It was a few taps on the butt she'll be fine." Natasha waves that sentence off as if that means nothing to her. this is what you were afraid of when you two had talks about starting a family. unresolved issue within Natsha's past have kept you from wanting a child with her amongst other things but she put in the work to prove that she can be better, that she is better than her parents, you don't know what happened to that mentality today.

"She's not fine Natasha!" you raise your voice pointing at the door, the image of Anastasia bawling her eyes out as she ran into the house is frozen in your mind. "You popped our daughter because she's not old enough to fully control or express her emotions?"

"You should've saw the way she acted in that store, people stared at me!"

"So, she had a tantrum, she's fucking six-years old!"

"I am sick, sick of this gentle parenting bullshit! I have to walk around on eggshells about correcting my own daughter's actions." Natasha makes it point to throw her jacker across the room. it's fitting that she's having a tantrum of her own right now, but you bite your tongue.

"Did you have this same sentiment when you were in Ana's shoes?"

"What?"

"Were you this passionate about child discipline when you were the one receiving a back hand to the face? or a bruise to your skin, or a harsh and unforgivable word spit out at you with disgust?"

"That is not the same!"

"Isn't it though? it was nothing gentle about Alexei's parenting and even Melina didn't do her job right as a mother, she failed to protect you."

"That's great, it always comes back to this huh? I'm the thing."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm the thing in this house, I'm the thing in the relationship. I am the thing that's broken and will always remain broken. That part of me will never be fixed as much as I try to be what you want me to be for you and for our family." you open your mouth to speak, to stop her from breaking down her own progress even though she's done that the moment her hand came down against Anastasia. Natasha doesn't give you the chance to speak. "I chose to go against your script one time and now I am the winner of the worst mother in the world award. "Throwing my past back into my face to make me feel like shit about disciplining our daughter." you've had enough. you won't allow her to do this. you storm towards her fuming figure matching her anger. insinuating your words with a shove or pressing a finger into her chest the more upset it makes you.

"You seem to have forgot that she not just your daughter, she's our daughter and we agreed, mutually! We agreed to never place a hand on her, ever! you will not guilt trip me or gaslight me into thinking that what you did today is okay. Not this time, not when it comes to her!" In the past you were accustomed to taking Natasha back even when gaslighted, even when she was dead wrong, even when she knew she was wrong she still found a way to flip the script and make it about her being the victim. you don't want to hear her anymore, you're heard enough, you don't know who you're talking to right now. this was not your girlfriend; this was not the mother of your child. Natasha waits for you to say something else, she's looking for you to fight her, she'd argue with you all night long if you let her. You turn around quickly leaving out of the bedroom and slamming the door behind you. Natasha doesn't chase you; she doesn't scream after you, she lets you go. she lets you go to whatever room in this house you want to go to.

When Natasha wakes woken up to an empty bed, and a quiet house she knows you're not there, she knows her daughter isn't there. reflections of the argument hit her like a tidal wave. images of her daughter with tears streaming down her face and flinch of her body the moment Natasha tried to put her in the car seat correctly. it was too late; the damage had been done. even though her anger has simmered down to not even being a factor that would not be the case for you and Anastasia. You don't answer her calls, you don't answer her texts, you turn off Anastasia's location on her iPad as well as blocking Natasha's number. it would actually stop her from finding you, but you don't want her having immediate access to Anastasia, not right now. Natasha flops down into her office chair pouring another glass of alcohol, she's lost track of how many she's had, she doesn't care she'll take anything to numb her pain. Natasha drowns her thoughts in the glass of whiskey, drinking her problems away seem to be a better option right now than to constantly blow up your phone or to randomly pop up at your hotel room furthering the fear her daughter now has of her. She unlocks a drawer in her desk with shaky hands she retrieves a heavy file, and as she opens it a few photos fall onto the floor.

She doesn't pick those up, she spreads the Polaroid photos out across her desk. Each picture is of her through the years with a new bruise or injury. each photo holds a different story, a different reason for each bruise, black eye or broken bone. Those are photos you took of her, photos that she asked you to take, no matter how many times you denied. You did what she requested. She kept them. She kept the reminder of what she went through and here she is exhibiting the same behavior towards her daughter. Nastasha doesn't notice it immediately but the drop of fallen tears hitting her cherry wood desk makes her aware. She is crying. She hurt her daughter, not only emotionally but physically. Natasha feels sick to her stomach, she doesn't know how to make this up she doesn't even know if she should have the privilege of being a mom. Would her daughter hate her for the rest of her life? Would you leave and take Anastasia from her for good? and the bigger question is Can she be forgiven?

#mini burden au #natasha romanoff x reader #mob!natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x oc! daughter

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apteryxparvus · 5 months ago

Text

AITA for exposing my pro volleyball player boyfriend's monster addiction on r/fridgedetective?

Pairing — Suna Rintarou / Reader

Word count — 2,046

Content warning — none

Summary — When you accidentally expose your boyfriend for hoarding an ungodly amount of Monster energy drinks in his mini fridge, the internet takes it and runs wild.

You don’t think twice when you head to your boyfriend’s mini-fridge. Suna always keeps a stash of snacks and drinks in there for late-night movie marathons, and you’re desperately craving a fizzy hit of Ramune soda. But when you open the fridge…

Monster Energy.

Monster Energy everywhere.

You don’t even spot the soda you’re looking for. Just rows upon rows of neon cans stacked like Tetris blocks, along with an alarming number of Chuupets squished in the corners. Who needs this much caffeine and sugar?

The fridge hums ominously, as if judging you for your surprise.

Naturally, you take a picture and post it.

For science.

You don’t expect much. Maybe 10 or 20 upvotes, and a couple of comments from bored strangers confirming that, yes, Suna’s energy drink consumption is borderline criminal. After all, it’s just a silly post on a silly subreddit, nothing to lose sleep over.

But when you groggily check your Reddit account the next morning, your notifications are wild. It’s not just a handful of upvotes—it’s thousands. Your post isn’t just trending on r/fridgedetective; it’s made the Reddit front page.

There’s an overwhelming flood of comments, many of them calling out your boyfriend by name. A part of you wants to laugh—because, really, how did they guess so fast?—but another part of you is too scared to even open Twitter or any other social media platform. You just know someone has screenshotted it and blasted it across the internet; probably with a wild caption like: “Suna Rintarou EXPOSED by his own partner”.

The sheer absurdity hits you like a train. Your boyfriend’s unhealthy obsession with energy drinks and frozen treats has gone viral. Your boyfriend has gone viral.

And, at this point, you’re not sure if you should wake him up to warn him, or just quietly pack your things and go into witness protection.

Among the chaos of Reddit notifications, your phone buzzes with a few messages. A quick glance tells you it’s from two very predictable sources.

Kita: Just empty the fridge and restock it with healthy food. He’ll grumble, but it’s for the best.

Atsumu: WOW I CAN’T BELIEVE U TATTLED ON MY BOY LIKE THAT 💀💀💀

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Against your better judgement, you open the Inarizaki High alumni group chat—and immediately regret it.

Atsumu is clearly living for this. You should’ve known better.

He’s on a rampage, flooding the chat with screenshots from Twitter.

"Suna's fridge contents have NO BUSINESS being this cursed."

"Suna Rintarou EXPOSED for his crimes against hydration."

"Monster sponsorship when???"

It’s one caption after another, each one wilder than the last. You groan, burying your face in your pillow, as if that could block out the chaos unfolding on your screen. You can practically hear Atsumu’s wheezy cackles through the text, and his twin brother, Osamu, is doing nothing to help—just spamming the chat with popcorn emojis like he’s front row at the circus.

You sigh, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you prepare to grill Atsumu for being the absolute worst at 7 AM. But before you can type a single word, the bed shifts.

Suna groans softly, stirring beside you. His arm slides over your waist, pulling you closer as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck.

“Mm, what’s with all the buzzing?” he mumbles, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Nothing,” you lie, way too quickly, throwing your phone across the bed like it’s radioactive. You lean in to press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry, just go back to sleep.”

It almost works. Almost. But your phone keeps vibrating obnoxiously—no doubt Atsumu is still spamming the group chat with screenshots and whatever unhinged commentary he’s decided to add. You curse yourself for not muting him earlier, but now it’s far too late.

Suna groans again, this time with the exasperation of someone who just wants five more minutes of peace. He shifts, reaching for the phone you so desperately tried to avoid.

“Why’s Atsumu spamming the group chat so early?” he asks groggily, his thumb already swiping across the screen.

“No reason!” you blurt out, sitting up too quickly. “You don’t need to check—”

But it’s too late. The moment Suna opens the chat, his expression shifts. His sleepy indifference hardens into something sharper.

Betrayal.

Two days later, you’re settled into your couch, blanket wrapped snug around your shoulders, laptop propped up on your knees. Kodzuken’s stream is set to start in fifteen minutes, and if you’re going to survive whatever chaos the streamer’s chat is inevitably bound to bring, you’re going to need a heavy caffeine boost.

Your eyes slowly drift to the mini fridge in the corner.

You’ve been trying to avoid it ever since the whole incident. But you cannot deny the itch for something cold and fizzy to keep you awake. There’s a moment of hesitation as you chew on your lip, before you finally stand up and pad over.

“Okay… alright,” you mumble to yourself, hand hovering over the handle. “It’s just a fridge. How bad can it be?”

You pull it open.

And the sight nearly makes you drop to your knees.

Gone is the chaotic hoard of neon green Monster Energy cans and suspicious, almost-melted chuupets. Instead, the shelves are pristine, almost squeaky white, gleaming as if the fridge belongs to some sort of soda commercial. And every single slot has been replaced with your favorite soda flavor.

Each glass bottle has a sticky note attached to it, the handwriting unmistakably Suna’s—slightly tilted to the right and a little lazy, like he couldn’t quite be bothered but also cared just enough.

The first note you pick you reads: “I’m doing this for you, even though it hurts 💔💔.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you pick up another bottle, the condensation slick against your palm. This note reads: “Please don’t post me online again 😔💔.”

A third one in the far back reads: “I hope you’re happy. My dignity is in shambles.”

You choke back a laugh, clutching the bottle to your chest like it’s some sort of love letter.

Everything is just absurd. Dramatic. Completely unnecessary.

But so him.

Kenma’s notification pings from your laptop, reminding you his stream is starting soon. But for a moment, you just stand there, bathed in the soft glow of the fridge light, staring at the ridiculous display of Ramune bottles and heartfelt stickies.

Dinner is a quiet affair, save for the occasional clink of chopsticks against bowls and the soft fizz that Suna’s Ramune soda makes as he takes a long, dramatic sip. You can’t help but glance at him as your phone buzzes with another notification from the group chat.

The #monstersmvp hashtag Atsumu created is still going strong.

You unlock your phone, and cover your mouth trying to stifle a laugh—Atsumu’s latest spamming spree is a trainwreck you cannot look away from.

“What now?” Suna asks, voice flat as he picks at his food.

“‘tsumu keeps sending the eulogies from the hashtag. Ready to hear the best of the best?”

“No,” your boyfriend deadpans, taking another slow, deliberate sip of the fizzy drink.

Ignoring him, you start reading anyway. “Okay, here goes,” you clear your throat, holding the phone up dramatically. “Rest in power: Gone but never forgotten. Suna’s energy drink hoard was a beacon of poor nutritional choices and excessive caffeine addiction. Taken from us far too soon by the merciless hand of justice (a.k.a. his girlfriend). May its legacy live on in vending machines and gas station coolers everywhere.”

Suna rolls his eyes, but you can see the corners of his mouth subtly twitching, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you say, scrolling further. “It wasn’t Suna’s blocks that made him a true legend. No, it was his fridge full of Monsters. The stash stood as a tall, proud monument to his dedication to caffeine and chaos, but alas, all good things must come to an end. In lieu of flowers, please send Ramune soda.”

He takes another slow sip of his soda, gaze fixed on you over the rim of the bottle. “These people are unhinged.”

“You mean your fans are unhinged,” you correct, waving your phone at him. “You brought this on yourself, you know.”

He sets the bottle down, resting his chin in his hand as he smirks at you, that lazy, infuriating smirk that makes your heart skip a beat even when you’re annoyed with him. “You’re awfully invested in this for someone who caused the whole mess.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who kept a hoard of energy drinks like some kind of cryptid!”

“And you’re the one who made it go viral.”

Suna shakes his head, clicking his chopsticks. “If I ever get my stash back, I’m putting a padlock on that fridge.”

“Sure,” you tease, scrolling through the wall of text messages. “But you’ll have to bribe me first.”

The morning after starts with the doorbell buzzing like it’s got a personal grudge against your sleep. You groan, burrowing deeper into the blankets as Suna mumbles incoherently beside you.

“Are you gonna get that?” you ask, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Nope,” he replies, eyes still closed.

The buzzing continues, persistent and annoying, until you finally throw the blankets off with a groan. “Fine, I’ll do it. But if it’s Atsumu, I’m kicking him.”

Shuffling to the door in your pajamas, you swing it open, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind. Instead, you’re greeted by two delivery people dressed in head-to-toe Monster Energy attire. Hats, shirts, gloves—even their shoes have the Monster logo.

“Delivery for Suna Rintarou?” one of them says, all too chipper for this ungodly hour.

Behind them is a massive, industrial-sized fridge wrapped in black and neon green, the Monster Energy logo glowing ominously on the front.

You blink. “You’re joking.”

“We’re not,” the other delivery person says, already wheeling the monstrosity closer.

You stand frozen as they maneuver the fridge through the door, parking it in the middle of your living room like it belongs there. By the time Suna wanders out from your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the delivery people are gone, and the fridge looms like some sort of otherworldly deity.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Your consequences, clearly,” you grumble.

“You think it comes pre-stocked?”

You stay quiet, keeping your distance from the fridge as if your glare alone might short-circuit the thing. If you got too close, you’d be tempted to whack it with something—like the baseball bat you keep by the door in case of emergencies.

Suna, unbothered by your lack of answer, wanders closer, hand lazily brushing against the neon logo before gripping the handle. He looks back at you with a smirk.

The door creaks open.

Even though the fridge isn’t even on, it’s packed to the brim with dozens upon dozens of Monster cans. Shelves sag under the weight of every imaginable flavor—there are classics, tropical blends, tea-infused hybrids, even some cans with foreign text that scream exclusive import.

“How is this fridge even stocked? It’s not on.” You can’t hold back the groan. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Look at this,” Suna says, picking up a can with a holographic label. He holds it up like it’s some kind of treasure. “I didn’t even know this flavor existed.”

“Put it back,” you say, your voice sharp. “I’m gonna set it on fire, I swear."

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he grabs another can, then another. “They’ve got the white pineapple, the tea blend... oh, and the zero-calorie peach! This is insane.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind.” You bury your face in your hands, trying to process the sheer audacity of the situation. “Who does this?!”

“There, there,” Suna teases, patting your back. “Want a sip?” he asks, cracking open a random can.

You glare at him, contemplating the consequences of slamming the door shut on both the cans and his smug face. Instead, you stomp to the couch, plopping down, and muttering, “I’m calling ‘tsumu. This has his name written all over it.”

Suna’s laughter echoes through the living room, followed by the distinct hiss of him opening yet another can.

Author's note: phew, editing the Reddit posts took ages 🤧 please ignore any discrepancies between the profile pictures of the users pls

i’ll marry whoever buys me a fully stocked redbull fridge, no questions asked

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu x you #suna x you #haikyuu x y/n #suna x y/n #haikyuu imagines #suna imagines

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