#my smut playlist is literally just songs about sex

[hoseoksluna]

SOJU | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. hobi)

genre: heavy angst, heavy smut

word count: 10.4k

summary: jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

playlist: soju / pinterest board: wine

warnings: sex flashbacks, alcohol consumption, jungkook is drunk emotional and a mess, jealousy, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), almost heavy dd/lg themes, plushie used during intercourse, inner child healing, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f. receiving), ass play and nipple play, provocation, dirty talk, hair pulling, dry humping, rough sex, overstimulation, pain felt during intercourse, jungkook instructs reader like the teacher he is, pet names and one particular title used, squirting, praise kink, jungkook is mean and cruel and just so horny

note: i will never forget this fic. never. this is the third part of 'wine' and therefore the very end to this adventitious series. even though, this part has a little bit information and quirks in it from the other two fics, it's fine to read as a standalone, but i do recommend reading all three parts as they interlink and you can beautifully see the process and the change of their relationship. i want to thank the lovely soul who asked me to make this a series because writing this made me incredibly happy—and all the themes i used mean the world to me. i also want to thank all of you for reading and for all the love. i hope you like this as much as i do. please, heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that not everyone can be comfortable with. with that being said, enjoy your reading and let me know what you think, let me know your favorite parts. ᡣ𐭩

side note: drunk 3D jungkook being all mean, dominant and daddy is, quite literally, the epitome of my sexuality.

Jungkook will always be a man of his word.

It’s the foundation that keeps his back straight as he leads you through the crowd. The core of the whole promise is the very strength of his fingers as they clasp around your much smaller hand because he notices, under the washed out lights of red and violet, that you’re the center of attention.

He feels as though he’s dragging the hand of a child like a protective father. Except, he has the impulsive need to cover you with his body.

It’s a blasting alarm within the ear splitting chaos of his mind. Louder than the modern music he cares little for; louder than the song of the hard, quickening beats of his heart that he’s unable to ignore. He promised he’d make it up to you about the party because he’d made you drunk with lust. Now that he’s taken you here, he’d much rather be back home with you. Wouldn’t even have the need to seduce you—he just doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want you to be the apple of everyone’s eye.

Sweat glistens on the planes of his forehead.

Jungkook returns every inquisitive look of people he doesn’t know with a stern furrow of his brows. Figures he needs a drink; figures he needs his hyung, at least one familiar face among strangers.

A strong one, to calm the storm within, and a big hug from the host himself.

He hates people.

Leading you to the makeshift bar of spirits in the kitchen, he has a protective hand over the small of your back as you climb on the bar stool. Watches as your ass lifts over the leather and almost jumps out of his own skin when the outsole of your high-heeled shoe slips on the footrest and you fall back onto the chair with a thud. A precious set of treble giggles billow out of your mouth, followed by a reassuring flick of your hand that you’re okay, and Jungkook’s own hand trembles when he lifts it off your back. While you open your purse to reapply your lip gloss, he hides behind his tight, feigned smile the need to run and calm his breathing.

His irises wander over the contents of that purse of yours. Finds a long brown pencil there, your phone, a pack of cigarettes with a purple lighter and a ring of keys adorned with the tiniest Hello Kitty he’s ever seen. No wallet, no cash tucked beneath. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, hand acting out of its own will—coming over to your long hair, smoothing it down as you focus on lining your lips with another set of glitter and pinkness. Perhaps the gesture is owed to the proudness he feels due to the fact you’re expecting to be provided for throughout the night, wherever it takes you both after this party. Blurred within is the smugness that he’s the reason you’re dolling yourself up again because he couldn’t help but make a mess of your mouth in the car. It makes his cock grow tight in his pants.

He wears the smugness all over his features. From the gleaming cosmos in his eyes, to the smudged kiss stains of all the roses in the world scattering over his nose and cheeks, down to the deepening smirk. He thinks he’d buy you anything your eyes would linger a heartbeat longer on, with snacks included in case you’d get hungry, as he silently praises you for your good behavior, for that smart brain of yours by the brush of his hand down your hair. A sick part of him wants to even get in debt for you for the pure fun of it—the fun being the primal core of your wishes and needs being gratified, for your satisfaction to shine through the veins on your skin like little sun rays, all while having the time of your life on the night out he promised you.

He’s not afraid to admit he’d do anything for you as long as it stays safely stashed within his system. Can’t risk voicing it out. Can’t risk you knowing. Can’t risk shit.

Studying the shape of your lips as you hold up a small heart-shaped mirror, he twirls the ends of your hair as he waits for you to be done to ask you what you want to drink. Is reminded of the way those pillows wrapped around the straw of the banana milk you brought for him the last time he saw you. Of the way they sucked his fingers when he used them for lubrication to rub your clit while he was fully buried inside your tight, dew-sprinkled cunt. He suddenly feels hot under his collar.

He’s a slave to flashbacks. Always has been.

The celestial concoction of your needy moans and his, kept safe within the confines of his car, loop in his brain. The look of agonized lust when he bit your bottom lip in a heated kiss that he soon alleviated with the swipe of his tongue, with the suction of his lips that begged him to take more of you. Jungkook hears it as if there wasn’t any music at all, as if its thrumming wasn’t enveloping the corridors of his panic-stricken heart. He hears your words, embellished by those giggles of yours, in his ears all over again: “Stop, you’re making me horny. We should go inside.” His own, too: “You dance better for me when your panties are wet. I know you do.” Sees again, as if the moment is happening again and you’re standing in front of him, the way you reacted to his hands warming up your sides in the cold after you stumbled out of his car. Sighing softly, glossy eyes whirling upwards to the drowsy sky full of quivering stars, tipsy on the desire he’s obsessed with awakening in you while being tipsy just the same. The smile rising on your lips when he asked: “Show me how you’re gonna dance for me.” The way you moved your hips in such a silly way that squeezed his heart until it was difficult to breathe.

He’s fucked. Knows he is. Has known it for a while now.

You’re the origin of the chaos within his mind. The body of it itself. He has a teeny-tiny version of you in his mind that lives there, and lives there well because he feeds her, brushes her hair and gives her kisses, despite the storm.

He could never tell you—how much he thinks about you daily.

To a certain extent, he almost did the last time you came around, in a frenzy of sensuality and pent-up desire that consumed him. Prayed you didn’t see it for the way it really was.

It’s not just lust, and it’s more than just a friendship.

He figured as much—doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it. 

Not a single one. Especially not when you pucker your lips at him and screw the applicator back into the tube. 

He doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t ever want to lose the sight of that pucker of yours. And he fears that if he tells you of his weakness for you, he might never see it again.

So, he opts to keep things safe, keep things casual. That is until he eventually bursts.

That’s another promise, too. 

He pulls on one of your strands. Your head knocks back, eyes wide at the audacity of it all. He laughs at your reaction.

“Can you stop?”

Jungkook does it again just to see the shock written over your face, full on belly laughing.

“What the fuck?” You slap his shoulder, the impact so small he barely feels it. “You want me to pull your hair, too?”

He grabs his stomach. “No, what I want to know is what you wanna drink.”

You purse your lips in feigned anger, fingers outstretched by the back of his head to play-pull his hair or perhaps slap him into oblivion. If you could manage it. 

He doesn’t think you could. 

He goes around you to sit beside you on the bar stool, studying the bottles of liquor his hyung bought. Is ignorant to the way you’re studying him, to the way the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly at the discovery of the current situation in his intimate parts. 

Pulls out one to acknowledge himself with it. Asks you if you wanna drink it. 

You don’t say anything. 

When Jungkook lifts his eyes to scold you for not paying attention, all the words get hitched in his throat. You’re grinning from ear to ear. All those damned words are forgotten immediately. 

“Are you hard?” you whisper, flushed at the face, glossy eyes glimmering, ever so excited about your discovery. 

He feels himself twitch. Hides it by cupping himself discreetly. 

Averts his eyes. “I’m always hard around you,” he mutters, twisting the bottle open. “I’ve gotten used to it.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he pours you a shot, but he focuses on the way your breathing gains speed. Fights the smile threatening his lips caused by how easy it is to provoke you. 

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re hasty as you ask, looking around you, inspecting which room you could use to drag him into and relieve him of his problem, but he assures you it’s no problem at all with a curt shake of his head. 

Strangely, he found a way to like the tension in his pants. Thinks it digs deep into the depth of the moment—simply makes it more exciting. 

“We just got here,” Jungkook says flatly, screwing the lid back on. “Don’t be rude.” 

He filled your shot to the brim not necessarily with the intention to make you drunk as fast as he can, but to watch your eyes widen the way they do so sweetly. And you don’t disappoint him at all when you do just that, the smile on your lips blossoming still. An aura of shyness envelops you in softness due to his disapproving words and Jungkook realizes he grazed your submission by reprimanding you. While it magnifies his smugness, he feels a little bit bad for you. Knows how much it turns you on when his fatherliness looms out, but blames you for it nonetheless. You rouse it in him.

You may have never told him about your father wounds, but his instincts sensed it in you—sought it out like its own child and cradled it in his arms, promising to never let go.

Promise. There it is again.

He wants to spend the rest of his life promising you things. Doesn’t matter what. He just wants the security, the cord of trust, that you’ll be here; that you’ll be here for a long time. It truly doesn’t matter if he promises you things internally or outwardly.

Jungkook cups your chin. Wants to say something. Wants to reassure you that you can take the shot, encourage you a tiny bit. But what you say to him dries up his throat completely.

“You don’t want a blowie?”

Your words were a mere silky noise, but he heard you. Curled his fingers tight into fists in order not to bend you over the bar stool and take you right then and there in front of everyone.

Decides he will provoke you right back.

“You don’t want a lickie?” he murmurs, drawing close to you so you’re the only one who hears him. “You don’t want Daddy’s tongue on your little clit?”

You gasp and grip his knee, your legs intuitively spreading.

Jungkook skims his surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. When the coast is clear—people mindlessly mingling, having conversations—he hovers his lips against your ear, hand coming in between your legs, not to touch you but to cover you. Whispers, “or you don’t want Daddy’s tongue fucking you fast? Licking over your little ass? Hm, you don’t know how good that feels yet, do you?”

You’re holding in a sob—Jungkook sees it in the way your eyes and lips round, brows furrowing. He made you wet. Serves you right.

He pulls away to pour you a chaser. Asks which one you want.

You take a deep breath, flicking your hair back. “Coca cola,” you chirp, despite the deathly grip you have on his knee, perhaps to hold your sanity together, other fingers wrapping around the shot. Small, so fitting for an equally small glass.

Jungkook laughs. Loves it. Loves…

The realization, of what he almost granted access to within his system, strangles his heart. He hears nothing for a moment, not the music, not the tremor of his weak heart. Nothing.

A can of Coke waits for you behind the bar on the kitchen counter and before any thought flicks through his brain, Jungkook stands to his feet to fetch it for you—to get his blood pumping again so he can gain control of his senses. It scares him, the nothingness. Even his eyes fail to focus as he looks for the metallic red can he swore he saw hardly a minute ago. He feels a slap on his back and a familiar face, at last, comes into view. 

Hobi. 

The first thought that resurfaces is filled with thankfulness enveloping around that name, dispersed with tiny kisses of ‘you saved me, hyung’. Jungkook dives head-first into the offering hug of his savior, his senses returning to him like magnets attaching to metal. He takes in a deep breath as if he was under water and just came up for air. 

“So glad to see you,” Hobi says, rubbing his back. 

Jungkook squeezes his shoulder. Says something that doesn’t reflect what he truly wants to say, keeps up the small talk while burying under layers upon layers of mud the confession that he almost told himself he loved you. 

Which reminds him that he didn’t introduce you.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jungkook says, grabbing the can of Coke his eyesight is now clear enough to spot and an empty, tall glass for you. Guides his friend to where you’re sitting but what he sees almost makes him jump out of his own skin for the second time in the span of an hour—almost sobs tearfully at the unfortunate discovery. 

A mop of dirty blonde curls shaking at the impact of his laughter as he whispers sweet nothing into the shell of your ear. He towers from behind you, compressing you in the muscly width of his half-barren chest. An electricity of anguish spasms down the course of Jungkook’s body, for in a flash he’s reminded of the way you towered above him just the same the last time. His sweat cools as you listen to him, a pang after pang of jealousy stinging him in his abdomen. He’s frozen on the spot—Hobi says something, but Jungkook can’t hear him—that is until you make a face of discomfort.

Jungkook sees red. 

His heart slams hard against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel its intention to break his ribcage. 

The words unfurl out of his tight mouth before he can think them through. “Can I fucking help you?” he hisses through his teeth, setting the glass and the can down harshly. The noise makes you jump, which instantly drives him to regret his actions—and it puts an end to his rage.

He didn’t mean to scare you. Doesn’t want you to regard him this way. 

The sudden softness welcomes his senses back with a gentle beckoning.

Lifting his eyes, the guy ignores the question. Whispers something again that forces you to pierce your stare into the fire that burns within Jungkook’s irises. Not the fire he let you see throughout the trajectory of your casual relationship, the blue, the dreamily sultry one. 

The one that licks over his eyes is black. Pitch black. No sign of stars, no dots of reflection of light. Pure pitch black.

But you hold his gaze, unafraid of the darkness.

For a reason unknown to him, it ignites you with strength to shove raggedy Barbie Ken away. Your touch lingers on his chest for a mere second and is not as scorching as the bite of your words: “Yes, I’m here with him and I’m not interested in you. Go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at the guy. Doesn’t give two shits about the painful twists of his features as he staggers away. Forgets about Hobi; forgets about the questioning looks of strangers digging into his back. All he sees is you. All he hears is the sigh of relief once he’s gone. And Jungkook is hasty as he reaches for you, relieved himself—relieved that he didn’t have to fight the fucker and alter the trust you have in him—needing you close, needing to gain back his control. He’s almost smiling uncomfortably at the ridiculous twist of events, but then the tug of his mouth stills.

You slip out of his grasp and move past him.

There’s silence within Jungkook’s ribcage. Not one beat or flutter, not one kick.

Nothing.

***

Knocking back shots after shots, Jungkook remains silent. Doesn’t answer any of his hyung’s questions. Doesn’t look at any of the girls who sashay to Hobi’s thigh to chitchat. His gaze merely remains fixed on the empty glass of the chaser he never had the chance to pour you. 

Your shot of the dark liquor is also left untouched. 

It’s the twinge of pity he feels that gives the order to his feet to rise. Hobi grabs his arm, long fingers digging into the hard leather of his jacket. Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate his stare, despite its heavy energy. Keeps his head low instead. 

“Give her more time,” Hobi says, lugging him down to a seated position but Jungkook untangles out of his grip. 

Grabs a bottle of soju as he mutters, “half an hour is more than enough.” 

He makes a way through the corridor towards the door you slinked into, the translucent bottle swinging by his jean-clothed thigh. Doesn’t knock on the wood, instead walks straight in as if he owned the place.

You’re sitting by the foot of the bed. The yellowness of the subdued bedside lamp drapes your sagged shoulders in gold, filtering through your hair that obscures your face. You had taken off your shoes and they lie crooked and alone by your stocking-clad feet. Jungkook wonders if that’s how you feel. 

His weakness caused by the unfortunate events and the sadness engulfing you stops him from moving a step closer to you as he beholds your puny form, but Jungkook fights it—fights for you. He needs to be in control. Of his own body and emotions, no matter how strenuous he finds it. He needs to be strong—and he needs to be strong for you to make things right.

He clicks the door shut behind him. As he walks towards you, he opens the bottle of soju with the firmness of his phone and takes a long sip. Settles in between your legs on the ground, crossing his legs at the ankles. Probs you on the calf to make his presence known to you, cooing your name. 

You sniff your nose, gathering your hair to the side, curling the shorter pieces behind your ear. Your face glistens from the rivers of tears he wasn’t there to wipe away, cheeks flushed from all the onrush of emotions that wasn’t of the coy or sensuous kind he likes so much. The hard stone of his heart cracks at your broken countenance and the back and forth swipe of his fingers on the nylon of your stocking grows more tender the more he takes in your sadness. He wishes to inhale it, rid you of it once and for all. Thinks it doesn’t belong to you. Wants to fight the guy, make you laugh—make a fool out of himself—and make love to you. Wants all of those things at the same time, but he realizes he can’t tear himself apart.

He decides being here is enough. He can fix whatever has been broken here in Hobi’s room. 

“This is so fucked up, Jungkook.” 

You’re the first one to break the silence and it takes a slight weight off of his shoulders. Jungkook hums, prompts you to speak further on what hurts your heart. Wraps his entire hand around the muscle of your calf, thumb tracing figures of eight on your skin. 

The warmth helps you look him in the eye, but you don’t say anything else. 

Jungkook figures it’s his turn.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he says softly, hand drifting down to cradle the heel of your lifted foot. You’re mine, he doesn’t add. 

Your mouth rounds once again in a wave of emotion that clutches you. You don’t let the tears fall, looking up to the ceiling so the little pearls don’t trickle out of your tear ducts. Jungkook notices puffy marks of darkness under your bottom lashes, where he swore he saw thin pathways of glitter, small shooting stars traveling around the globe of your eyes. They’re nowhere to be found now, you’ve rubbed them away. 

“I know, it’s not about that.” You sniff, hands hooking under the hem of your skirt just to have something to hold onto, to busy your fingers a little—as if he wasn’t right there. “I think I kinda get you know.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that asks you to enlighten him, taking a swig of the sweet liquor to aid him in forgetting what he didn’t say. But the more he drinks, the more he remembers—the more his feelings splutter to life. It’s like he didn’t drink a drop at all. 

“I never understood why you need to be in control all the time,” you start, fixing your gaze on his. “But I finally did when that guy had his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I wished I had even a small bit of control in that moment when I was alone. I hated feeling like I had to endure it when all I wanted to do was run away.” You break apart at your last words and Jungkook’s world crumbles in his hands. 

There’s chaos in his mind. A chaos of selfish nature that wants to prove you wrong because no, he doesn’t have any control when it comes to you, when you’re dressed, perfect and broken altogether. He doesn’t have shit—he’s nothing. A complete mess. And perhaps it’s his bruised heart that acts out despite this self-pitying mayhem grappling him, shutting it out into eternal darkness, for Jungkook doesn’t even know how he does it when he pulls you down onto his lap by a careful drag of your legs and encases you within the heated snugness of his arms.

He doesn’t even understand his own words when he says, “You can take all of mine. It’s yours.”

Jungkook doesn’t care about anything at all because when you start to sob into his shoulders, he breaks along with you—bursts at the seams completely. 

“I know you were scared, but that won’t happen again. Not when I give you all of my control.” His words are smooth amidst the stream of his liquid emotions and Jungkook is glad for it—glad to be a pillar you can lean on. He imagines transferring all of his being, not just his control, to you like a blanket draping around your shoulders, so the situation never happens again. 

His tears soak your hair strands and they carry his sorrowful kiss to the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to utter a sound, wants to remain strong, but his heavy exhales betray him, wafting against you as he tightens his grip around your violently shuddering body in effort to soothe it. Considers this moment to be yours alone, doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to be there for you.

“You helped me when I saw you,” you say against his skin, the sound muffled but he hears you—tightens his lips in a firm line in order not to wail. “When I saw that you were there, I was strong enough to push him away. You were my backup, Jungkook.” 

He agrees with a soft sound, rocking you back and forth as he cradles you. Leans his head against the side of yours, shielding you from the world and its wickedness. 

Your cries quieten. “But I want to be strong even when you’re not there.” 

Jungkook strokes your hair, understands you even when it pains him—his attachment to you pulled so taut he fears it’ll break. “You’re strong now. I gave you my control, didn’t I?”

To his surprise, you nod. 

After you pull away to breathe and Jungkook sweeps your tears away with his thumb, he’s smothered with the reminder that he made a promise to himself—a promise that is on the brink of being fulfilled. 

The walls close in on him, but he doesn’t care. He promised to keep things casual until he bursts. He refuses to go another day pretending you’re just a friend he feels nothing for. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the heavily charged emotions that make the decision for him, but he simply doesn’t care about the outcome anymore. The truth has to come out into the light. 

Jungkook calls you by your name. Brushes your hair back so he can look properly in the faded lush of your eyes; cradles your face in his hands like that. You call him by his name as well, whispering it into the shadows of the room. Such a soft, silky sound that puts pink plasters over the cracks in his heart. He says your name in the same intonation just to get a taste of liberty. 

“I’m yours,” he confesses, a lump forming in his throat, and he’s too late to blink the tears away. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you; since the moment you laid your hands on me. Yours for the taking. My heart, my control—it’s all yours.”

The bridge constricting his throat collapses when you give him a look of endearment, your features softening, rounding in emotion. Jungkook watches as a tear rolls down your cheek; feels an identical one going down the same path on his own skin, fiery and hot. 

“I’m sorry.” He breaks into sobs—and break, break, break is all he does. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay casual, but I can’t… and-and I can’t let you go. I can’t let anyone else have you.” 

You bunch the material of his wife-beater in your fists under his jacket, mewling tender weeping sounds. Jungkook bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling in your hands, needing you to say something, anything, so he can straighten his back and call it a night. You bury your head in his chest  and Jungkook lulls you to calmness while needing it himself. He suddenly feels alone. Alone and crooked like your shoes, as if he said the wrong thing, as if he didn’t deserve any reassurement, any love for what he just did—

You mumble something into his skin. 

His heart jumps. 

“I didn’t catch that, baby.” 

You lift your head, clutching the sides of his neck. “I like you, too, Jungkook.” 

Your words tell him a lot of things. 

He didn’t make a mistake tonight. He didn’t do anything bad, didn’t lose you for the rest of his life. He will see that pucker of yours for the months to come, your glitter and all your shooting stars will be there to guide him home. 

And the other thing is—he fell for you first. Because while you like him, he absolutely and irrevocably loves all of who you are. 

He smiles at you, though. The bridge takes the heft on his shoulders along with it and disperses into nothingness. He wants to thank you. He wants to thank you for the kindness you expressed towards him, for your hands that hold him. And he does by kissing you, by inhaling you, taking away all your sadness and the bad events that caused it. 

“You mean a lot to me,” you say against his lips, pretty wet eyelashes fluttering. Jungkook feels their dewiness; wants to feel yours, too. There’s a pout to his mouth as he listens to you. “You changed my life. You make it better.” He nods at your words, senses them opening a window in his heart to let the fresh air in. “I don’t ever wanna lose you, Gguk. You’re too important.” 

He almost says it. Those three words. But he keeps them stored within the now brisk chamber of his heart, full of spring. Flowers grow, in place of the plasters. 

Jungkook caresses your cheek. “I want to make you forget.” 

You beam at him—and there he feels it, the pulse of his heart, its song and its steady, balmy notes. 

“Make me forget about tonight, please.” 

He kisses you, adds in a million tiny pecks in between, sliding his tongue inside your mouth in brief greeting. His fingers blindly find the bottle of Soju and when he withdraws with a pop, he presents it to you. 

“Look at what I got you,” Jungkook says, chuckling. 

You wrap your hand around his on the bottle and he tips it to your mouth, helping you drink it. You widen your eyes at him when he wants you to drink more than you do, and he lowers his hand with a grin. Loves those eyes of yours. Loves your mouth as he wipes it clean with his thumb. 

It’s lighthearted, the state of his emotions. He had tasted liberty by fondly mimicking your intonation, but now it courses through his veins, now it’s his. He feels so very glad to be alive at this moment and he wants to celebrate in the only way he knows he can. 

“I got you another thing as well, but it’s back home,” Jungkook says. “I can’t drive but we can take an Uber.” 

“Let’s go.” 

Jungkook straps your heels, fixes your skirt and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to rid you of black mascara stains. Offering you his hand, you take his pinky and ring finger and he leads you out of the room with you following behind. He skims the living room to find Hobi but, again, he’s nowhere in sight until you tap his shoulder and point to the right side of the corridor. Hobi is rising to his feet from sitting on the stairs. The thought of his hyung staying around for him instead of enjoying the party squeezes his heart in gratitude. He hugs him and when it’s your turn to say your goodbye, Hobi pulls you in for a hug as well, rubbing your back as he asks you if you’re okay. 

The soju remains in your hand. Sitting on the curb outside, both of you finish it while waiting to be picked up with Jungkook’s hand on your thigh and rough kisses shared in between. The wind doesn’t dare to disturb the intimacy, but watches on with a fond care, the stars hanging low, peeking through to witness at least one good thing of the night. 

***

“If this breaks me out, I’m gonna kill you.” 

Jungkook is carefully tender as he drags the makeup wipe along the perimeters of your cheeks, scowling at the sun-filled tint coloring the whiteness of the wet cloth. He had spent half an hour choosing the right brand in the drugstore earlier in the morning because he decided you were going to sleep over without telling you, reading each small letter on the packaging, despite the fact he understood shit. 

You’re still clothed and so is he, resting in the middle of the comfort of his bed as he hovers above you, knees perched at the foot of the bed. The aching ball of your own foot grazes the bulge in his intimate parts and Jungkook himself is at wonder how he’s able to focus when it stimulates all of his senses, adding heat to his body. 

“It’s Korean, it won’t break you out,” he mutters, swiping along the underside of your eye with extra care. 

“I once had a toner that—”

Jungkook covers your mouth with his palm. “It’s Korean,” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you. 

You giggle and he drops his glower, beaming down at you. 

“You know I can do it myself. I’m not that drunk.”

He focuses on your forehead now, cleaning off your foundation and all those sparkles. 

“I know you can, but let me.”

You babble on and Jungkook decides he’s had enough of it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m gonna shut you up.” 

He dumps the makeup wipe on your face and rummages through his bedside drawer. While you use it to cleanse off your neck, Jungkook spoils your surprise and opens your present. Is discreet as he smuggles it between your legs, pressing it against your clothed clit. 

The soft vibrations spread throughout his whole hand. He increases the intensity. 

You freeze, flicking your eyes to his, makeup wipe long forgotten. You roll your hips against the toy. 

“Oh my god.” 

Serves you fucking right. 

“Keep talking,” Jungkook mutters. “Hm, keep fucking talking and dare to come.” 

It’s maniacal, his laugh, but gentle and amorous in nature because he fucking loves you, loves to tease you, loves to make you feel good—show your body new things that it willingly accepts. You wiggle your hips, chasing the pleasure, mouth fallen open, emitting tiny satiny legato whimpers, which cause his cock to twitch in his pants—so much that he begins to move the purple toy all around your femininity while palming himself. He notices your lack of babbling. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks in feigned sympathy. “You suddenly have nothing to say?” 

You smile at him, and it stops everything. The roleplay of his mean dominance, the vibrations buzzing his hand. He turns the toy off and is straightforward as he says, “undress.” 

Does so himself.

He takes off his leather jacket and unbuttons his pants; watches you as you drag the skirt down those hips he wants nothing more than to kiss and hold in his hands. When it pools around your knees, he chucks the material behind him. You hook your thumbs beneath the waistband of your stockings and Jungkook thinks about how he’d like to tear them apart and make you lose your mind through the hole he’d create as he strokes the outer side of your thigh. He wanted to be gentle with you tonight, but he just can’t help it.

You rouse it him and he just listens. 

His hands are quick as they rip a hole above the center of your rosily pink panties. He smirks at your shocked gasp, so short and dry, drawing close to your pussy, kissing her, nuzzling his face in her. The tension in his intimate parts is almost unbearable when you run your hands through his hair and incite him to do more. He licks over the tiny wet spot on the frail material that he’s the artist of, adding to it, and watches the roll of your eyes because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. It’s a dance what your hips do, the most unkind torture and he longs to squeeze them.

He’s a good boy when it comes to listening to his body’s desires. 

Making a way through the beige hole, ripping it further in the process, he grabs the supple skin, thumbs fondling over your hip bones. So small, so delicious. Jungkook licks his lips, pushes your underwear to the side to reveal your dewy little seashell—fixes it so it stays put. Looks up at you. “Top off. I wanna see those pretty tits.” 

You’re a good girl, too, when it comes to obeying his wishes. 

A praiseful coo ripples out of his mouth once you reveal your black padded bra. Jungkook decides he wants it to be in line of his sight, so he lowers the straps down your arms and merely tugs the undergarment below your breasts. The spillage and the ripple of their fullness almost makes him die right then and there. Jungkook bites his bottom lip until he draws blood.

Two hindrances. The silky straps on your arms, the stockings he will soon lower down your thighs. Jungkook curses under his breath; thinks he should’ve gotten the ropes he was eyeing after his drugstore run. Pink and rough, just the kind you would’ve liked. 

Perhaps it isn’t needed for the lovemaking he longs for with you. Playtime and lovemaking are two different things, he concludes. 

He’s so horny he might lose his mind first. And he does—with nose pressed against your sternum, babbling nonsense while he buries his head in your tits. Inhaling your vanilla and tuberose scent, he kisses the valley leading up to the peak of your stiffened nub, trails it with his tongue, goes the extra mile to suck it into his mouth, hearing its call. He’s just listening—listening to your body language that asks for him. His eyes are blurry when he gazes at you. You’ve fled to the pink planet again, but he wants you here with him. While he flicks your nipple with his nimble tongue, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. Would die for your adorableness. Would go to war for it, a thousand times over. 

Jungkook sucks the nub to make your travel back to Earth faster and he accomplishes what he wants. With a roll of your body and a moan, you’re back, looking down at him, cradling him, brushing his hair back. He makes sure you see the way he toys with your nipple—keeps his mouth open as he circles it, flicks it before he sucks it back inside. 

“Stay here with me,” Jungkook mumbles, switching to the other nipple. “Please.” 

You nod, grinding your hips against his stomach. Another call. Your hands slide lower to his neck and Jungkook understands you want more. 

“Take control of me, baby,” he says. “Flip me over.” 

Your breath is shaky. A light flickers in your eyes, glints like his saliva adorning your nipple in the yellow dimness of the room. You grab a hold of his neck with your one hand like he does to you every time while the other comes around his shoulder and you push him to his back in one swift motion.

Jungkook feels proud. You learn well from him. So studious, so smart, so cute.

You straddle his hips and Jungkook begins to trace your thighs, fingertips gliding back and forth on the nylon, until he grips your hips—and grips them hard. He forces you down on the bulge of his cock, hissing at the pleasure rising up his abdomen. He feels your dewiness against the material of his boxers soaking it through. He guides your hips in a steady but firm rhythm and once you familiarize yourself with it and hump him on your own, he brushes his fingers across your wet nipples. The sensation sends you toppling back, spine arched as you ride him like you rode his Hello Kitty plushie, but Jungkook keeps his fingers on those two little nubs. Your tits bounce and slap against each other and he just follows their movement, squeezing, grazing, leading you to the burst of your climax. When he lets go, you lower your body enough for him to nuzzle his face in them, moving you to the tip of his cock that peeks out of his boxers. The contact of your little soaked clit with his oozing arousal makes Jungkook moan into your skin, and he feels his balls tighten. 

He lets you know by squeezing your arm, as if his furrowed brows, flushed face and the planes of his forehead shining in a layer of sweat weren’t indicating the matter enough. 

You enjoy every second of the torment you bestow upon him, back upright now, fingertip playing with his navel.

Even more so as you flip around and ride him reverse cowgirl style, the nylon of your stockings stretched taut over your ass. Jungkook feels faint.

You’re wearing a thong that is but a thin fabric and would cover absolutely nothing if it were in its right place. He can see your little puckered hole that he’s very hungry for, starved actually, with each backward movement you make. He yanks his boxers down, granting you access to paint his manhood with the loveliness of your shiny dewiness. Grunts at the sloppiness of your flesh gliding back and forth as you toy with his ballsack. On the top of his cock, your juices mix with his—creating a pretty, pretty palette. 

The way your pussy lips barely wrap around his girth, your little breaths and sobs—Jungkook can’t take it. White flashes in his eyesight, the build up of his orgasm nearing the end.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, flicking your hair behind your shoulders as you arch your back, your hair like a waterfall cascading down your spine. 

Jungkook pulls on it, halting your torture. “You’re gonna make me come,” he purrs. “What a waste that would be—for me to come all over my pants like a teenager when your cunnie is right here.” 

He rips your stocking further to reveal more of your ass. Pushes you towards his face until you’re sitting on it and—

He devours you. 

You cry out. The sound propels him to tighten his grip around the small of your back, to quicken the shakes of his head while his tongue stimulates your engorged clit, occasionally flicking against the muscle to hear more of your little noises. Your palm feels up his wet shaft and Jungkook rewards you for being such a good girl that thinks of her Daddy by taking your bundle between his lips and sucking it. Your body quivers, plays tag with his tongue and Jungkook growls, your taste the sweetest thing he’s had all week and he can’t get enough. Needs more, needs…

“Fuck yourself on my tongue.” 

He guides you. Spanks you when you find him. And the sobs you let out, interlaced with the naughtiest of whimpers, make him ache. Your walls press against him—stars fill his vision—and he can’t breathe. Needs you to come, needs a release himself, needs to taste your tiny hole that has never been touched before. 

His hand extends for the purple toy, keeping it on the low setting. He presses it against your clit and the way you tighten around him lets him know you’re soaring; mere seconds away from ascending fully to the pearly gates. 

Jungkook lets you reach your climax on your own, even though his hands itch to grab you and invigorate your thrusts. He wants you to have full control; wants you to get a heady taste of that liberty. 

Wants you to get used to it. 

You slow down your movement and Jungkook hears your cry first before your body begins to convulse. He holds you through your orgasm whilst he rubs the vibrator all over your clit and is ever so fucking mesmerized when he catches your pussy drooling and clenching. 

He aches—aches badly to be inside of you. 

Ridding you entirely of the mere cobwebs that your stockings have become, Jungkook holds your panties in place. His tongue darts out to swipe at your trickling hole, drags it past your skin across the other hole he’s yearning for. He feels you clench; he hears the litany of your incoherent words as you take in the new pleasure. He doesn’t touch your clit—he knows how sensitive it is after such an intense orgasm, so he just drags his tongue up and down both of your holes, swirling around the tight entrance. 

When he penetrates you there, you scream. 

You scream a bunch of yes’ in a row and Jungkook imagines your eyes are rolling back like they always are—imagines a grin on that fucked-out face of yours, eyelashes fluttering and wet with liquid emotions. It drives him to drill his tongue there in faster staccatos, moaning against you; the entirety of his bloodstream flowing to his intimate parts. He’s so hard he might burst, length heavy and solid against his stomach, but it brings him a great deal of pleasure to have you open like this, to taste you in a place no one has ever touched before, to give you a new experience that you’ll remember for a long time and possibly beg him for again. 

He sighs against you, drinking you to relax his jaw. Is drunk on the moment, probably enjoys it more than you do. 

You begin riding his face and he just offers you his tongue. Lets you do whatever you want. 

“Feels so fucking good, Jungkook, oh my god.”

You’re fast now and Jungkook feels proud of you. You’re taking charge, chasing your pleasure. His heart skips a beat when you want him in your ass again, and he willingly obliges, fucking you there until the tremor of your body signals him of the thunder of your approaching orgasm. 

You come on his tongue violently. Shuddering, screaming, leaving his neck, mouth, chin and cheeks wet. Dewiness for tears—he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Turning around, you don’t let him breathe before you grab his face and kiss him, licking into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your own rich flavor. Jungkook reciprocates all of your kisses and swipes of your tongue, doesn’t try to dominate you but instead revels in the nasty kiss, bucking his hips against your heat. So slippery, so fleshy. He grunts into your mouth.

When Jungkook sees your blissed-out face, he grins at you. Is blissed-out himself. “How’s that?” he asks. “You have all of my control. All of it.”

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “so fucking amazing, thank you,” and grin down at him just the same. 

Joy beats through his chest, illuminating him from within as if he had his own tapestry of the whole night sky right there above his heart. 

You sink lower down his thighs and pepper kisses along the length of his sticky cock. The gesture moves him and he lets you stay there for a moment while he briefly ponders over how a paralyzing form of pain led him to such a pure, expanding joy that he feels right now. 

Tears well up in his eyes. 

“Come here,” Jungkook pleads and you lift your head like a puppy. 

He decides that he doesn’t want any restrictions on your body anymore. Each move of his hand is calculated as he unclips your bra and tugs your stockings, along with your underwear, down your legs. Even his own clothes come off in a blink of an eye because all he wants is skin to skin contact, to be connected with you on the deepest, most raw level that there is. 

There’s a bit of nervousness coating his voice when he asks you to ride him due to his vulnerability. And when he feels the beginning of you, your heat encompassing him like the warm wind he last had grazing his body in his summer childhood days, the tears that loom in his eyes rush out. 

It feels like he’s back in those days, but only this time all things are made right. But he can’t lie his head down in that tall grass of his childhood and escape—not when you struggle to take him from the angle you’re not used to.

He doesn’t think he ever let you ride him. Not even once. He apprehends you don’t know how to go about it. 

“I know it hurts from this angle, but you can take it,” he says, willing his voice to be smooth as if he wasn’t crying at all—is thankful for the dimness that obscures his vulnerability from you. “You’ve taken me before, you can do it. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, stay frozen on the spot, and Jungkook can’t see. Filmy vision, emotions hurling at him like an incoming surge of waves. But all of that takes a step back when you mewl a pained noise and let yourself fall on his chest, his cock only a quarter of the way in. 

“I’m scared. It’s too sensitive, it hurts.”

You shift your hips so he slips out of you. Jungkook kisses your forehead, wraps an arm around you while the other travels further down, below the roundness of your cheeks. Makes sure you look at him as he says, “don’t be scared, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.” 

He looks at you for a long while—recognizes only some of your features in the dark—and so do you whilst he lulls you into a state of serenity by humming a song his mother sang to him during those summer days, by petting your head ever so fondly. He never realized how broken his inner child truly was until you kiss his tears away—see them, alas—and the boy inside him leaps into the sun-breathed air of the past. Grows into a young man with a dream in his heart and pensive thoughts beneath the thick set of black hair. Transforms into an adult man with love for a dream instead, for all that has become of his ambitions is the desire to be loved, to be wanted. 

Dream or desire, none of it matters now because all of it, in a strange way that heals him, intermingles with each exhale of your breath against his cheek—and with the inch you think you’re ready to take—all of it is fulfilled. 

A dream come true. A desire gratified. 

You’re his and he is yours. And he tells you. 

You kiss him everywhere. Nose, cheeks, neck. Grab his bunny plushie and tuck him into the crook of his elbow. Jungkook holds onto him as you take another inch, other hand holding his shaft as you sink down little by little, stopping whenever it gets too much. 

“You’ve always taken it so well,” he murmurs onto your pained expression, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I was made for you. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.” 

You clench at his words and the noise that you squeak makes him grunt onto your lips.

“That’s right, baby. I’m so proud of you for trying to take me so well like this when your little pussy is so sensitive from my tongue. You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you?” 

The smile blossoming on your mouth is dangerous with its coyness but confidence at the same time. He falls in love with you all over again, feels the tall grass of his childhood bending over his head, sifting through his hair. 

“I’m doing it for you,” you say. “I want to make you feel good.” 

A hum of appreciation. A kiss full of tongue. “Throw your hips back a little. Just like when we dance.” 

He’s not fully sheathed inside of you, but he feels your gummy walls smothering the half of his length and it’s enough. He doesn’t want to hurt you by filling you to the brim—he’s heedful even as he guides your hips with his hands, rolling them back as if you were grinding against him. Both of you danced like that many times before and because you know the move, you’re comfortable once you latch onto his hands and lift them, intertwining your fingers with his, pinning them down onto the mattress. Your hips gain speed, bouncing on him as your chest lifts a little, hovers above him and the bunny in the middle of his stomach, and Jungkook doesn’t let himself feel pleasure until your eyes lid and turn to the ceiling.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re a fucking”—Jungkook whines at the impact of a distinct hard slam of your hips down on his—“pro. My little fucking pro. Doing so good for me.”

He’s losing it and it’s so quick. The change of energy in the room, the arousal rising like fine dust in the air. All because his words nourished you with confidence that blazes the atmosphere around the bed. It’s just you, him and bunny in this microcosm and Jungkook longs to hold onto the plushie. Feels so much like you when he’s the one in control; feels as though you’ve become one in this emotionally charged act. He can’t differentiate between himself and you anymore. 

He’s simply become you because he loves you. Or has been you the whole time due to that very fact. Perhaps loving someone truly means becoming them because what you learn from them, what you mimic from them is perpetually yours.

An awareness of how tired you must be drifts across his mind. He knows that with each excellent performance comes the burning of the muscles so without thinking twice, he maneuvers you to his favorite position—remaining on his lap with your back against his chest and bunny stacked on top of you. He takes the lead but lets you decide the pace. You’re the boss. “Fast or slow?” 

“Fast.” 

Jungkook hums, raising a brow. “Fast? Cunnie isn’t sensitive anymore?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, propping an arm behind his neck. “I want it fast.” 

It’s simultaneous—the deed of two hands, yours and his, grabbing a hold of the fluffy belly of the plushie, fingers traveling and interlocking without a thought, without a direction, and yet meeting. Like two shooting stars. Like the ones you wear under your bottom lashes. 

One person. One mind, one heart. 

Jungkook taps your belly button with the tip of his cock. You laugh softly. He remembers how wide your eyes were in fear when you sat upright on his lower stomach and could clearly see how far he reached inside of you. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

He sinks his length into your warmth. The grass, the caress of the summer wind. You’re the personification of his childhood and Jungkook kisses you hard, tells you of it by the press of his lips on yours. Is ruthless as he ruts into you. His free hand clutches the vibrator and finds your clit under the small dangling legs of bunny. The low intensity is but a thrum, though by the gasps you emit, by the moans that rise in echoes within the atmosphere, he deduces it’s good. 

Smugness returns, hand in hand with his control. He presses the toy harder against you, rubbing it side to side—and this time he doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop fucking you. 

Vigorous with strength, empowered by the free rein of his emotions that were accepted and loved, he pistons his hard cock into that tightness of yours, regardless whether you can handle it or not. Feels right at home, feels—

“Who’s your Daddy?” he questions without slowing down the rhythm of his brutal pace. “Who’s fucking you this good?” 

You hum, licking your lips, and your confidence fucks with him, strips him bare of any sanity he had left. You give him the eyes, flick your tongue against his lips before you tilt your head to kiss him with a brief passion. “You are.”

Butterflies. 

Jungkook drops the vibrator on the bed. Has to touch you, has to grip you—and he does. His hand finds your throat and he squeezes, kissing you with the same passion, prolonging it because what you did wasn’t fair. He needs the passion; he needs to swallow it down and feel it course down his body. And when you give him just that, along with your luscious moans, he rewards you. 

Gives you all of his cock. 

He rams himself into you, balls deep. Repeats it over and over, each thrust harder than the one before. Watches your irises disappear from your eyes, mouth agape, voice gone. Jungkook senses you’re leaving planet Earth again and he stops you. 

“Is this Daddy of yours your boyfriend now?” 

Like a bell, his heart is clanging and the freedom in that sentence losing its principle of ever being a risk causes his eyes to fill with tears again. He’s a mess. His emotions are a mess. But he’s so happy. 

And the smile you give him due to that question—it charges him with the longing power to own it, own you, so he grabs you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your mouth, and you never stop smiling, not even when you say, “he is my boyfriend now, you got a problem with that?” 

The chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is a surprise to him because dizziness takes a hold of his entire being. He’s gone—he’s about to die. This is it. 

He kisses you and the act of your lips wrapping around his makes this so much more real. He squeezes you and bunny in his arms, hips grinding his circles now. “Does it hurt when I’m this deep?” he murmurs. 

“No, feels good.” 

“Let me know if it starts hurting, alright?” 

You nod, pecking him, gripping his hair. 

Jungkook lets go of your hand and slowly lifts you up and down on the hardness of his cock from behind. You’re so light in his hands, like a little angel assigned to his side, just his to play with. You tip your head back, the smile of yours having bloomed into a full grin. Jungkook watches you in awe. 

“Look at you riding me. You don’t need any help.” 

You giggle. Jungkook feels his cheeks fire up. Thinks the sound is angelic, it must be. Thinks the squelch of your pussy taking him, leaving him dewy, is angelic, too. 

It makes him stop playing with you and fuck you properly instead. 

He sits up. Angles your head so your lips touch his, but he doesn’t kiss you. He wants you there so you swallow all of the words that will come off his tongue, so you remember them even when the delirium wears off. 

He pounds into you. 

You’re no longer smiling. 

Takes the vibrator again. Provokes you, just because he can’t help it, by turning up the intensity and letting it only float above your clit, never letting it touch you. He’s not fast as he fucks you. On the contrary, his thrusts are hard. 

Merciless. 

He feels evil when he removes the toy completely, makes sure you watch, and presses it down into the softness between bunny’s legs. He turns your head back to face him and he mimics your moans, scrunches his features in pleasure, giving life to the plushie—acting for her.

But his meanness makes you come and you fall apart in his hands. He feels bad, terribly bad for you, and the feeling begins to consume his insides—so much that he gives you the pleasure he denied you mid climax. He presses the toy against your clit and—

You’re gone. 

Your stream of pleasure forces him out of you and it makes him moan loudly. It makes him moan when he rubs the vibrator all over your absolutely drenched cunt and you just keep coming. And it makes him moan when you beg him to keep fucking you. 

Who is he to say no to you? 

“You just want it bad, don’t you?” 

You nod against his head. Gone, gone, gone. He follows you into that rabbit hole, pounding you rough and fast this time, keeping you caged against him, fingers back in an intricate interlock. You smother him with your femininity and Jungkook is perpetually at wonder how you manage to do that, how you manage to never have enough. It makes him lose his fucking mind, lose everything—lose his identity. He just blurs into you. The stars in his chest pour like liquid into your ribcage. He feels them quivering when he touches your breasts all over. Wonders if you’ll come again for him. 

“Pussy molded just for me, hm, isn’t it?” he breathes. Hot, sweaty, on the brink of insanity. White flashes. Balls tight. Dizziness stealing his senses. “Good little pussy, always wanting more.” 

The air grows dense. 

“Mine,” he growls, voice strained—so close, so fucking close. “My pussy. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to love—”

His gut tenses. Flames burn it hot. Time stops. Knuckles turn ivory in the feverish grip of your fingers upon bunny’s tummy; your walls, too, splattered in magnificent white. Jungkook fucks his cum into you, once, twice, for the last time—pumping you full. Giving you all that he has. 

He falls limp against his pillows. The toy buzzes on upon the comforter, long abandoned. 

His exhaustion doesn’t let him open his eyes. Not when his eyes sting with tears once more, not even when your warmth leaves his manhood. He knows you didn’t come this time around, however he doesn’t have the strength to fix it. His vigor oozed out of him and nestled within you—like his control, like his love, like his cum. 

He will make it up to you tomorrow morning. 

Now he needs sleep. He needs the tears to halt their hurting by leaking out of the inner corners of his eyes. Would prefer if you weren’t the witness to it because with his vigor departing, his vulnerability heightened. He’s ashamed of the sea of his feelings, but there’s nothing he can do to change that. He just loves you. 

He’s so happy that he’s yours and he fucked you so good and—

“You tired, baby?” 

You sound just like him. 

Jungkook suppresses his sob, swallows it right down. 

“I’m spent.” Too emotional. “Too spent to wash up.”

He feels a kiss on his nose, the comforter lifting, small warm hands on his body as he’s being tucked into his bed. Jungkook lies on his side. Feels too lonely. As if you had insight into his soul, you settle into the spaces of his form that you know are there for you to hide in. 

With a barrier in between. 

You push bunny’s back against his chest. Click the lamp off.

In the darkness, Jungkook allows his lungs to expand in their silent weeping. Finds bunny, finds your arm. Moves you closer until the plushie serves like a heart in the middle of your bodies. Fingers petting your hair, he allows another thing—

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two

[mybelovedwoo]

song mingi as boyfriend - headcanon

headcanon, romance, fluff, smut

gn!reader x bf!atz

wc. ~0.8k

an: happy mingi day everyone!!

you can request headcanons if you want to (please only headcanons)!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

masterlist

- the type of boyfriend who will be obsessed with you, and his whole personality would be around loving you and being the best boyfriend possible

-his lockscreen is you smiling for a picture he took on a date, he has playlists on his phone made just for you that you listen to whenever you are together and he talks about you all the time, like always has a fun fact to add about you in a conversation "you know when y/n was a child she liked that too" or "my girlfriend can also do that"

-he would give you the entire world if he could, unfortunately, he can't, but he would do everything with his power to make you feel like you are the most important, precious thing in this world (and next to him you actually feel like it)

-he would quite literally take you everywhere with him, to his studio, to dance practices and schedules, and if you go somewhere he would follow you around too, shopping and even meeting up with your friends

-he likes casual dates, like going out to eat (but not a too fancy place, more like a bbq) or going to the arcade or to the movies

-has a list on his phone about the things you like, and every time a birthday or Christmas, or any holiday comes he opens it and buys a thing from the list. looooves to give you gifts, especially clothes that he thinks would look good on you

-incredibly loyal, he will never leave you behind ever, and you can always count on him, he literally would drop everything if you ask him to

-he LOVES to be pampered, I mean he is just a big baby who loves cuddle time, and also appreciates when you cook for him (it just makes him fall in love with you even more)

-he can get very jealous sometimes, he just gets very sulky those times, but you just have to give him attention and lots of kisses for him and everything is okay

-constantly on a mission to make you laugh, but what makes you laugh actually the embarrassing things he does to make you laugh not the actual joke

-he loves to kiss the top of your head when you lean on him, it's a habit of his that he picked up due to his height

-he thinks you are the cutest human on planet earth and you think the exact same thing about him (bc he is)

-he will get all giggly when you initiate a hug or a kiss, but his favorite is when you hold his face and look deep into his eyes, he probably would get a heart attack from that, he can't take compliments either he would blush so hard

-his kisses are very slow and soft, but he would hold your face with one hand a bit roughly just to hold you secure, and the other hand is around your waist to keep you close to him

-he would call you nicknames like baby, princess or his personal favorite pumpkin, which is even your contact name on his phone

nsfw +18!!!

-so I think mingi is a switch, he could be a soft dom (but not as soft as san if you know what I mean), but he's rather a sub, he likes it when you take control, he thinks it's extremely hot, but doesn't mind taking control either if you're in the mood for that

-it always starts out very soft and romantic, just like his kisses. cuddle times lead to sex 70% of the time, he just wants to feel you even closer to him

-other times he is just really horny, but that's a whole different kind of sex, it would be hot and steamy, like when he comes home all frustrated from practice because he was thinking about you the whole time, or when he gets a bit jealous because you got a bit too close to another member

-when he is a dom ohh boy you'll have a long night. he would do literally anywhere, in the kitchen, in the shower, on the couch

-manhandles you shamelessly, pushes you against the wall, and loves to slap your booty (but not in the way it actually hurts)

-but when he is a sub, he is so loving and careful, all light touches and tender kisses, he just wants to be babied at those times

-for positions, sub mingi loves it when you ride him, he loves the view he gets, but dom mingi loves a good doggy, also loves to view from behind 

-i think vocally he is a bit shy in the bedroom, wouldn't speak much during it, just groans a lot

-aftercare is really important for him but prefers it when you do it to him, or at least for it together, would be really soft and kinda in a sentimental mood after

[awesumsaus]

cave

wc: 6.5k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

part two of pretty when I cry

summary: Ever the man of his word, your boyfriend Joel finally fulfills your need to have him claim that secret little part of you.

a/n: welcome back besties. thank you so much to everyone that checked out part one, I seriously can’t believe the response it’s gotten. again please heed the warnings and skip of you don’t think this is for you. otherwise hope y’all enjoy my absolutely depraved writing 

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, very needy/emotional reader, joel can pick reader up (I’m convinced this man could lift anyone), smut smut smut literal porn (ok a TINY bit of plot), established relationship, age gap (not really mentioned in this one), so much daddy kink, dd/lg dynamics, tiny bit of degradation kink, whole lot of praise kink, joel tummy™️, spanking, unprotected pinv, oral (m receiving), plug use, ass eating (brief), anal sex, subspace, joel is still a consent king, fluffy aftercare (these bitches are in love)

It wasn’t until two weeks later that either of you brought it up. You’d been thinking about it, that morning, admittedly far too often. The way his fingers and tongue explored the very hidden spots of your body, pushed the limit of what you can and can’t handle. But you couldn’t ask him, couldn’t be the first one to bring it up. It was the game the two of you played, you being far too shy to voice this filthy little need, and Joel far too teasing to give it up without you asking.

But it was becoming unbearable, thoughts of him arising at the most inopportune times, whether that be when you were laying in bed at home, alone while Joel was working a double shift, or at work when there were millions of other tasks you should be focusing on, but all you could think about was your boyfriend finally claiming that secret little part of you. 

And so tonight you’d decided to put an end to your suffering, devising your own little plan to set things in motion, one that you were comfortable with, and that you knew Joel wouldn’t object to. 

The two of you were getting ready, having made plans to meet Joel’s brother for dinner at 7. It was already 6:30 by the time you finished your hair, still dressed in nothing but one of Joel’s t-shirts and a lacy thong. Usually, your lateness was just a result of you losing track of time, trying to tame flyaways, or pausing to belt out one of the songs that came up on your playlist. Little did Joel know that this time around you were stalling, working up the courage to present him with your latest purchase. 

You glance over to the open vanity drawer, and a tinge of excitement spreads up your spine when you see it. A small thing, silver all except for the red heart-shaped jewel at the end of it. You reach for it, the metal cold against your fingertips, a contrast to the heat that spreads up your neck at the thought of what comes next. 

Running your hands through your hair one last time, you exit the bathroom to see Joel, fully dressed and rummaging through one of his dresser drawers. The way the fabric of his dark green sweater stretches around his broad shoulders makes your stomach flip. 

You pad over to him, hands held behind your back, clearing your throat and he turns. He immediately registers the hesitance in your movements. “I um- I got you something.” You look up at him through your lashes, putting on your most innocent guise. 

“S’ that right?” He quirks an eyebrow, already holding back a smirk. His focus turns to his wrist, snapping in place the silver band of the watch you’d gifted him this past Christmas. It was a simple thing, nothing too fancy. You would’ve gotten him something nicer, something more high-end, but the year-end bonus you’d been hoping for never came. Still, Joel insisted that it was the greatest gift he’d ever been given, bullshit, but it still put a smile on your face whenever he wore it. 

“You promise you won’t laugh?” His smirk widens. 

“Why would I laugh?”

“Just promise!” You frown at him before giving his chest a little shove, but he’s quick to respond, grabbing your wrist and pulling, closing the space between you.

“Promise.” You say it softer this time, looking up at him, ignoring the way your thighs instinctively clench from how far you have to bend your neck just to meet his gaze. 

“I promise.” He plants a kiss on your forehead, his expression softening. “I won’t laugh.”

And he doesn’t. In fact, his smirk falls completely when you reveal what’s in your free hand, extending your palm to him. He takes it from you, turning it over in his fingers, something darkens in his eyes. 

“Dirty little girl,” he says under his breath, his attention still focused on the small metal plug in his hand. He turns away from you for only a moment to grab his phone from the dresser. 

“What are you doing?”

“Textin’ Tommy that we’re gonna be late,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No wait, I’ll be quick. I’m almost ready-“

“Uh-uh, baby.” He takes exacting steps towards you, forcing you to retreat backward, nearly falling over when your calves meet the edge of his bed. “Not goin’ anywhere yet.” He swiftly turns you, manhandling you against his chest, and dips his mouth to your ear. “Bend over.”

A shiver runs down your spine, yet you can’t ignore the heat continuing to spread across your face. “R-right now? Joel, are you serious?”

“You bet I am.” His hand comes down with a firm slap to your ass and you gasp, the arm he’s looped around your midsection keeping you from falling forward onto the bed. Wet drips from your core when he does the same to the other side. “Thought you were gonna get away with this, baby? F’ you’re gonna act like a fucking whore, I’m gonna treat you like one. Bend over.”

You shudder slightly at his words, but do as he says, slowly lowering your upper half, whining when he pushes you the last few inches, your brain already gone fuzzy from the roughness of his movements. A part of you expected this, knew that Joel wouldn’t accept your gift and just move on with the rest of the night. So it’s no surprise that when he pulls your thong to the side, your pussy is already glistening with slick. 

“Jesus, baby,” he lets out a breath behind you, running his knuckles along your seam making you shiver. “Always so fucking wet, so ready f’ me.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you sigh against the mattress, rocking your lower half back, seeking friction. 

Joel lets out a strangled grunt from behind you, one hand squeezing your ass cheek. It’s taking everything in him not to ruin you right then and there, but he restrains himself, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t make it out the front door if he gave in. 

You suck in a breath when the cold metal presses against your cunt, slipping through your folds with ease, gathering slick. “Gonna be able to behave yourself at dinner, baby? Don’t want Tommy gettin’ suspicious.”

You whimper slightly as the tip presses into the cleft of your ass, squirming at the action and the almost belittling tone of his voice. “Don’t want him to know how much of a goddamn slut you are for me, huh?” He delivers another stinging slap just as the plug breaches your tight hole. “Answer me.”

“I-I’ll behave!” The words tumble from your mouth. “I’ll be good, daddy- p-promise.”

“I know, baby. Always such a good girl f’ me.” His words are so dizzying you don’t even realize that he’s fitted the plug completely inside of you until his knuckles graze your ass. It’s not what you had expected, not painful or uncomfortable in any way. It feels good, being this full, the slight stretch making your lower half shake with anticipation. 

“That feel okay, pretty girl?” His voice softens the same way it always does when he’s checking in with you. 

“Mhm,” you nod against the mattress, a content smile spread across your face. 

“Good. Now go get dressed ‘fore Tommy starts askin’ questions.”

He plants one last slap on your bottom, softer than the others, but the way it reverberates across your skin and through the toy now deep inside you makes you gasp, your senses now on high alert. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

You make it through the better part of dinner without any slip-ups, just a regular evening with your boyfriend and his brother who you’ve come to befriend over your time knowing him.

You’re barely paying attention, focused on the story Tommy is telling when Joel curves a finger through the back loop of your jeans and pulls. You choke on your water at the sudden feeling, the seam of your jeans digging into you, pressing tightly against the toy you’d nearly forgotten about at this point. Something white-hot shoots up your spine and settles in your lower belly. Tommy pauses and shoots you a worried look as you cough unexpectedly, obviously unaware of Joel’s actions. You notice Joel holding back a smirk from the corner of your eye. 

“Woah- hey, ya alright darlin’?” Tommy asks, looking to Joel who’s started patting your back softly, a forced expression of concern written across his features. It takes everything in you not to slap the look right off his face then and there. 

“I’m fine, yeah- sorry.” You try to ignore the obvious blush spreading across your cheeks, still attempting to catch your breath while also fighting against the growing heat pulsing through your core. 

“You sure, honey? You’re all flushed,” Joel says. 

“Said I’m fine,” you almost snap at Joel, immediately regretting your tone when he shoots you a warning look, a brow raised as if daring you to continue.

“Sorry, Tommy.” You turn to the younger Miller, disregarding the way Joel’s palm has started kneading the flesh of your lower back, only making your head spin more. “Please go on. I’m alright.” He looks between the two of you a bit hesitantly for only a moment before continuing his story. 

And suddenly it’s all you can think about, the feeling of the plug pressing into your most sensitive spots, the fullness of it all, only made worse by Joel’s continuous teasing, his seemingly harmless touching. 

When you finally make it to Joel’s truck after bidding Tommy goodnight, you’re an absolute mess. Practically soaked through your panties, squirming against the leather of your seat. And Joel knows, revels in it, confirmed by the shit-eating grin he exhibits the entire ride home, while his hand softly grips the plushness of your thigh, only deepening your need. 

You’re on him as soon as you pass the threshold of his front door, clawing at his chest, a rabid little thing. He appeases you almost instinctively, pushing you against the opposite wall and pinning your wrists by your head as he roughly presses his mouth to yours. You writhe against his grip, whimpering when he takes his free hand to angle your jaw upward, giving his tongue access to plunge deep into your mouth. You hook a leg around his waist, grinding against his thigh, and finally, a tiny ounce of your ache dissipates. 

But just as quickly as it started, Joel removes himself from you, turning away and walking into the living room. He plops down on the couch, kicking his shoes off and leaning back against the cushions. The look on his face is maddening, cocky son of a bitch.

“C’mere,” he says from his seat on the couch, his legs spread wide. If you weren’t so painfully desperate you’d refuse him for being so smug, but luckily for Joel, you need him about as much as you need air to breathe in this moment. 

You can’t help but eye the growing tightness in his jeans as you approach him, the sight making you a little dizzy in your movements. He stops you when you attempt to straddle him, placing a hand firmly on your lower belly, and looking up at you with a devilish smile. He toys with the hem of your shirt between his fingers. Off. It’s all the command you need before crossing your arms over your body and lifting the fabric from your torso. 

Your shirt’s not even pulled over your head before his deft fingers are unbuttoning your pants and tugging them along with your panties down to your ankles. He leans forward, gripping your calf, and helps you step out of them, popping your shoes off in the process, and quickly tosses your clothes aside. His hand travels up your leg, sending goosebumps across your bare skin. A small yelp escapes your lips when he pulls you onto his lap by the back of your thigh, but you quickly melt into him as your knees sink into the couch on either side of him. 

He runs his hands up and down your sides and you shiver. “So sensitive, baby,” he tsks. You can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks from your desperation. It was pathetic really, how much you need him in this moment, how much your body craved even his lightest touch. It was pathetic really, how much of your need now dripped onto his still-clothed crotch, soaking through the material. 

His hands move to cup your tits, thumbing your already peaked nipples through the thin fabric before expertly unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You’re suddenly all too aware of how clothed Joel is, a stark contrast to your naked form, yet the image sends another wave of slick weeping from your core. You allow your head to fall forward onto his shoulder, mouthing at his sweater to muffle your cries, when he tweaks one of your nipples between his fingers. 

“Sh, I know. I’ve got you, little one.” He continues his slow torment, smoothing his hands along your bare skin, his smirk growing with each of your whines and whimpers. You’re like putty in his hands, completely at his mercy, a plaything for him to do with what he pleases. Your breath hitches when his hands travel to your ass, two of his fingers pressing lightly against the now exposed plug, sending a jolt through your whole body. 

He brings his mouth to your ear, nips at it, before whispering “You want me to fuck you here, baby?“ He says it like a secret, only for the two of you to ever hear. That’s when everything starts to ache, the feeling in your lower belly so warm and unfurling, that you fear you may start sobbing if he doesn’t end his teasing soon. 

“Please, daddy.” You sniffle into the spot connecting his neck and shoulder. “Want it so bad, please.”

“Such good manners, baby.” One of his hands slides up your back to the nape of your neck where he grips you, pulling you back to meet his gaze. “M’ gonna give you what you want, sweet girl.” Your heart rate quickens, excitement bubbling in your chest.

“But not tonight.”

And just like that your heart sinks, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes at his sudden declination. You’d feel foolish for it, overly emotional if it wasn’t Joel’s lap you were sitting on. He knows how you get, how reactive you can be, especially when you have your heart set on something. You shake your head and lean away from him, your eyes casting down to your lap, shame beginning to bubble in your chest. You have the sudden urge to cover yourself, wrapping your arms around your chest, a little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s your fault, that you’d done something wrong to make him deny you, deny himself, of this. 

“Hey,” he says it so so softly. His hands run up and down your biceps, as if he’s attempting to pull your focus from the insecurities he knows are settling in your brain “I’m not doing this to punish you, understand?” You sniffle again, a tear threatens to fall from your lower lashes. 

“Look at me,” he says sternly. You reluctantly meet his gaze. “Tell me you understand.”

You want to shake your head no, want to beg him to change his mind, whine and pout until he gives you what you want, but as much as you know Joel’s a man of his word, you also know he’s nearly impossible to sway once his mind is made up. 

“I understand.”

“Good.” 

He gives you a moment to collect yourself, thumbing your tears away and pulling you back against his chest. You unwrap your arms from yourself, instead latching them around Joel’s neck. “I’m gonna give you what you want, baby. Just gotta have some patience. Want this to be good for you.” He rubs your back soothingly, kissing your temple. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You can’t help the huff that escapes your lips at his words, because you like the hurt. Like being subject to his each and every desire, surrendered entirely to his control. Joel knows this, knew this from the first time you’d slipped and called him daddy while he fucked you into his kitchen counter, knew this when the next morning he caught you in his bathroom mirror, smiling at the finger-shaped bruises burgeoning across the flesh of your hips. 

Joel knows you like the hurt, and part of him can’t deny how utterly irresistible he finds you when you beg him to push just a little further, to be a little rougher. But he also knows where to draw the line, never inflicting enough pain to outweigh the pleasure he brings you. He’s had experience with establishing this limit, but never in past relationships had he found anyone to be as persistent as you, as stubborn, as needy. And though it isn’t always obvious, he needs you just the same. It’s what frustrates him the most, not your neediness, but the way in which it clouds his judgement, makes him forget how fragile you can be. So he wouldn’t, not tonight, not until he’s certain you won’t break. 

“Poor baby,” he coos when you grind down on his bulge, the rough fabric against your soft folds making you gasp. “I know you’re not used to being told no, huh?”

You let out a squeaking whine when you feel the rough skin of his hand cup the entirety of your sex. You instinctively buck into his touch. 

“You want daddy to take care ‘a this for you?”

“Mhm, please,” nodding your head against his chest. You almost cry when the pad of his finger finds your clit, swiping two delicate circles before pulling away. 

“Sh sh, I’ve got you, honey.” He lifts you slightly off his lap, a strangled sound erupting from your throat at the loss of contact, but he makes quick work with his zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to free his fully hardened cock, red and pulsing in his grip. 

“Come sit on daddy’s cock, baby.” His eyes glass over as he pumps his length once, twice before urging you forward. He taps the wide tip against your clit a few times and you swear you could come just from that before he’s lining up with your entrance, coating himself with your slick. 

He lets you go at your own pace, loosening his grip on your waist as you begin to sink down on him, inch by inch. He’d usually stretch you first, make you come around his fingers once or twice before letting you take him in his entirety. But not tonight, not with the steady flow of slick that’s been gushing from your heat all night. 

You shudder once he’s fully sheathed inside you, your clit twitching against his pelvis. He lets you adjust, squirm a bit in his lap, before he’s bucking up into you, a bit of his own impatience beginning to show. 

As much as you’ve needed Joel all night, you know his teasing has had its own effect on him. He’s been itching to be inside you since the moment you presented him with your little gift, it was all he could think about the entire evening, so it comes as no surprise that his movements quickly grow hurried. He fucks up into you at a frantic pace, meeting your little bounces with increasing force.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The combination of his cock pumping deep inside you and the toy sitting snug inside your asshole. It’s overwhelming, nerve endings you didn’t even know existed now buzzing within you. It’s only mere minutes before you’re clenching around him, right on the edge of release.

“Little cunt’s huggin’ me so tight, baby,” Joel pants, his movements stuttering. 

“Daddy-“ you gasp, “m’ ngh m’ gonna cum.”

“Fuck- that’s it baby,” he babbles, his fingers move to messily rub your clit. “That’s it pretty girl. Want you to cum on my cock then I’ll fill you up, yeah? So fucking full, baby. C’mon, cum for daddy.”

Your entire body convulses against him as you reach your peak, strings of curses and incoherent sounds slipping between your lips. Everything turns white behind your eyes, every inch of your skin on fire. He only fucks you harder, rubs his fingers against your clit faster. You don’t even realize you’re on the cusp of a second orgasm until he’s pressing his free hand against the heart-shaped jewel still sticking out of your ass, hitting something deep inside of you. Then you’re crashing down once more, sobbing as your grip tightens around his neck, completely enraptured in the feeling as he fucks up into you. 

“Good fuckin’ girl-“ a groan sounds from deep within his chest, a few more bucks of his hips before he cums, spilling into you with a slew of grunts and unintelligible praises. He only lets up once you’ve milked him dry, a combination of both your releases coating his length and further soaking his jeans. 

Joel comes back to earth first after he’s caught his breath and carefully pulled out of you. He stands and rids himself of his damp clothes, now just as bare you are, before wrapping his thick arms around you and pulling you from the couch. 

Later, after you’re both showered and Joel makes you a cup of your favorite tea, the two of you lay in bed, your head resting against his chest, tracing a finger along the broad expanse of him. You’ve committed just about every mark and freckle to memory by now from this exact spot. His hand lazily runs up and down your spine, as you mull over where things will go from here. 

A week. You talked him into a week. A week of doing exactly as he says, with no attempting to convince him otherwise. You’ll wear the plug when he tells you to, for as long as he tells you to. A week and then he’ll divulge that secret little part of you that he’s yet to claim. 

Joel lasts till Thursday. 

He’s done for the moment he arrives home from work to you sprawled across his bed, book in hand, with nothing on but a tight-fitting t-shirt and a barely-there thong. You knew what you were doing, knew it was exactly what Joel told you not to do, tempting him to go back on his word and cave. You notice his eyes darken the moment he enters the bedroom, his gaze falling to the red heart poking through the fabric of your panties. The same one he stuffed inside you before sending you off to work this morning, the one you were sorely reminded of every time you shifted too quickly in your desk chair. 

“Hey baby,” you smile sweetly at him. You swear you hear him grumble as he makes his way to the closet, pulling his sweaty work shirt off and tossing it into the hamper. You mark your page and set your book aside before stretching out across the comforter like a cat in the sun. The muscles in Joel’s shoulders tense when a soft sigh slips from your lips. 

You nearly skip over to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection before he has the chance to pull on a clean shirt. He lets out a heavy breath at the feeling of your small fingers splaying across his bare stomach. 

“How was your day?” you ask, pressing against him more firmly, your head resting below his shoulder blades. 

“Fine,” he responds, his tone suspecting. You feel his breath catch as you press small kisses to his spine. 

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today,” your voice goes softer, a hidden plea behind your words. 

“S’ that right?” His severity wanes, an opening.

“Mhm,” you hum against him, dragging your blunt nails across his skin. “Need you so bad, Daddy.”

“‘M right here, baby.” He pretends to not know what you’re talking about, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops, acting like your fingers aren’t dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. You know he can see right through you, has always seen right through you, his refusal to admit it in this moment only makes your need deepen. 

“Please, Joel,” you whine softly, errant fingertips dipping just below the waistband of his boxers. “I almost started touching myself in the bathroom today.” Your cheeks flush red at the confession, a low groan escapes Joel’s throat. “Every time I felt it, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wish it was your co-“

You let out a small gasp when he snatches your wrist. He pauses, so still you begin to worry you’ve upset him, that you’ve pushed him too far. But then something shifts. 

Fuck it. His mouth is on you in seconds, his tongue immediately gaining access as you melt into him. It’s dizzying, one of his hands grabbing you just below your jaw, the other squeezing your ass cheek roughly. Your knees buckle just as he’s turning you around and practically throwing you onto the bed. You don’t even have time to lift your head off the mattress before he’s yanking your panties over your ass and easing the plug out of your hole. He’s quick with it, your body shivering as the cool metal slides through you, leaving an empty feeling in its wake, but it doesn’t last for long as Joel licks a broad strip through your seam to your asshole. He presses his tongue there, gauging your reaction before he’s licking into you, spreading you with his hands. At first, you squirm away, the feeling of him eating at you like this entirely foreign. But then you're rocking back into him, completely lost in the rush of his mouth against your asshole. Sounds you never knew yourself capable of filling the room as his tongue repeatedly dives into the ring of muscle.

A strangled moan leaves your lips when he pauses, you crane your neck just in time to see a string of saliva drip from his mouth directly between your ass cheeks. He rubs it into you, pushing his thumb through the ring of muscle making you whimper. 

“What d’you want?” His voice is low. His thumb starts pumping in and out of you, fast and unrelenting. 

“Daddy,” you whine, burying your burning-hot cheeks into his pillow. 

“Gonna need better than that,” he tsks, rutting his bulge into your heat. “Or else I’ll have t’ take care a’ this myself. Tie you up and make you watch.”

“Ngh, Daddy,” you moan, face burning impossibly warmer. His thumb slows, giving you a moment of reprieve to gather your thoughts. 

“Want you t’ fuck my ass- wanna feel you.”

“Jesus-“ With his hand coming down to grip your neck, he suddenly pins you to the mattress, muttering a short stay before you feel his weight lift from the bed. You hear the sound of his zipper undoing and catch him fisting himself in the corner of your eye. Your thighs tremble with anticipation as he moves to the side of the bed, planting a knee by your shoulder. Then he’s towering over you, his weeping cock right at your eye line, your cheek still pushed against the mattress, ass in the air. He looks so powerful like this, so broad and so commanding, so when he tells you to open your mouth, you don’t even have to think twice. 

“Gonna get daddy’s dick nice n’ wet, baby.” Saliva pools in your mouth, threatening to drip onto the bed when you stick your tongue out. “Then ‘m gonna wedge my cock in this tight little hole. How’s that sound?” You jolt forward when the pad of his index finger pushes into you.

“Please Daddy,” you whine. He removes his hand, immediately wrapping it around the back of your skull, his fingers tangled in your hair. His other hand grips the base of his length, tapping the red-flushed tip on your tongue a few times before pushing all the way into your mouth in one swift motion, your nose scratching against the coarse hairs at his pelvis. It had taken you months to work up to it, taking him in his entirety. The first time you blew him you’d barely been able to make it halfway down his cock before you were gagging, but not now. Now you take everything he gives you, like he’s molded your throat to the shape of him. 

“This mouth-“ he’s cut off by his own moans, erupting from deep within his chest. “Fuckin’ heaven, baby.”

Tears quickly prick in the corners of your eyes as he continues his assault on your throat. A breathy moan slips from his mouth when you gag around his length after an especially forceful thrust of his hips.

His pace slows as he thumbs away your tears. “Daddy’s been so mean, huh little one? Makin’ you wait all this time.”

You whine around his dick, the vibrations making Joel’s breath catch in the back of his throat. 

“You like when I’m mean though, don’t you? Like when daddy treats you like the little slut you are?” He delivers a harsh smack to your ass just as he pulls away from your mouth, leaving you sputtering and gasping for air. He moves to open the nightstand drawer, quickly retrieving a bottle of lube before rounding the corner of the bed, towering over you from behind. 

“Don’t need it,” you whine, head still foggy from the lack of oxygen.

“Quiet little girl.” He softly swats your ass before you hear the disappointing sound of the bottle opening, followed by the cool sensation of the liquid hitting your exposed hole. He rubs it into you, letting out a satisfied hum when he presses his thumb into your asshole with ease. And then his cock is lining up with you, it’s so fucking big, so much bigger than the plug, a small part of you starts to worry it may not fit, may be too painful. 

Like always, Joel senses your apprehension, running his large palm soothingly down your spine as he leans over you. You feel his warm breath hit your ear. 

“You tell me if it’s too much, yeah baby?” He says it only slightly above a whisper. “M’ only gonna enjoy this if you do too.”

You nod against the sheets, immediately recognizing that the action won’t be enough for Joel. “Yes, Daddy.” You crane your neck to look at him, eyes hooded and dazed. Something flashes in his expression, beyond simple desire, a need suddenly so evident in his eyes that you’d sit up and kiss him until your lips were raw if he wasn’t pushing the tip of his thick cock inside you. 

It’s so much. Even just the first inch is blinding, your vision going blurred and your senses entirely rapt with the feeling. The hurt is overwhelming, the stretch all-consuming, but it’s so good, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

He pushes in another inch and the pain dissipates, in its place a euphoric haze, where all you can feel is him, his weight driving you into the mattress, his hips rocking against your ass. You see stars once he’s fitted inside you, never having felt this full. 

The noises Joel is making are almost pained, his cock throbbing from the tightness of your hole, all the restraint left in him keeping him from setting a brutal pace. No, instead he moves slow, focused intently on not blowing his load every time you squeeze around him, listening to your little moans and whimpers for any signs of unease. 

“It’s a lot baby, I know,” he pants. “But you’re doin’ so good.” His praises have you reeling, furthering your dazed state. “Look so goddamn perfect takin’ all a’ me like this.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you know is that you need more, entirely lost in the feeling. You’re always insatiable, greedy, whenever it comes to Joel, and he knows, revels in the fact that he’s the one that gets to have you like this, makes you feel like this. 

You’re not even sure what you’re saying at this point, what sounds are falling from your mouth, just that Joel takes it as a sign to pick up his pace. It brings you back to earth a bit, your lower belly going taught at the force of his body against your own. 

You’re crying out against the mattress, small fingers twisting in the sheets, tears forming a wet spot beneath your chin. 

“Fuck, baby c’mere.” He suddenly pulls out of you with a heady groan and wastes no time flipping you over. He’s pushing back inside you in seconds, resuming his vigorous pace. 

“Wanna see you when I come in this perfect fuckin’ ass.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his words, your entire body going limp against the mattress as he uses you. When his thumb finds your clit you’re done for. The messy circles he makes send you hurtling right to the edge. With a near-scream, every part of your body goes taut for a moment before your release is shattering through every inch of your body, bursting from your core like shock waves. 

“Fuck, fuck-“ he’s repeating over and over as his own climax hits him, but you can’t even hear him, can only feel him, his body thrusting into you, pushing you impossibly further into the mattress, his hands gripping the hinge of your hips, his warm release shooting deep inside you. It’s the only thing keeping you here, prevailing against the potent haze. 

With one final grunt, he stills, his breathing ragged and sweat dripping from his forehead. You can barely move, still dazed as he pulls out of you slowly, the emptiness in its wake further graying your awareness of reality. 

You lift a shaking hand, attempting to grab at whatever part of him you can reach. “Daddy-“

He leans forward, carefully caging you in his arms. “I’m here baby, you’re okay.”

“‘M okay,” you mumble sweetly. He brings one of his hands to your hair, gently running his fingers along your scalp in a way that makes your thoughts even more fuzzy. But the heaviness of his chest against your own keeps you there, keeps you present. 

“You did so good f’ me, I’m so proud a’ you.” A tired smile spreads across your face at his words. He knows the effect they have on you, which is probably why he says it. But the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. 

“My pretty baby,” he kisses you softly, and you further melt into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent, musky and woody with something distinctly Joel. The two of you stay like this for a moment, your arms and legs wrapped around his large form, what little remains of your strength focused on keeping him in place, chest to chest, a comforting pressure. 

“How do you feel, baby? You hurtin’ anywhere?” He says it against your neck, placing soft kisses to the skin there. 

“Mm”, you hum, denying, still detached from your own body, not fully registering the slight tinges of hurt spreading throughout your lower half, completely consumed with the man in front of you, the smell of his sweat still glistening across his chest, the weight of his softened cock still pulsing and twitching against your thigh. He’s everywhere, everything in this moment. 

He pulls away just enough to kiss the tip of your nose. “How ‘bout a bath yeah?” You hum in agreement, let him unwrap himself from your hold, and stand at the edge of the bed before he’s snaking an arm under your knees and back and lifting you. You instinctively curl your face into his neck, still wet with sweat but you don’t mind, nearly your whole body already covered in him. 

He sets you down on the toilet seat before moving to turn the water on, making sure it’s warm enough before plugging the drain. You sway a bit in place, thankful when Joel wraps an arm around your back to steady you. Usually by now the haze will have lifted a bit, no longer in this headspace, yet still your brain is a bit fuzzy, your thoughts and senses dulled. 

You look up at Joel when you feel his thick fingers card through your hair, unsure of when he’d gone to grab one of your hair elastics. As he gathers the strands together, you lean into him, your head resting just below his belly button, on the plush flesh of his tummy, smattered with course hairs trailing down to the base of his cock. You nuzzle into the spot, breathing him in, fully content in this moment. You feel the muscle tighten when you start to press small kisses to it. He firmly grips your now fully formed ponytail when your mouth wanders south, interrupting your descent, and you whine. 

“Settle.” You let out a short huff of breath and bring your gaze to his, resting your chin on his stomach as he loosens his grip on your hair. He shakes his head at you, holding back a smile as he finishes tying your hair back. 

He helps you step into the tub first, guiding you to sit, before he slots himself behind you with a grunt. He pulls you against him, arms wrapped around your tummy and chin resting on your shoulder. You giggle softly when the hairs of his mustache tickle behind your ear. 

He lets you sit against him for a moment before he insists on cleaning you up, lathering his soap between his hands and smoothing it along your soft skin. You start to doze off from the feeling, Joel keeping you upright against his chest. Only after the water begins to cool and your fingertips have turned pruney, Joel helps you step out of the tub, wrapping you in a towel before you start to shiver. He kisses you then, soft and slow like he could stay like this with you forever. And you would, if he wasn’t ushering you back into the bedroom, telling you to get in bed and that he’d be right back. 

He makes you drink a glass of water before taking his place behind you on the bed, his back to the headboard and the small bowl of your skull cradled against his chest. You slowly drift off to the steady beat of his heart. 

I have so many ideas for these two so lmk if we want to see more ;]

[koqabear]

Hiii congrats on 2k sol obsessed with everything you write!!!!💓 Could I request revisiting emo boy? Like what their relationship is like after and dates and how sex is like? Maybe beomgyu’s band really blows up and he’s quite busy, how does oc respond to this? And with smut? Tysm!!💝

playlist // beomgyu's encore outfit hehe // cont. of hey emo boy!

 “The day of your one-year anniversary with Beomgyu was expected to be spent away from each other— but not if either of you can help it, far too in love to let anything get in the way of you two.”

bassist!beomgyu x fem!reader // wc: 6.6K (everyone stfu rn) // genre: band au, opposites attract trope, established relationship, smut, tooth rotting fluff tbh, MDNI.

warnings: they are in love and it’s fucking GROSS!! barely edited, the two have hella piercings hehe (bg: snake bites, tongue, eyebrow // mc: smiley & nipple piercings) pet names (sweet thing, pretty, etc.) use of the L word bc they are literally obsessed w/ each other.

smut warnings: hard dom! gyu, sub!mc, needy sex sorry 😖, marking, manhandling, dry humping, biting, breast play, possessiveness, unprotected sex, bg picks the mc up, scratching, dacryphilia, dumbification, a lot of kissing lol, degrading, slight praise, fingering, creampie, cum eating…? lmk if i should add anything !

Notes: happy (late) birthday to the fic that’s probably my peak… this story single handedly changed the course of my blog me thinks. thank you to everyone who was just as affected by emo gyu as i was. 

Being in a committed relationship with Choi Beomgyu, bassist of Tomorrow x Together and an absolute unattainable heartthrob, was not very easy. 

It was at first; with their blossoming career, it was more about the music than their looks. Fans were loyal simply because they liked their sound, their message, the way their concerts were filled with such energy and passion it left their hearts beating with adrenaline after— but of course, it’s hard to not notice the absolute eye candy on stage; low-lidded gazes, dark stage lights that barely highlighted their stunning features, and clothing that was just as alluring and flattering as the rest of them; inevitably, their popularity sky-rocketed, for better and for worse. 

Beomgyu was left with more money than he knew what to do with. Most of the time, it was used to spoil you, his pretty girlfriend he brought with him everywhere because he was just too obsessed with you— it made his band members wonder if he simply had attachment issues by how much his world revolved around you. But no, you were just as bad as him; present during rehearsals, always in the studio to cheer them on or give them a second opinion on a new song; it wasn’t long before you ended up befriending the rest of them as well, a tight bond forming simply because of all the things you went through together. 

As unfortunate as it was, they weren’t the only ones forced to bear with negative and hateful encounters from the public; while they had their experiences of being mistreated early in their career, you had to deal with immature or creepy fans that had taken a liking to harass you— inboxes on all social media platforms flooded constantly, your number even leaked once as you were forced to buy a new phone all together from how badly you were being spammed— Beomgyu had been quick to lash out and tell them to leave you alone if they didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands. 

Overtime, they adjusted to their popularity. Schedules slowly became filled to the brim, their dream now a reality as they spent months on tour— and while you were more than happy and proud of them and their flourishing career, it’d be a lie to say it was all one happy and perfect life. 

You hadn’t seen Beomgyu in ages— decades, centuries, eons— in other words, two weeks. 

The band had more interviews and performances than you could keep up with; if they weren’t on some random talk show, they were at a photoshoot, getting interviewed for the next issue of a magazine you’d undoubtedly have on your coffee table the day it came out. Promotions, nights at the studio, it all added up— and before you knew it, your one year anniversary began to creep up, and all hopes to celebrate it properly dwindled down in your heart— but, having him here with you today was enough. 

You didn’t blame Beomgyu; you weren’t angry or upset, because it was simply something neither of you could control. And though it did suck knowing you wouldn’t be able to spend such a meaningful day together, it felt a little better to know that you weren’t the only one hung up on it. 

On the contrary— you think Beomgyu might be handling this worse than you. 

“Baby, baby please,” he cries, refusing to let go of you and cuddling closer to you instead, a mess of tangled limbs and blankets as he cups your face fondly, “pleaaase I know you said I shouldn’t feel bad but please come on tour with us this week, I think I’ll seriously die if you’re not here this time.”

“Gyu, baby, I really shouldn’t—” you say quietly, only to get cut off by his excessive whining and teary eyes. His bottom lip is jutted out in a ridiculous pout, squeezing your cheeks and holding back a smile at the way your lips puff out as a result; you attempt to push him off you, only for him to retaliate by rolling entirely on top of you, a loud squeal escaping you at the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress, his stupid face hovering over yours as he continues to plead you quietly. 

“Pleaaseee?” he whines, pressing his flat palms against your cheeks and getting your lips to puff out again; he ignores your half-hearted protests for him to get the fuck off, choosing to punctuate his every word with a kiss instead, his piercings a sharp contrast to his plump lips that crash against you with every word. 

“Please?” kiss. “Won’t you,” kiss. “come with us?” another kiss. 

“Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—” 

He’s practically suffocating you at this point, refusing to pull away and mumbling the words against your lips, laughs breaking between the two of you as you yell at him to get off, that you can barely breathe with him on top of you; you’re pushing at his shoulders weakly as he continues to tease you, your unabashed laugh contagious as he quickly finds himself smiling as well— he only pulls away once he hears you yell a loud fuck, okay! Hovering over you with bright eyes and a wide grin. 

His arms snake around your waist before he’s rolling over, successfully switching so that you’re the one on top of him— he ignores the loud and exaggerated sigh of relief you let out. 

“It won’t make much of a difference though,” you say quietly, hiding in the crook of his neck as you confess your doubts, “You’ll be too busy and exhausted the whole day, I really don’t want me to be added to your list of concerns.”

You went on tour with him, once— but you learned it was better off to not be anywhere backstage with him during those times, the boy too concerned and constantly doting on you to remain focused; any mistakes he made hitting much harder, a subconscious pressure to be perfect and give his all only trifolded by your presence.

“What? No,” he says immediately, sitting back on his elbows and causing you to look up at him in response; his brows are furrowed and he seems a bit baffled by your comment, shaking his head adamantly to emphasize his point, “I like having you there. I know you like being there, I want you there— I wouldn’t be asking you to come with me if I thought you were a burden.”

He managed to pull out the exact words you were trying to skirt around— your face heats up at his reassurance, much too intimidated by the intensity of his gaze as you bury your face into his chest instead; his chest bounces from the laugh he lets out, flopping onto his back once more and hugging you close, bodies pressed flush against each other and one of his legs thrown around your waist in a childish attempt to pull you even closer. 

“Plus, don’t you wanna visit Europe with me?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as he feels you nod shyly; he knows just how much you enjoy the travel aspect to his career, constantly asking for pictures or to facetime while he’s gone, “I wanna show you all my favorite spots this time, and not through some glitchy facetime— I wanna spend time with you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, shut up,” you groan, hitting his chest weakly as he simply laughs at you softly, “you’re so corny.”

“You love it,” he coos, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back, biting back a smile at the way he can feel your breath even out— you remain silent. Partly because you’re falling asleep from his touch, and partly because he’s right. 

⤬⤬⤬ 

Europe is breathtaking— you’ve never been so grateful for Beomgyu’s stubborn, persistent mind. 

The tour has gone as perfect as always, spending a few days at their shows before you simply resigned to stay at the hotel instead; after seeing that Beomgyu was so distracted trying to look for you during a show that he missed his cue (and played the notes wrong to another song) you found it better to wait for him and see him after instead— ready to help him wind down and relax after another energetic, adrenaline-inducing show. 

Most nights consisted of you practically carrying him to the bathtub; cooing soft reassurance as he whined about how tired and sore he felt, shampooing his hair, massaging his scalp and tense shoulders— most of the time, he’d fall asleep then and there, and it’d be another hassle to wake him up and get him out. You’d lure him out of the tub and wait for him to change into your matching pajamas— hello kitty ones, his idea, not yours—  and greet him in the bed with a warm embrace and lips that peppered kisses all over his face.

It was during these moments you found humor in the contrast of his stage persona to his true self; from his usual attire, chokers and ripped clothes, wardrobe consisting of black and multiple piercings that decorated his ears and face, your thumb brushing over his newest eyebrow piercing fondly— versus the man that slept soundly in your arms now, long hair tied back and cute pink barrettes clipping back his bangs, donned in hot pink fuzzy pajamas— and you’re sure that if his band members saw him like this, they’d never stop teasing him. 

You didn’t have to wait long to confirm that thought; Beomgyu didn’t bother changing as he met up with the others in Yeonjun’s room for breakfast the next morning, tugging you along and remaining unfazed at the way his band members burst out laughing the moment he entered the room— you felt a bit bad at the way you found yourself laughing as well, even more so because you’re the only reason he’s found himself dressed like this. (But again, he was the one who bought these clothes in the first place.)

“Happy anniversary, you two,” Yeonjun muses, smiling at the way you’re the only one who seems to process that, chirping out a cheery thank you! as you proceed to drag Beomgyu to the couch, “I feel bad that we have a concert today, ___. As vomit-inducing as it is seeing you two, you do deserve to spend the day together.”

“It’s okay,” you immediately say, brushing his teasing comment off and holding back a smile at the way Beomgyu is still struggling to gain consciousness, more tired than you thought as he simply stares at his waffles for a moment before finally digging in, “at least he’s spending the day doing something he loves.”

“Gross,” Hueningkai says, scrunching his nose playfully before laughing at the glare you send him, “you two are so mushy, it’s painful.”

The rest of the day leading up to the concert is spent peacefully; once Beomgyu has gained enough coherence to fight back against the member’s jabs, he’s pulling you away to show you new sights and stores he discovered from his previous visits, spoiling you beyond belief and buying anything you look at for a second too long; you end up with more bags than you know what to do with, and Beomgyu refuses to let you carry a single one as he proceeds to take you one of his go-to restaurants, as he told you; saying he’s been wanting to bring you here since the moment he found it, smiling brightly when he sees you enjoying the food as much as he did.

To say he’s reluctant to leave you to go to the concert venue is an understatement; you think he might start crying at any given moment as he stares at you with shining eyes, unable to let go of your hand as he stands by the door of the hotel room— not quite ready to leave yet, but knowing that he must eventually as he chooses to bring you in for another slow, loving kiss instead. 

“Are you sure you’re not coming tonight?” he asks you, trying to hide the sadness in his voice and failing miserably.

“And make you fuck up your setlist? I don’t think so,” you try to joke, only to panic slightly at the way his eyes gloss over; your hand immediately jumps up to cup his face, laughing softly at his expression as he simply pouts at you ridiculously. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you grin, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you lean over to his ear, voice dropping to nothing but a whisper as you let your lips brush against his ear, “I’ll have a nice surprise for you tonight, so you better give your best show out there, okay?”

The low lilt of your voice is enough to have him perking up immediately; mouth parted slightly as he stares at you, unsure of what else to do but nod pathetically, knowing he won’t be able to control himself if he thinks about what you might have in store for too long. 

With one last chaste kiss, he’s leaving— and only because Soobin was pounding at the door, telling him they’d be late if he didn’t go out this instant— you think he might start crying as he gives you one last pouty glance, waving to you sadly before he slips out the door. 

You’re left alone, the room suddenly much lonelier and quieter than it was a few seconds ago— and you laugh, checking the time and running to your suitcase to get your makeup and outfit for tonight. 

A revealing shirt, a mini-skirt that’s a bit alarmingly short— you’re pulling out a sparkling, pink outfit like it’s nothing, throwing it all on and doing your makeup as you check the time absentmindedly; your phone lights up while you’re in the middle of doing so, and a notification reads that the staff are waiting for you outside to take you to the venue once you’re ready. 

Beomgyu loves performing knowing you’re in the audience more than anything; it’s something he’s made blatant to you, knowing that despite his mistakes, despite his small distractions, his energy always goes out the roof the moment he spots you there. So you knew how distraught Beomgyu would be to hear that you’re not going to the show tonight despite being able to, but the thought of surprising him is much more enticing than you’d like to admit. 

With one last check of your appearance in the mirror, you grab a jacket before you go; Beomgyu’s favorite oversized zip-up, the clothing item a stark contrast to the rest of your feminine and bright attire— and you smile, adjusting the purse on your shoulder before you’re off to the hotel lobby, where the staff are waiting and ready to escort you safely. 

The venue is almost full by the time you get there; you’re escorted straight to your barricade seats front and center, smiling shyly and waving at fans that seem to recognize you; your face feels hot and you walk faster at the way they get excited at the sight of you, not used to the fame that comes with being Beomgyu’s girlfriend— hell, you really don’t know how Beomgyu does it. 

You’re more than relieved once the concert begins, any attention that still lingered on you immediately getting stolen by the boys that appeared on stage; you winced slightly at the loud screams all around you, unable to help the way you eventually joined in— morphing into another fan in the crowd, the venue much too dark for any of the boys to recognize you just yet. 

They looked stunning in their concert outfits; the professional, matching and dark outfits tailored perfectly to each member, intricate with chains and rosaries and pretty layers. Your eyes widen as you watch Beomgyu walk to his position, taking note of his hair that has now been dyed back to black— you hadn’t realized how long it’d gotten until now, the layers framing his face and falling into his eyes as he goes to push back his bangs with a delicate hand. 

There are no introductions tonight— the music begins immediately, loud and abrasive and making the crowd jump along excitedly, screaming the lyrics and reaching out to try and get one of the members to pay attention to them— on the contrary, you try to remain hidden, looking away and bowing your head every time Beomgyu’s gaze sweeps around your area. 

God, you wish Beomgyu didn’t turn into such a ditz whenever he spotted you in the audience— because then you’d be able to enjoy more of their concerts, addicted to the borderline euphoric feeling you get from attending them, only for it to be multiplied as your eyes catch onto your boyfriend performing, your heart pounding against your chest at the sound of his voice ringing out into the venue— a surge of pride and love fills you as a grin spreads on your face, and it isn’t until you notice a member walking around that you’re able to look away from him.

Looking up, you make eye contact with Hueningkai. 

His mischievous smile and raised brows are immediately returned with a violent shake of your head; telling him to not say anything to Beomgyu, rubbing your hands together pleadingly the moment he glances back at the said man— then he turns to you, sending you a playful wink before he’s off to another section, not without sending you one last teasing grin and a wave; you’re glancing at Beomgyu in a panic, unsure if he’s spotted you, only to be relieved at the sight of him too concentrated on playing to even look up at the crowd.

It isn’t until the encore that they’ve all begun to move around, (save for Taehyun and Soobin, bound to their instruments as they’re resigned to simply wave at the crowd when they can) changed into more comfortable outfits during a small intermission— Beomgyu is decked in baggy jeans and an equally baggy shirt, long hair messy and makeup smudged as he walks along the stage, smiling and waving at fans that reach out for him— he plays his bass so effortlessly as he does, truly mesmerizing as he stops a few times to interact with fans; the sight has your heart fluttering hopelessly. 

But the closer he gets, the more you’re buzzing with nervous energy. Gripping onto the barricade tightly, having stood up long ago with the rest of the fans that are eager to get their attention. Beomgyu’s eyes scan through the crowd thoroughly, smiling cutely and returning hearts until he spots you. 

He freezes entirely. 

He’s no longer playing bass— he’s just standing there, in complete shock as he stares at you. You can only muster to give him a sheepish wave, an uncontrollable grin on your face as you laugh at his dumbfounded expression, trying to yell at him to go back to playing. But he doesn’t, and you’re jumping slightly at the way he takes off his bass and jumps off the stage, security frantically following behind as he rushes over to you.

His hands are on your face and he’s pulling you in for a kiss quicker than you can process; you hear the screams of the crowd around you, but Beomgyu’s got you in his hold so tightly that you’re unable to pull away, left to give in and melt against him as he kisses you for a little longer. Your face feels as though it’s on fire by the time he’s pulled away, his own alight entirely with joy as he grins at you, your head still in his hands as he leans against the barricade excitedly— you think he might just jump over it any moment now.

“You’re here?” he says exasperatedly, eyes scanning you frantically as though he were imagining you, “why didn’t you tell me, you should’ve— I would’ve—”

“Beomgyu,” you cut him off, placing your hands over his and laughing at the way he can only stutter stupidly, brushing his hair behind his ear fondly— watching the way his eyes crinkle cutely as he smiles, your own sweeping over the array of piercings that decorate him, hello kitty earrings glinting under the light— and pry his hands off your face, ignoring the pout he sends you as you scold him instead. “Get back on stage!”

Your words seem to snap him out of his reverie; his head is whipping back to look at the stage, at the way his friends can only laugh at him teasingly and yell at him to get back here— the way Yeonjun yells directly into the mic is slightly embarrassing, shrinking at the way all eyes are on you as the man’s words ring out the venue— Beomgyu, get the fuck back here!

He’s only able to leave with one last chaste kiss— the crowd is screaming at the sight, and you’re resisting the urge to cover your face in weak hopes that it could take all this attention off you— but you’ll bear it, especially with the way Beomgyu mouths a cute I love you! before he’s jumping back on stage. 

The poor boy is unable to take his eyes off you for the rest of the night— but on the bright side, there are no missed cues or wrong notes played. He’s just entranced with you for the rest of the encore, his energy seemingly replenished with the way he jams out to the music; mouthing the lyrics even when it’s not his part, maintaining eye-contact with you during songs he knows you’re particularly fond of— and suddenly, the idea of spending his anniversary at a concert isn’t as depressing as it was earlier tonight— because now, he had you by his side. 

⤬⤬⤬

“Beomgyu— Beomgyu please, not here…” you whine, unable to do much but bite your lip and swallow back whines that threaten to escape you, left to Beomgyu’s mercy as he immediately led you to his dressing room after the show— the said man is much too focused on kissing and marking your neck to listen, soft hair brushing against your face as he pulls you flush against him; back pressed against the wall, arched prettily from the way his hands snake around your waist and press your lower half against his— you’re holding back a groan at the way he’s already hopelessly hard against you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be coming? Hmmm? Just wanted to be a tease? Was this your little surprise?” he asks, biting at your skin and huffing out a laugh at the whine that escapes you; your hands are gripping onto his shirt tightly, fisting it in your hands and wrinkling the material as he lets his teeth sink slightly near your collarbones, “god, you look so good tonight, you’d really expect me to be able to hold myself back?”

His hands are wandering down your waist; over the swell of your ass, fiddling with the hem of your mini-skirt before he’s venturing under it— feeling the way you shiver against him the moment his hands squeeze at the soft flesh, fingers decorated with rings cold against your skin as he comes back up to kiss you. It’s rough and desperate, lip rings scratching as he kisses you with such hunger it leaves you breathless; he grinds his cock desperately against you, eliciting a small gasp from you and allowing him to slip his tongue inside— the piercing that decorates it scrapes along your mouth, unable to help the way your knees weaken at the feeling of him— his touch is everywhere, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded as you can only melt against him, allowing him to press you flush against the wall with his own body; your miniskirt is riding up along your hips as he situates himself between your legs, panties already a mess as he begins to rut his cock into you. 

“Are you sure you want to wait now, pretty?” he asks, looking down at you with low-lidded and fucked out eyes— he punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, laughing at the way you yelp and tighten your hold on him, “I could stop everything right now, send you back to the hotel like this and make you wait, just like you said— is that what you want?”

Oh, he’s cruel— even more so because you’re left shaking your head no deliriously, your mind fogged with such need that your eyes are glossing over at the very thought of not having Beomgyu inside you right now; your voice is pathetic as you plead Beomgyu to finish what he started, throwing a hand over his shoulder and entangling your fingers into his hair as you pull him back into you— he’s more than eager to return the kiss, tilting his head and pressing himself more against you as a hand reaches down to your thigh; grabbing the back of your knee, guiding you to hook it around his waist as he begins to rut into you mindlessly.

“So cute, my pretty girl,” he mumbles against your lips, eyes trailing down your low-cut top to spot his favorite zip-up, a smile tugging at his lips as he merely sends you a cute smile, “did you miss me that much? Already so needy from a little bit of kissing— god, I love you so much…”

You think he’s mostly talking to himself at this point— spewing nothing but filth as his hands shove your shirt over your chest, grinning as he remains impatient enough to not take off a single item of clothing, choosing to push tug your bra down harshly before he’s swooping down to mark your breasts with a cruel smile.

“Looked so fucking hot out there, just made me wanna take you backstage and fuck you there,” he confesses, listening to the choked whine you let out, his pierced tongue playing with your hardened nipples, leaving them swollen and sensitive. He’s looking up at you with doe eyes that contrast greatly with the way he sticks his tongue out for you, letting you watch the way he circles and toys with the cute jewelry he bought for you earlier today, pulling away with a coy smile and leaving them soaked with his spit— he blows softly on them, watching with tentative eyes as you keen at the feeling. 

“God, you know I’ve been wanting to do this every time I see you at one of our shows? To make sure that everyone that looks at you knows just who,” he rolls his hips into you, nice and slow and letting you feel the length of his cock press against you as you flutter your eyes shut from pleasure, “you’re here for?”

“Fuck, gyu,” you pant out, snaking your hands under his shirt and up his back, grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him into you— as if there’s still space between the two of you, as if you’d die if you weren’t touching him at all times, “‘m only yours, only want you…” 

He’s sneaking a hand down to move your panties to the side, the two of you much too desperate to shed off any layers— and as you listen to the clinking sounds of his belt, undoing his jeans and pulling out his hardened cock, you busy yourself by sucking and biting at his neck, listening to his stuttered breaths as you suck and tease at the joint of his neck, his most sensitive spot as you bite at it playfully— you’re only pulling away at the feeling of Beomgyu grabbing at you hair and tugging you away, letting out a baffled laugh at the satisfied look you give him in return. 

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” you coo out softly, grinding your pussy slowly against Beomgyu’s tip that teases your entrance, your mouth falling open at the feeling of him mirroring the action, running along your folds and swiping at your clit, “all mine, my pretty boy…”

He laughs fondly against your lips at that— bringing you in for a slow kiss, feeling the way your mind goes blank the moment his tip slowing enters you; he’s swallowing a soft moan from you as he bottoms out slowly, keeping himself deep inside and grinding his hips slowly against yours— and he stays there, a tease like always as he watches your brows furrow and your lips pout, telling him softly to move, to do something.

“Mmmh, all yours,” he mumbles softly, pulling out slowly to let you feel the way every vein runs against your walls, clenching and fluttering against his length as he hisses at the feeling, “I’m yours, belong only to you, fuck…”

He’s not able to keep this agonizingly slow pace up for long— as much as he wants to tease you, to have you crying and pleading for him to fuck you stupid, he isn’t fairing that well himself— so it isn’t long before he’s beginning to snap his hips into you, cock curving and aiming for that spot that has your knees buckling, pretty nails digging into Beomgyu’s shoulders and biting at the skin in order to try to stabilize yourself.

“Such a perfect cunt— fuck, ah, just wanna fill you up, wanna see it dripping down those pretty thighs— stupid fucking skirt can’t hide anything, ugh—” his voice is deep and breathy as he continues to talk into your ear, his hands sliding down to the swell of your ass before he’s holding it there— lifting you up, forcing you to hook your legs around his waist as you’re left to his mercy; his chest is pressed flush against yours as he fucks you, and you can only bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your sounds, the rough way you bounce from his thrusts causing your nails to slip and scratch down his back— he hisses at the feeling, only to be spurred by the stinging sensation it leaves behind. 

“So loud, shit,” he laughs meanly, grinning at the way you only bury your face into him more to try and muffle your sounds, “want everyone to hear you? All the staff, the members— I’m sure they’d like to see what a pretty doll you are for me.”

You shake your head at that— but your body gives you away as your cunt clenches around him pathetically, the wet sounds of skin against skin filling the room and undoubtedly filtering outside— but you remain persistent to keep your moans to yourself, choking back on sounds of pleasure as Beomgyu only begins to fuck you rougher; your silence is a challenge, one he’ll gladly take as he begins to roll his hips into you just the way you like it. 

“Come on pretty, I wanna hear you,” he purrs into your ear, a hand snaking around to rub at your clit while the other remains firm on your ass, “don’t you feel good? I can make you feel even better— so, so so good, just let me hear your cute little sounds.”

You’re playing hard to get. And Beomgyu takes absolute pleasure in it, watching the way you shake and dig your nails into him helplessly, your body being wound up from how good he fucks you; your thighs are sticky and shining from your arousal, poorly concealed pleasure only fueling Beomgyu’s ego further as he reaches up to tug your head out from it’s hiding spot.

He thinks he might just cum on the spot; your makeup is ruined, tears of mascara running down your cheeks as you merely let out soft hiccups of moans, your lips parted and brain completely empty as you stare at him— he smiles at you in return, capturing your lips in another kiss as his hand begins to trail down; toying with your breasts, nimble fingers pinching and rolling your nipples as you jolt and whine into his mouth at the sensation. 

“Gyu— gonna— need to, ah…!” the choked whimpers you let out aren’t enough for Beomgyu, and he only slows down at your request; fresh tears stream down your cheeks as you plead softly, breathy voice barely above a whisper as you whine quietly to keep going, don’t stop, please gyu, pleeaaase…. 

“Hmm? What’s that? I can’t hear you, baby,” he murmurs softly against your lips, slowing to nothing but a grind as he presses himself against you— pelvis grinding against your clit, the feeling making you tremble as you dig your nails into his shoulders once more. “Come on sweet thing, tell me what you need.”

You’re telling him— begging, pleading, breathy whimpers and soft cries escaping you as you roll your hips into him, biting your lip and sighing exasperatedly at the way he simply watches you with dark eyes, slowing down until he’s simply bottomed out inside you. 

“What do you want?” he asks softly, breathy voice intertwined with a lilt so sweet you’d almost think he pities you— and by the way he’s looking at you, he just might, swollen lips caught between his teeth to try and suppress a smile. You’re still weak and quiet as you try to voice your wants, looking at him through wet lashes, a pout on your face as your hands run absentmindedly up and down his back.

“Wanna cum?” he coos, pretty hand reaching down to circle and pinch your clit teasingly, “Want me to fuck you? Fill you up? Hmmm?”

All you can do is nod along to his words stupidly— and obviously, it’s the very last thing your boyfriend wants, abandoning your clit and reaching up to grab your face roughly; fingers digging into your cheeks, forced to look at him as he merely glares at you and speaks through gritted teeth. 

“Tell me,” he says, voice sharp and dangerous as he narrows his eyes, “use your words— or, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already.”

He’s unhooking one of your legs from his waist at that; you’re stumbling slightly, leg too weak to let you stand as you merely cry at him to wait, bringing him closer to you in fear that he might pull out and leave you like this— his fingers still dig into your cheeks as you speak, drool building up at the corners of your pouty lips as you stutter out exactly what you want— what he wants to hear.

“Want you to fuck me, use me— wanna cum, please,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as he shakes your head teasingly, as though to say and what else? “Want you to cum inside, baby please, just wanna feel good—”

You’re rambling at this point. But Beomgyu enjoys it nonetheless, telling you to keep going as he begins to move again; slowly at first, allowing you to feel the drag of his thick cock against your walls as your words become stuttered through weak moans, the sight making your boyfriend laugh as he slowly begins to pick up his pace. 

“Like it when I fuck you like this, yeah?” you’re nodding in confirmation to his words; staring at him with pleading eyes, whimpering a soft harder, faster, that the man is immediately obliging as he coos at the way you yelp at the sensation. “Want it harder? Hmmm? Want me to fuck you ‘till you can’t even walk—? Have to carry you out of here, let everyone see the way your sweet cunt is filled up by me?”

All you can do is nod to his words at this point; whimpering a weak yes, yesyesyes, want you to fill me up, use me, more more please—

Everything crashes down on you unexpectedly; your eyes are shutting tight and you think you might just black out as your orgasm hit you suddenly, cunt squeezing and fluttering around Beomgyu’s cock as he groans at the sensation— he lets you ride it out, cooing soft praise into your ear before he’s pulling you in for another kiss; you’re barely able to kiss him back, moaning into his mouth and letting him do whatever he wants with you.

It isn’t long before he’s cumming inside you as well; you’re so tight he can barely move, your cute whimpers and warm cunt guiding him through it as he fucks into you slowly, making sure none of his release slips out as he continues to fuck you, even after he’s become horribly sensitive. Then he’s still, lips still on yours and arms wrapped tightly around you as though he’s afraid to let you go.

“You okay?” he asks quietly after a moment, still lingering close to you, taking in your appearance with tentative eyes. You nod softly, still attempting to catch your breath as you chest heaves against his; he huffs out a soft laugh, caressing your cheek fondly before he’s going to fix your clothes— your mini-skirt remains up on your hips, his cock still bottomed out inside you as he coos about how good you were for him, caressing any skin he can get his hands on (which is a lot, considering your wardrobe) with a smile.

“Pretty girl, so perfect,” he coos, finally pulling out and tucking himself in before he’s going to fix your clothing; not without slipping his fingers inside your cunt one last time, watching with hungry eyes as you curl into him and cry that you’re sensitive— he’s only satisfied after his cum is left snug in your pussy, smiling darkly at the way he brings his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean— you do it without any hesitation, and Beomgyu swears he might just be getting hard again. 

“Love you so much, thank you for coming to see me today,” he says instead, bringing you in for a warm hug and a loving kiss; you merely hum tiredly in response, hands slipping out from his shirt only to be thrown over his shoulders leisurely.

Your face feels hot the moment he’s trying to get the two of you to leave back for the hotel— because your legs are absolutely not cooperating with you. 

“Holy shit, I was joking about that whole fuck you till you can’t walk thing,” he laughs, only to get cut of by the way you hit him in response— he’s letting out an exaggerated whimper at that, rubbing his arm and telling you sorry, sorry baby, with a cute pout.

“Ugh, I don’t want anyone to see me like this, fuck,” you mourn, only for Beomgyu to pull you into his side firmly, sending you a smile that’s not as reassuring as you wish it was. 

“I’m sure no one will notice,” he says simply, swinging the door open and immediately being met with Soobin passing by. 

He slows down at the sight of you two, glancing at your appearances briefly before he keeps walking. 

“Try to keep it down next time please,” he yells out, turning the corner and disappearing from your sight before you can retaliate. You feel slightly mortified by his words, but Beomgyu isn’t affected in the slightest as he leans over to murmur softly into your ear.

“Should we continue this at the hotel, pretty?”

You don’t answer his question. But he already knows the answer, sending you a giddy smile and intertwining his fingers with yours as he leads you to where the staff car is waiting for you two— and you hold back a smile of your own as you trail (limp, kinda) behind him. It’ll be a long night, but you couldn’t ask for a better way to spend your anniversary, no matter how unconventional it is.

[rrxnjun]

blondes are done with fun ✲ h. renjun

pairing. journalism student! renjun x journalism student! fem! reader starring. huang renjun, lee donghyuck, yoo jimin, huh yunjin genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. angst, fluff, smut warnings. alcohol consuption, swearing, renjun is a dick at the beginning, sexual content (fingering, unprotected sex) word count. 31k (31.320) a/n. awsten knight please stop making music so i can stop writing fics about your songs thanku. also this is my first smut please be gentle with it also if you're my friend please don't read the smut parts orif you do dont tell me abt it or i will literally kms

playlist. cherry red - waterparks ; fake happy - paramore ; heaven angel - the driver era ; blonde - waterparks ; disaster - conan gray ; raspberry - grouplove ; black butterflies and déjá vu - the maine ; fuck about it - waterpakrs, blackbear ; robbers - the 1975

a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.

✲ PART 1 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

“A rumor has it Huang Renjun and Huh Yunjin broke up,” is the first sentence that lands into your ears when your feet cross the imaginary border of the school premises one early morning, a cup of coffee in your hand as your best friend Jimin breaks the news to you, walking by your side into the university building.

Snapping your head around to look at her in shock and surprise at the news, eyes wide in question, you’re already invested in the love life of your classmates more than you probably should be, but due to multiple reasons that could explain it; one of them being the ordinary human curiosity– mainly created in your brain thanks to the fact that these two had dated for as long as you can remember– another reason being the gossip-oriented side of your personality– the part of it you like to explain through the fact that you’re a Journalism major and the love for gossip is just another part of your (hopefully) future occupation– and the last reason, the one that is probably the most harmless of them all (or maybe the most, depending on how you look at it) is the mere fact that while Huang Renjun had been a taken man for as long as you remember, he is also insanely attractive, and you’re just a simple woman. The idea of him being finally attainable is irking something in your brain, and even though you would feel embarrassed to admit this out loud, you can’t help but wonder what happened between those two after such a long time that made the legendary couple– iconic, even– break up. 

“What happened?” you ask, walking alongside the girl as you round the corner of the hall, in a rush to get to your morning class. The two of you slept in by accident, watching too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians last night to notice the clock striking well past midnight, and now the journey to school was more difficult than it already is, with your dorms situated 30 minutes away and the class starting at 8 o’clock sharp. The time is now 7:58AM and while you’re already in the building and yours and Jimin’s classes are different, they are both on the fifth floor– and with the frequency of your visits to the gym, the way up there is hard not only because of the time pinch, but also because of the shortness of your breath when you rush to walk up there in less than five minutes before you have to take the walk of shame to your desk, watched by the professor with passive aggressive eyes.

“Nobody knows,” Jimin heaves out, taking two steps at once now, “I just heard from Yizhuo that Yunjin deleted all of their Instagram posts together and she supposedly stopped wearing that necklace he got her for their anniversary. Oh and also, Renjun didn’t drop her off at school on Friday, so something must be up.”

Humming in agreement, you rush up the stairs, the halls already emptied out because all of the students are hidden in their respective classroom. You manage to keep your voice down in case anyone’s listening in on your insensitive gossip, now that your voices aren’t drowned out by any other noise. “That’s weird. They’ve been together for so long, I’m starting to lose faith in real love if they really broke up.”

“No, yeah, I know,” Jimin squints as the two of you finally reach the fifth floor, the girl checking the time on her wristwatch huffing out at the sight of already being late, “something bad must have happened, if they really broke up, because the two of them didn’t seem like they’ve had any problems, you know.”

“Definitely,” you nod, pacing along the hall as you finally reach the door to your classroom, waving your roommate off with a tight-lipped smile, still trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you after class?”

The girl doesn’t even turn around as she agrees with you, long legs striding down the hall into the last classroom on the left, waving at you with her right hand. “See ya!”

Silently opening the door to the classroom, you notice the professor already standing at the very front of the class, turning around to look at your figure once the almost unhearable noise of the door cuts through the silence in the room. Offering her a shameful smile, you hurriedly scan the space, feeling the eyes of everyone glued to your sweaty and out of breath body, as you try to find a place to sit. Your usual seat is right at the corner of the room, at the very back– it has the window in close accessibility, so you don’t have to worry about being too hot or too cold, depending on the weather, because you regulate the freshness of the air in the classroom. The window also provides a good distraction to you once the class gets too boring to listen to, so you’d say with 100% sureness that the desk you chose to sit at the very first day of your Journalism class was the best option. 

However, when you look at the usually empty desk for two– one of the chairs, the one closer to the corridor being your handy armrest as well as a place to put your coat and bag on as you sit on the other one, the one closer to the window– you notice a man sitting at your usual place, eyes glued to the whiteboard. Feverishly scanning the classroom once again, realizing in terror that there is no other empty space for you to sit at, you sigh in annoyance as you near your usual desk, cursing the intruder in your brain for breaking the unwritten seating plan. 

Taking the bag off your shoulder, you softly land it to the ground, afraid of making any noise that would interrupt your professor’s lecture again. After sitting at the chair and trying to listen to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth, trying to see what she’s talking about, you find yourself drifting off into the mess of your thoughts, choosing to daydream about the amazing lunch you’re about to have once your classes are over for the day, your eyes knowingly moving away from the whiteboard to their place out of the window. It’s a little harder to gaze out of it in the different position– you tell yourself you’ll come earlier next week so the intruder doesn’t take away your spot again and you can go back to your usual plan of watching people walking through the campus and making up fake stories about them in your brain– when your periphery vision takes notice of the side profile of your seatmate, the curve of his nose and the slight pout of his upper lip sparking interest in you as your brain finally connects the dots.

Only slightly moving your head to the side, so your seatmate doesn’t notice you staring, you observe Huang Renjun sitting at your desk. The image in front of you (or beside you, to be precise) surprises you to an extent nothing has ever surprised you before (no, not even the birthday parties Jimin has thrown you have made this effect on you– but that’s probably because she can’t keep a secret and always spoiled the surprise), and once again, there are multiple reasons for your surprise. To list a few, you’d start with the fact that Huang Renjun almost always sat at the same desk with his girlfriend Yunjin– the desk was at the very opposite corner of the room, leaving you to occasionally observe the couple as he landed a hand onto her thigh or let her put her leg into his lap, away from the eyes of the professor– but due to the news that were broken to you just a few minutes prior, maybe this is the only reason that shouldn’t surprise you with the sight of Renjun sitting by your side. Continuing the list, you’d state the fact that the boy looks lifeless– his eyes lost their usual spark and there are dark circles adorning his lower eyelids, the sick look making you feel almost sorry for your classmate. And to finish the list, you’d state the fact that takes you by surprise the most– the one that shocks you to your core, for it’s the reason why you didn’t recognise the boy when you first sat down in the first place. His hair is now bleach blond, and while the look definitely suits him, it’s something different, something new– because for as long as you can remember, not many things changed in Renjun’s appearance over the years, and you’re not so sure if you can consider this as the side effect of his breakup, or if he really just wanted change.

Blinking at the male, as if to make sure that you’re not dreaming, you take notice of the dead strands falling into his eyes, contrasting well with the darkness of his eyes. Once again noting that you’re just a simple woman and Huang Renjun is simply put, a very attractive man, you can’t help but gaze at him with a newly found interest, everything you’ve learned about the male this morning irking you with undeniable curiosity.

The sad and embarrassing reality of it all is, though, that you’re not the only one who gets that weird feeling of someone staring at you in public sometimes, only for that feeling to be true as you turn around and see someone with their eyes burning through your skull; Huang Renjun gets them as well, it seems, as he turns his head to you with his eyebrows furrowed, as if to silently ask you why the hell you’re creepily staring at his side profile in the middle of your Journalism class. The two of you were never close, despite sharing multiple classes over the course of multiple semesters, and so being caught only made you feel more embarrassed as you sharply turn your head towards the front of the classroom– so much for being subtle and nonchalant about it, erasing all the possibility of playing it off in the process– feeling heat creeping up your neck. 

This is not how you imagined your morning to go.

Trying hard to pay attention to the class instead, in order to both learn something and also forget about the events happening only a few seconds prior, there’s no use as your brain now decided to replay the moment over and over again, making sure you never forget about it and randomly think of it in the middle of the night 5 years from now, still not moving on from the shame. In the process of trying so hard to focus, you actually do quite the opposite– as if your brain decided to turn off from the essence of humiliation instead to protect you– and before you notice it, the class is over and everyone is scattering out of the classroom with their things and bags hung over their shoulders. At least it’s finally over, you think, when a voice lands into your ear, shaking you out of it.

“We’re doing the project together,” he says, and as you turn around to face the owner of the saccharine voice to inquire him on what the actual fuck he’s even talking about, before you get the chance, the man is already out of the room, leaving you standing in full dumbfoundance.

Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the class, after all.

Next week, even though you arrive to class earlier than the last, it seems like your designated seat in the corner of the classroom is now your and Renjun’s designated seat in the corner of the classroom, and if you’re being totally honest, this is exactly the thing you did not expect to come up on your Junior year bingo card. Talking over the whole interaction with Jimin right when you got to dorms– alongside with the takeout you ordered in the restaurant that’s at the corner of the street– the both of you stared into your plates with a newly found sense of absolute, utter confusion. 

You also had to shamefully text one of the only classmates from your Journalism class whose number you have– Osaki Shotaro, who you had a thing with in Freshman year because you thought he was an exchange student and would go back to Japan after summer, surprising you with his smiley face in the class in your Sophomore year (and this year, once again) as you had to be reminded of making out with him at a party every time your eyes landed on the poor boy– about the assignment. The truth is, you could just ask Renjun when you got into class, but you also wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment of that action. Through your fling from Freshman year, you learned that you have to work in pairs on a magazine of some sort– and while the assignment still wasn’t clear to you, after Shotaro ended the text message with ‘i’m sorry tho, i already have a partner ://’, you didn’t have enough dignity in you to pry him for any more information.

Clearing your throat as you step inside the classroom with an encouraging slap to your bottom coming from your roommate walking along to her usual class at the end of the hall, you walk over to your seat and put your bag onto the ground, silently sitting on the chair next to the corridor– the thing that makes you the most furious about this whole thing– as you prepare for the next lecture. From what you’ve gathered, the assignment was 70% of your final grade, and you really didn’t feel like failing your most favorite subject, especially if it’s something you could see yourself doing in the future. Working on something like this with someone you’ve hardly ever spoken to was a scary feeling, though. 

The class starts as soon as the noise of footsteps fills your ears, your professor standing at the very front of the classroom announcing her arrival with a heartfelt smile on her face. Sometimes you wonder if it’s her cheery demeanor that makes you like the class so much, but then again, you’ve always been interested in the topic– her character is just a bonus.

“Hello class,” she greets, full of energy despite it only being 8 in the morning, “I decided that instead of following with the lectures today, I will leave you some space to plan out your final project for the class. It has the weight of 70% of your grade, so it’s kind of important, so make sure you plan it well and come up with something original and interesting. The contents are 25-35 pages and you have until the end of the semester to complete it, so I hope you all put in some effort!”

Nods and hums of understatement are shared along the class, the pairs turning to each other in soft murmurs as some even take out a journal to note down all the things they come up with. You think it’s not a bad idea to at least brainstorm a little, but with how awkward you feel at the moment with your project partner sitting right next to you, you don’t think you can start. And the thing is, Jimin told you you could just pick a different partner– but as you look across the filled classroom, you really don’t think working with anyone else is possible, since you don’t have many friends in this class and everyone seems to be paired up already. Huang Renjun is your only choice, and although it doesn’t fill you with relief, you wonder why he chose you, when in reality, he’s the popular one– he has many different choices to pick from. Maybe he was just too lazy to ask anyone else. Who knows.

Clearing your throat again, you avert your gaze from the front of the classroom and try to sneak a look on your seatmate. The platinum blonde hair neatly styled on his head doesn’t fail to make you shocked again, but you figure you must start to get used to it now, because you can’t keep living with the constant urge to stare at the boy just because he dyed his hair. Waiting for him to look at you or give you any sign of the fact that he’s willing to work on the project, you continue your little staring contest with his side profile– it seems like he’s in the mood to ignore you today, so you gotta bring out the big guns and actually talk to him instead.

“So… how do you want to work on this?” you mumble out, nervously bumping your knee up and down. Human interaction isn’t your favorite thing in the world, mainly because you don’t like things you’re not good at– this includes sports, but mainly volleyball, drawing, knitting and mixing drinks as well– but you’d say with full confidence that making friends and talking to new people is truly the worst thing you could ever imagine. 

You notice that your seatmate finally recognised your efforts to spark up a conversation– he rewards you with a shrug of his shoulders as he not only does not look at you, but also decides to lay on the desk instead, closing his eyes as if this was the perfect time for him to catch up on his lost sleep. “Dunno,” he says, “we have plenty of time, let’s not do this right now.”

Blinking a few times at the male, you are once again struck by lightning that is his weird attitude to things. If this was how he behaved with Yunjin, you can’t blame the girl for breaking up with him– everything about the smug look on his face and the fact that he chose to take your favorite seat in the classroom makes your blood boil with annoyance. 

“W-what?” you stutter out, still not quite believing your ears. 

The man doesn’t reply to you– it’s too much effort, it seems– only making you angrier. Why did he even choose you as his partner if he didn’t want to work on the project in the first place? You’re no stranger to procrastination and leaving work for last minute, and you’re also not really a fan of the feeling of stress creeping up your back whenever you give in to the inevitable action of procrastinating; so if it comes to a project that is quite literally 70% of your grade, you would rather not do everything the week before.

Seeing that you’re getting ignored again, you put on your brave face as you fold your hands on your chest, determined to do something about the issue at hand. “Can’t you just put in some effort, man? I’d rather not do this last minute. I know that you probably don’t give a shit, but I do care about my grades, y’know,” you get out, seeing as the man next to you finally straightens his back and looks at you sharply– as if he has any right to point you with the killing look in this dark eyes– before he squints in mock agony.

“Do you really have to be such a fucking perfectionist?” he snaps at you, taking you by surprise. 

This is not how you imagined Huang Renjun to be. Looking at him over the course of the years, more often than not, you always saw the boy with a welcoming smile on his face. Whenever he was around Yunjin, he was all sweet words and gentle touches, erupting laughter whenever he was around his friends. When you were a freshman, somewhere in the back of your brain, you even envied the circle of friends he had around him, daydreaming about fitting in with them when you were lonely at lunch break. That was before you met Jimin at volleyball practice– the extracurricular you lasted in only for a week with the intention of making some friends (at least it worked) – and moved in with her in your second semester when both of your roommates decided to drop out. The girl provided you with undeniable love and care, and while you no longer desired to fit into a circle like Huang Renjun’s, talking to him now makes you feel like a child with crushed dreams.

“I’m sorry?” is all you get out as you stare at him with shock. If you were in a better mood, you would’ve searched through your brain to find a snarky remark to bite back at the boy. It’s too early in the morning and you weren’t prepared for his attitude, though, so you only opt to stare at him as he sighs in what you presume is annoyance– or defeat– as he scatters through his backpack and takes you a notebook, opening it to the first page and clicking his pen he found somewhere in the depths of his bag so he can write with it.

Too taken aback from his sudden change of mind, you wait for him to initiate any other action. You really don’t feel like getting screamed at again, so you chose to play it safe as you watch the man scribble the words Final project at the very top of the paper, underlining it two times and circling it five, the weird ritual making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“25 pages. We split half and half, so you can come up with whatever you want. We can do the design together and I really couldn’t give less shit about who works on the cover, so if you really want to do it, you can. Good?” he says, not once looking at you as he writes the words down on the paper. 

“Amazing,” you bite back with irony, shuffling your chair closer to the table so you can take a look at his notes, “the magazine has to have a coherent theme, though, doesn’t it? If we work on the pages by ourselves and just do whatever, as you said, it’s gonna be shit.”

You chose to accommodate yourself to the pattern of his speech– a habit you always do with new people, but in this situation, what feels the most safe. Seeing the man sigh again, twirling the ballpoint pen in between his fingers, he shrugs at your point and offers you a half-assed solution.

“We can figure that out later.”

Biting back a chuckle at his comment, it’s now your turn to sigh. Why was he being so difficult? Is it really that hard to make an effort on something important, especially when he was the one who said he wanted to work with you in the first place? Shaking your head in disbelief at his actions, you lean back in your chair and take out your own notebook, set on the decision of brainstorming as much as you can, hopefully coming out with some solid ideas you could incorporate in the magazine.

You have no idea what direction Renjun would go with. You don’t know anything about his interests or hobbies, and you surely don’t know what would inspire him or what he would want to write about. And with his new change of persona, you find him even more unreadable than he’s been in the past– and you can’t say you like the way he treats you right now. It seems like his sudden metamorphosis managed to change his brain synapses as well, because this is not the idea of Huang Renjun that you knew until now.

Chewing on the end of your pencil, you take a glimpse of your seatmate. He is messily scribbling something down onto his paper, seemingly realizing that the sooner you start working on this, the better, and with how full his paper seems to be, you wonder if this project won’t be that hard to complete after all.

“We’re doing the cover together,” you mumble out, seeing as the boy tears his eyes off his paper, glaring at you instead.

Almost expecting him to snap at you again, awaiting his suggestion that you will be the one doing all the work, you’re left with an answer that satisfies you with yet another surprise. “If you really insist…”

“Are you really sure you want to do this right now?” Jimin asks you as you put on your shoes at the door, slinging your backpack containing not only your laptop and notebooks, but also snacks just in case you get hungry. Looking at her through the hair falling into your face that you efficiently get out of the way with a poof of breath coming out of your mouth, you chuckle at her distress. The girl’s been watching you get ready for the last 15 minutes, with her robe on and bowl of guacamole in her right palm, eating up on the tortilla chips every once in a while as she squints at you with disbelief.

“Yeah, why not?” you shrug. “If he’s initiating this, I don’t see a problem. Besides, I think that if I don’t take every chance I get, I’ll end up working on the project alone, and I really don’t like that idea.”

Humming in agreement for the first time since you told your roommate that Renjun texted you if you wanted to work on the project today, Jimin motions to the phone sitting at the entryway table next to the front door. “Well, just make sure to text me if anything goes wrong and I’ll come pick you up,” she suggests, making you giggle at her noticeable worry. 

“Okay, mum,” you shake your head in disbelief, finally slugging the backpack over your shoulder and walking out of the door of your apartment. 

The truth is, you can’t really blame Jimin for her over-protective behavior. Ever since you retold her everything that happened that one time in Journalism class, she’s been wary of Huang Renjun. You would agree with all of her arguments of how much of a dick he is when acting like that, but you also don’t really think you have to put more energy into hating him at this moment, since it won’t really help you with your assignment and you don’t have any other choice. You are stuck with a grumpy project partner and that’s how the rest of your semester will go– you just have to learn how to live with his annoying remarks and snarky comments at whatever you say. Who knows, he may be in his ‘hating all women’ era, considering the breakup and all…

You can’t say you weren’t surprised when he added you on Instagram and messaged you about the project this afternoon, though. Considering that you were always the one initiating the talks about the final assignment over the course of the last few weeks, you weren’t expecting him to finally be the one reaching out. You would be stupid to not take him up on the offer, since you don’t know if it will happen ever again– who knows, he might have accidentally smashed his head into something and get a sudden revelation that is only a one time type of situation– and that’s exactly why you responded to him almost immediately (to which you admittedly, got a bit of an ick from yourself) and agreed to meet him at 6 in his apartment.

You were pleasantly surprised to learn that his place was only a 15 minute walk away from yours when he texted you the address, and after a few more minutes of scrolling through his Instagram that was private– and therefore hidden away from your eyes until now– you set yourself on the difficult journey.

Upon arriving at the apartment building, ringing the door bell and texting him to let you in just in case, so he knows it’s you, you start to feel a bit nervous, though. The truth is, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into as you walk into the elevator and press the button that takes you to the fourth floor– as he texted you the moment the door to the complex opened– and you think it’s safe to imagine you could be running out of that apartment at any given moment. Maybe Jimin was right and you should’ve taken at least some self-defense tools with you. You never know these days.

Once the elevator door opens and you step outside of the small space, you get prepared to take out your phone again to text him and ask which door leads to his apartment– the right or left– when you’re surprised with the sight of Huang Renjun already waiting for you in the doorway, loose sweatpants, messy hair and all, expecting your arrival.

Clearing your throat, you tightly smile at the male. “Hello.”

“Hi,” is all he responds as he moves away from the door and disappears into the apartment, seemingly thinking you're going to follow him and get inside, no questions asked. You expected at least an invitation to his premises, even a wave of his hand would be nice, you think, but you guess you can’t really have expectations that high when it comes to men– especially if the man in question is the insufferable Huang Renjun.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance– because even though your host doesn’t have good manners, you still do– the figure of Huang Renjun suddenly appears in the doorway of one of the rooms, watching you put the sneakers into a corner that seems to be designated for footwear. Looking up at him with expecting eyes, he finally breaks the awkward silence as he takes a step inside one of the rooms, calling you to go after him.

“We can work here, I guess,” he mumbles, leading you into what you presume is a living room connected to a kitchen– the place is not that big, but you are a broke university student too, so you don’t have it in you to judge. The place is surprisingly clean and adorned with multiple plants all around the corners of the room and windowsills, the only thing out of place being some dishes at the kitchen counter, waiting to be either used or put away, since they look washed. There’s a sofa in the shape of an L in the middle of it all, a TV sitting right opposite of it on a small TV stand, and when you notice an opened laptop on the coffee table, you presume that this is your work station for the day. You half expected him to invite you to his bedroom, but you guess that you can’t really complain– this feels much less awkward anyway. 

Nodding at his words, you move to the sofa and rest your backpack against the foot of it. Taking out your laptop as well, you sit crossed-legged at the soft cushions as you watch Renjun walk over to the kitchen side of the room, opening up a cupboard and taking out two glasses, bringing them to the crowded coffee table alongside with a bottle of soda. You think this is his way of welcoming you in as your guest, but you don’t have it in yourself to thank him– he’s the one being silent all the time anyway. You won’t put effort unless he does.

The boy silently takes a seat opposite of you, but chooses the carpeted floor instead of the sofa– a sight that almost makes you chuckle in amusement when he struggles to fold his legs in the small space– sighing and bringing the laptop closer to himself, rubbing a palm across his face in presumed tiredness. 

“Did you work on the ideas for the articles?” you ask, voice low, as if you were afraid to speak first, now that you’re in his space. “If they’re too different from mine, we can make like… sections… in the magazine… or something like that. But I think it would be easier if they correlated, you know.”

Renjun hums, not giving you many words this time either. He’s always difficult to work with, but today, it irritates you twice as much– maybe because you’ve gone out of your way to meet him at his apartment, when it was all his idea to work on the project today in the first place. Sighing in disappointment, the boy takes it as a hint that you expect more of him than tired hums and silent nods, and so he opens his mouth to speak, soft voice echoing through the silent apartment.

“I did,” he says, “don’t really know what you’re going for, but I have a short list.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nod. “Can I see it?”

Shrugging, he looks around for a while, eyes searching through the place as he finally finds the paper peeking out from the bottom of the coffee table– so much for the seemingly clean space– and offers the A4 format to you, scribbles in blue ink almost unreadable as you squint onto them, bringing them closer to your face. Once your eyes finally get adjusted to his handwriting, you manage to decipher a few of the words he’s written down; some of his ideas are neatly described, yet, some of them are just a simple word that barely gives you any idea of what he truly meant to say.

The difference between more thought-out ideas like ‘Karaoke songs (history, questionnaire of favorites across the campus…)’, ‘The importance of art in education’, ‘How to really use wikipedia’ and simple words like ‘campus’, ‘festivals’ and ‘soccer(?)’ almost makes you laugh out loud, but you note that the boy actually took the time of his day to work on the project like he promised you he would the last time you spoke about it in class, so you can’t really say anything mean to him, for you truly think it would hurt his pride. Nodding as you finish reading over the list, you offer the paper back to him, noticing him watching you with eyes full of undeniable expectancy.

“Satisfied?” he asks, irony seeping through his voice. 

Rolling your eyes at him– because of course he has to be annoying about everything– you choose to not play by his rules, opting to nod instead and let the tiniest bit of irritation show only through your ironic smile as you reply to him. “Very, actually.”

Seeing as he’s satisfied with himself, you choose to continue to lead this meeting with the same energy as to this moment. You think it’s the safest choice, and it’s also what he seems to be comfortable with, so you don’t beat around the bush and speak up again. “I think it won’t be that hard to combine our lists, since our ideas aren’t that different,” you note, cringing at the suggestion that you and the man in front of you actually kind of think alike, “but I think it would be nice if we chose a few topics and wrote about them together. I bet the professor would like to see some articles written by the both of us, so it shows that we actually worked on it together, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” he mumbles under his breath, taking you off guard. See, maybe you got ahead of yourself when you thought that this afternoon might go by smoothly– you forgot for a moment that Huang Renjun enjoys the idea of being a total ass to the people around him (or you, at least) these days. Huffing at his response, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Just… don’t wanna,” he answers shortly, shrugging in nonchalance.

The sight of him in front of you, not even sharing eye contact as he points his gaze towards his laptop, makes your blood boil. What does he even think of himself? You were starting to think that Jimin was right– you should’ve rethought this interaction over and spared yourself the trouble, because this was surely not going anywhere.

“Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you were clearly the one that told me we were project partners, so I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this-” you huff, but are instantly cut off by your partner.

“I’m being difficult?”

“Yes,” you jump in, “yes you are! And I don’t get why you even invited me over to work on this, when you clearly don’t have the slightest intention to do so in the first place!” you complete, almost ready to stand up from your place on the light-brown sofa and storm out of his apartment. 

He chuckles at your outburst, rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not in the mood to work on a stupid project after arguing the whole day on the phone with my cheating ex-girlfriend,” he mutters.

The moment those words come out of his mouth, it seems like the already silent apartment gets even quieter. Staring at him in dumbfoundance, the spark that ignited the anger in you suddenly dies out as you ponder on your next actions. Because what does one do when your project partner suddenly overshares possibly one of the most traumatic and heartbreaking facts about himself so casually, in between snarky comments and a petty argument? Sure, you do feel sorry for him now– because no matter how shitty a person acts to you, nobody deserves to get cheated on– and you suddenly wonder if the whole change of atmosphere in his character isn’t the direct result of this very fact. 

You can’t tell him that you’re sorry– because frankly, you know that Huang Renjun doesn’t want your pity. He doesn’t want to hear that you feel sorry for him and what happened, because you’re not friends and you’re not close enough for you to express such feelings towards him. A question arises in the very same essence, though, making you wonder why he even chose to share this information with you in the heat of the moment in the first place, and even though you could excuse his lack of motivation to work on the project by this fact, it still doesn’t change the reality that he was the one initiating the whole thing, and suddenly, you feel confused. 

He invited you over to work on a project, even though his mood was shitty and he didn’t have the motivation to do so. One would find that ridiculous, but if you really look past the sharp eyes and the bleached mess on his head, you could see the true intention behind his actions– the poor boy just wanted a distraction. And with how empty his apartment seems to be right now– his roommate, Donghyuck (a person that Jimin shares a Finance class with, as you learned this very afternoon) is nowhere to be seen– you only bet you were the last option he had instead of wallowing himself in pity and terror. 

Jimin would argue that you’re stupid for your next actions– you would even agree, because this truly doesn’t feel like you– but still, despite going against yourself in a way, you close the laptop sitting in your lap and reach over to the soda he placed in the middle of the coffee table, pouring yourself a glass. You don’t leave his apartment like you fantasized of doing just a few minutes ago; instead, after downing the sickeningly sweet liquid, the bubbles hurting your throat, you rest your back against the sofa and watch the boy in a new light.

“Okay, let’s not work on the assignment, then,” you calmly say, “wanna watch something on Netflix instead?” you ask, seeing him staring at you with confusion in his expression.

“I don’t-”

“It’s okay if you don’t have it, I can log in with my roommate’s account. She’s probably watching Single’s Inferno right now, but I’ll text her to find something better to do instead,” you don’t let him finish his sentence– because you already know that he’d try to protest to your suggestion– shrugging in nonchalance as you reach over to the TV remote you find sandwiched between the sofa cushions.

Turning the TV on, not even sparing a glance to the grumpy-looking boy sitting on the floor opposite of you, the shuffling of clothes and socked-feet on the ground lands into your ears, a figure taking the remote out of your hand when you can’t figure out how the TV works, a low mumble full of fake offendance masking the shameful, yet clear gratitude in his voice.

You don’t miss it as you look over at him with a tight-lipped smile, though, seeing the Netflix app suddenly come up on the TV, his shoulders relaxing as he settles into the cushions of the sickeningly colored sofa. 

“Of course I have Netflix, what do you think I am, poor?” he grunts.

…and the old Renjun is back.

Arriving at class the next week, you’re finally met with less nervousness than the last few times. After interacting with Huang Renjun more and seeing him break his stone-cold demeanor in front of you as you two watched Netflix– he even made popcorn after the second episode of Unsolved mysteries you decided to watch when you saw the show in his ‘continue watching’ list and gushed about how it’s your favorite (to which he told you that you’re weird, but he’s the one binge watching it too, so you really don’t know why you’re the problem and he's not). Thankfully he doesn’t seem as smug and insufferable as he did before. It’s not like you’re suddenly best friends or anything, but you can feel the ice between you melting with every word he sends your way that isn’t laced with irony– not that there's many of them, since Huang Renjun loves his sarcasm– but it’s progress in your book.

Walking over to your usual seat in the classroom, making your backpack fall to the ground next to your desk with a soft thud, you sit at the chair and take out your things for the class when you notice something standing in the way of your notebook and pencil case in the middle of the table. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you move the cup of coffee out of your way, closer to your seatmate’s side. Sighing, you mumble under your breath. “Don’t you have enough space for your things on your side of the table?”

“That’s yours,” he deadpans. Gaze switching between the cup of iced americano from the coffee shop at the corner of the campus (you know it by the plastic cup with their logo on it– it's too tacky for your liking and you even gushed about it to Jimin the day the café opened) and the blonde boy next to you, confusion doesn’t seem to leave your insides as you let out an unfocused hum, showing him that you’re still not following. 

“Do you not like coffee or something?” he hisses, seemingly annoyed at your expression. If you saw yourself in the mirror, maybe you’d understand his frustration– your brows are furrowed and there's a crease in the middle of your forehead from how hard you're racking your brain to come up with answers– but now, you’re just in utter disbelief. Maybe you are a little slow– it’s only 8 in the morning, to your defense– but you really don’t remember bringing coffee to school today. Especially not an iced americano– you don’t like the bitter taste, opting to choose a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato or the infamous pink drink that Jimin teased you for the last time you got it. So how did this strange cup of coffee end up on your table?

Looking around the space, noticing another half-empty cup of coffee on Renjun’s side of the table, the label on the plastic the same as the cup that was waiting on your side, you finally connect the dots. “Did you get that for me?”

“Yeah,” he nods, not even looking at you as he agrees, taking another sip of his coffee instead. 

Now, you do finally know where the strange cup of coffee came from. Why did Renjun buy you coffee in the first place, though, is still a mystery to you, but you guess with how he’s avoiding your gaze, eyes glued to the white board and an uninterested expression sitting on his face, you think it’s better to not ask him any other follow-up questions. He did something nice for you, and with how your thoughts and rationalization are the only clues you can use in figuring out the reason behind it, you wonder if this was his way of apologizing for being rude to you and thanking you for hanging out with him last week.

“Thanks,” you mumble out instead, smiling at his humming figure that barely acknowledges your spoken gratitude. Taking a sip of the drink, while trying really, really hard not to scowl at the bitter taste, you shift your focus on the class instead, taking notes from time to time. Drinking the coffee as if it was a disgustingly tasting medicine your mother forced you to take when you were little– you hated the taste, but had to get through it anyway– you eventually finish your iced americano somewhere in the middle of the lecture. You feel kind of proud of your acting skills, but there’s also an annoying voice somewhere in the back of your head asking you why you even forced yourself to get through that drink anyway and why is it that you didn’t want to hurt Renjun’s feelings by refusing it in the first place. 

But like anyone in your position would, you shush that voice out of your head.

“Did you finish watching the whole season last week?” you ask instead, suddenly interested in having a conversation with him. After you told Jimin about how your weird hang-out with Renjun went, she practically scolded you for not going home right after he let out the first snarky comment out of his mouth. And maybe she’s right and the whole thing you’re trying to do– but what are you even trying to do in the first place? – makes you seem like you’re out of your mind, but at the end of the day, you did finally progress in watching the TV show after putting it on hold for multiple months because your dear roommate wouldn’t stop begging you to watch all of the seasons of Too hot to handle with you instead, so it’s a win in your book.

“I didn’t,” he replies, his voice quiet enough only for you to hear, not interrupting the rest of the class, “Hyuck, my roommate, didn’t come home until like 11pm and I got too creeped out to watch it alone after you left,” he completes, his face completely serious as he utters out the laughable words.

Chuckling at his response, you see him crack a smile from the corner of your eye. The sight is a rather pleasant one, for you think you've  forgotten how it looks in what seems like ages since the obvious breakup with his girlfriend happened, the reminder of his squinted eyes and full cheeks making you feel accomplished, in a way. “Didn’t think you were the type to get scared so easily,” you tease him.

“Not scared,” he huffs out, offended, “just creeped out. That’s different.”

“Did you wait for your roommate because you were too scared to go to sleep?” you test the waters with more teasing, your tone light and playful.

“No, I waited for him because the last time he got home late and I was asleep, he came home drunk and broke down the door to his room and we had to get it replaced,” he announces, making you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand as you almost burst out into a loud giggle. 

“You know what? Yeah. Valid.”

Your conversation falls silent after that, and it makes your spirit fall for a split second. You don’t even know why you wanted it to continue– you don’t know your seatmate, and frankly, you shouldn’t have the desire to do so in the first place. But the sudden act of service thrown your way, although the coffee was disgusting and he could’ve presented the gift to you in a different, more welcoming way, made you get your hopes up– about what exactly, though? 

Jimin always told you that desperately wanting to be everyone’s friend (despite being socially awkward and kind of nervous around new people), is one of your best and worst qualities at the same time. Best, because it means that you’re nice to people– worst, because you’re nice even to people that don’t deserve your kindness; and you also get too disappointed when people don’t share the same enthusiasm with you. Maybe some friendships are meant to keep at surface level, and if this was the type of relationship you and your project partner are about to have, you’re going to have to let go of that annoying voice in your head that keeps telling you to get deeper than that level.

“Why did you dye your hair, by the way?” you ask him nonetheless, after a few heartbeats of silence, curiosity getting the best of you. The moment this question leaves your mouth, you regret it– thinking you somehow could’ve made the boy uncomfortable, your words annoying to his ears– but instead of rolling his eyes at you or telling you to shut up, he replies instead. The reaction surprises you– he really conditioned you to think that every question of yours is going to be met with spite and tantrum, didn't he?

“Dunno,” he says, shrugging, “they say blondes have more fun, so I think it’s only natural to go blonde when you’re sad. To cancel it out, or something,” he snickers as he looks at you, realizing the implication of his words makes the whole statement kind of embarrassing, his tight-lipped smile being the proof of his internal battle not to cringe at his explanation.

You understand, humming in acknowledgment. You’re just a simple woman, after all– you very well understand the urge to change your hair after a breakup. While it is a visible proof of his mental breakdown, you guess you can’t really blame him for trying to feel like there are things that are under his control; even if it’s just the color of his hair.

Walking along Renjun, the atmosphere is thick and a little awkward. Your bag is heavy on your back and you’re slowly starting to feel a bit of an ugly sting in your bones from it; you mourn the fact that you decided to ask Renjun to walk there with you instead of having to take the bus by yourself, too afraid of getting the address wrong and getting lost along the way. You’d love any kind of transport instead of your own two legs right now, since the walk seems to be never ending and you’re pretty certain that the backs of your feet have calluses from wearing your new shoes that you got from a clearance sale from the Nike store at the corner of the town. 

Clearing your throat, you decide to spark up a conversation. It seems like you always have to be the one to initiate things when it comes to Renjun– it’s kind of ironic, though, when you think of the fact that he was the one that made you be his project partner in the first place.“Why did you wanna do the article about the shelter? I didn’t know you were an animal person,” you hum, testing the waters with a casual question. 

Looking up at you, furrowing his brows, the man offers you an indifferent shrug. “My friend Taeyong works there and he wanted to advertise the shelter a little, so I offered to take pictures for his Facebook page in exchange for me writing the article about it,” he mumbles, “he thinks that would give the shelter more exposure too, but I doubt it. Nobody’s gonna read our fake magazine anyway, it’s just an assignment…”

Humming, you kick the rocks on the pavement, a tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. Huang Renjun must do a lot for his friends, you think. You remember him taking pictures for his friend Xiaoting once– she’s an influencer (a model, if you want) and well known around the campus. When you saw his instagram username in one of the picture descriptions one day, you were surprised at the quality of those shoots (and it also led you to stalking his instagram for a bit, but that’s not the main point of this conversation). You also remember seeing him with his friends Shotaro and Yangyang in a team when it was your school’s annual Sports day (you’d argue that you’re not high schoolers anymore and this day is useless, but your classmates seem to think otherwise) trying his best, despite not really liking sports in the first place– or so you heard and seen from how badly he did in most disciplines except from running– and if that’s not a sign of him doing everything he could just to make his friends happy, you don’t know what is. So to see him doing an article about the animal shelter Taeyong works at, despite being more of a plant person himself, you’re not as surprised as you thought you’d be. He does show affection to his friends, after all– you’re just not one of them to see that side of him often.

Walking some more, you eventually end up in front of a big building painted a light tangerine color, windows decorated with pretty curtains on full display to you. Renjun chimes in like a regular, crossing multiple halls and taking sharp turns before you’re met with the image of a taller man with dark brown hair putting small, pastel colored collars on necks of a few little creatures running around the room, despair clearly written on his face.

“No! Don’t run away, oh god-”

Chuckling at the view of yet another kitten running away from his hands, you admire the fluffy little cats crawling all around the place, your heart quickly softening at the sight of them. It’s been a while since you were around animals yourself– the dog you had back home died the summer before the semester started and you weren’t really in the mood to get a new one, since you weren’t going to be around much anyway. 

When yet another kitten escapes the man’s hold, you find yourself watching Renjun as he crouches to the floor and swiftly takes one into his hands, walking closer to the man with collars in his hands, grinning to himself. “Here you go.”

“Man, the cats hate me… where did you two get here?” he shakes his head in disbelief, putting a collar onto the small cat before he pets it on its tiny head.

“Just a minute ago,” Renjun says, “is that one Poppy?” he asks, reading the name tag dangling from the little band around its head, affection filling his words.

“Now it is. I got confused when they all started running around,” he shrugs, sighing as he looks around the room, counting the last few kittens that needed their collars. His eyes soon land on you, a welcoming smile spreading on his boxy lips. “Hey! I’m Taeyong. You must be Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, trying to make yourself seem as nice as possible. You don’t know what Renjun told him about you, but if they were bad things, you only hope to undeceive the man with your warm attitude. 

Renjun then puts the kitten down, and while you’d expect it to run away from him and join its siblings in the corner of the room, the creature does quite the opposite– it stays by his side and lays on the ground close to him, making even Taeyong himself gasp at the image. “Wow,” he snickers, “you should start coming here every time I need to put these on them, you’re like a cat whisperer.”

While the two of them chat, you stay a little behind, not really wanting to intrude. You take off the heavy bag and take out your camera, deciding to take a few pictures of the shelter instead, so you can say you worked on the interview with him. You think it’s expected of you, since he asked you to come along despite being absolutely fully capable of doing the interview with his friend alone, so you do your work and zoom in on the two of them talking, snapping a few quick pictures. 

After a while, you take a seat on the ground– being the infamous enjoyer of sitting on the hard surface of it, earning yourself a lot of scolding screams from your mother growing up– and fully take in the interior. The walls are the same light tangerine color as the outside ones, and there’s a little enclosure in the corner of the room that would surely make Taeyong’s job much easier if only he had used it. There are bags of cat food in the other corner of the room, and while the shelter doesn’t look very modern or fancy, you think it’s kinda homey and welcoming. You bet kids would love it here– with the colorful atmosphere and the smiley worker running around catching kittens, and after a while of taking pictures of everything your eyes land on, you find your inner child healing, little by little.

The truth is, you always wanted a cat. But you were never able to get one, because your mother hates them. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you petted strays on the street and begged her to take them home, you never won this battle– so you had to settle on a dog. And don’t get me wrong, you loved your dog, but at the end of the day, you knew you were more of a cat person anyway.

Reaching forward a little, noticing the kitten waddling your way, you think of petting it– it quickly jumps out of your reach, though, too scared of your touch, and you’re left frowning, the bubble bursts at the rejection from the small ball of fluffiness.

“Taeyong?” you hear a voice of a woman call from the door, the man swiftly turning to her with brows raised in question. “They need your help with the big dogs. They keep dragging Yeri on the leash and she’s too weak to get them to their cages.”

“Oh,” the man deadpans, scratching his neck for a bit before he turns to Renjun again, escaping the room in one swift motion, “I’ll be right back!”

The room falls silent after that, no longer having the background noise of their conversation playing as you observe the animals. You feel the atmosphere growing thicker again, and as time passes by, you find yourself taking short glances at your project partner, wondering what’s on his mind. One moment, he’s crouching down and petting the cats that come his way, the other, he is gazing out of the window with a soft frown that takes over his features like a dark shadow, and you wonder when this expression really settled into his face and made itself the default, and why is it not willing to leave. Not really knowing what to say or what to do to make the boy that’s still so out of your reach feel any better, you opt for silence, even though it does get quite heavy and thick over time– and the truth is, you don’t even know why you notice yourself feeling this way so often around him, when all he’s done was give you the cold shoulder so often and then offer you an iced americano you don’t even like in the first place.

Minutes pass and the silence slowly makes your ears ring; you desperately try to find a good solution in your brain– create a script where hanging out with Renjun is easier and less nerve-wrecking– but still, there’s nothing and you’re left with the awkwardness and hesitance. Sighing when another kitten escapes your grasp, you put your hands into your lap and give up on the task, settling on just watching them instead– there was no use in you trying to pet one when all it wanted to do was run away from you.

Watching the group of fluff jumping at each other and sleeping all around the room, your focus only shifts when there’s a kitten suddenly thrusted into your point of view, its big blue eyes staring you down making you awe. You wonder how it got there in a moment of full stupidity before you look up and see your project partner, the cat magnet himself, holding the cat up to you, waiting for you to take it into your hold and pet it. Gazing at him with mouth agape in confusion, he slowly puts the cat into your lap, petting the creature when it settles, and takes a seat opposite of you all in the span of a few seconds, the action making you smile uncontrollably.

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” he mumbles, watching as you pet the kitten in your lap, cooing at the soft fur. There’s a hint of you that desperately wants to adopt it once you finally pet the small cat, but you know that it wouldn’t be a smart idea– animals are banned at dorms and you don’t think you’d have enough energy to take care of another living creature right now anyways.

“They are,” you hum, “I always wanted one.”

“Why didn’t you get one, then?”

“My mum doesn’t like them very much,” you mumble, pouting at the small creature in your hold, as if to apologize for the words coming out of your mouth.

He hums in acknowledgement, picking up another kitten that waddles his way, putting it up on his thigh– his body now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Watching as the animal crawls up his body and tickles him with its claws, soft laughter erupts out of him, making you smile unconsciously at the boy. 

“I’m not really into animals that much,” he says, further proving your earlier claims. See– in some ways, Renjun is easy to read. Just by looking at him, you could tell he’s not a fan of sweet beverages; you can tell he enjoys black coffee– just like the one he brought you that day– and herbal teas, perfectly matching the image of him in your head that’s surrounded by plants rather than animals, just the bit of greenery you saw around the kitchen very clearly still alive and thriving making you believe you are correct in this assumption as well. One can say a lot about a person by the way they dress, and with Renjun’s casual, yet cozy attire, you can tell he dresses for himself, choosing comfort over style, but still looking effortlessly put together at the same time. You would never strike him as someone that makes spontaneous decisions, rather being more focused on a plan, so to see him dye his hair so randomly is a sign of the fact that there’s something crumbling inside of him– a sense of security, maybe a feeling of stableness– that he tries so hard to grasp. 

“They are into you, though,” you giggle when the kitten purrs at his touch, pointing at the cross-eyed creature. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m that irresistible.”

There aren’t many opportunities for you to laugh at his jokes. Mainly because he doesn’t make many, but also because you always notice them being self-deprecating, and you don’t want to support that idea in his head. At this one, though, you send him a soft chuckle and a roll your eyes, showing how you seemingly think the idea is ridiculous and his joke is corny, but deep inside knowing that you resonate with his words.

In a moment of selfishness– an indulgence you try to mask by the fact that you came here because of the assignment and this was your job in the first place– you take your camera and snap a picture of the boy in front of you, his hands holding the small kitten up in air and snickering when he sees you pointing the lens to him in order to capture him playing with the creature. You don’t know what it is that makes your heart warm up at the image that comes up on the screen shortly after, but you figure that’s a problem of future you and there’s no use in pondering about it now.

You don’t know how many minutes pass with just the two of you playing with the kittens, but when Renjun takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, you furrow your brows before he hums. “He’s taking so much time,” he says, sighing. 

All while playing with the fuzzy small balls, you didn’t even notice the time passing by so quickly. You don’t know how much time it’s been, but you assume it could be more than 35 minutes of the two of you left alone in the room, Taeyong seemingly too overwhelmed with the shelter responsibilities.

“Maybe we should go,” he offers, catching you off guard.

“Oh,” you hum, “well, maybe. But you haven’t even done an interview with him yet,” you mumble, your hands lost in the soft fur of the kitten still laying in your lap.

“I can just send him the questions to his email. Perhaps, I’m sure you’ve taken more than enough pictures of the kittens for his Facebook page,” he snickers, shrugging, “I don’t see why we should be staying here if he’s busy, we’re only putting more work on him.”

“I- I mean…” you mumble, trailing off at the end. You don’t really wanna say goodbye to the kittens, the healing in your heart not quite done yet, when the boy next to you laughs at what you presume is your emotions showing clearly on your face.

“Unless you wanna play with them more, of course. We can stay a little longer, then.”

The autumn season slowly fades into winter, time passing by quicker than you could even grasp. The shock and surprise of having to work on the lengthy project with Renjun morphs into a feeling of ordinarity, getting used to his mood slowly shifting from reserved and irritated to a one more pleasant, full of hesitant smiles and soft words when he notices you feeling down or disappointed with yourself, and a one more close to a brother-like teasing when he watches you arrive to his apartment to work on things. One would say you hit it off, your energies matching as you slowly get to know the boy, but still, there’s a hint of something inside of you that makes you grow nervous around him whenever he is too close to your figure, your body falling limp and your brain working on overdrive. You wonder if it’s the sheer fact of simply not being fully used to his presence; while Jimin says you’re down bad for the man. She’s wrong– or at least you’re convinced that she is– and that’s why you simply think the uncertain feeling of uneasiness that settles in your bones sometimes is the effect of the fact that you never truly know what to expect when you arrive at Renjun’s place.

Some days, when you arrive, there’s a mess waiting for you in the living room, where you usually work on the project with Renjun. There are pots and pans with dried food everywhere and your partner’s hands are foaming with washing liquid when he opens the door for you, and you giggle at the sight. Other days, the apartment is full of people you don’t know and Renjun has to throw them out with a scream saying that the group was supposed to leave two hours ago, and when you come on weekends, he lets you in wearing sweatpants and bed hair, as if he spent the whole day in his sheets. Dare you say, this is your favorite version of him– his eyes are half-lidded and he moves slowly, even his remarks aren’t as harsh as they tend to get. Jimin once argued and told you that you two don’t even need to meet that often for the sake of the project– and on a weekend as well– but you’d say it adds to the value of the magazine if you two can get opinions out of each other and review each other’s writing in real time. 

Some days, his roommate is home, and that’s when you join Renjun in his room so you two get a bit of privacy (not that you’re doing anything that requires privacy. His roommate Donghyuck is just very nosy and he keeps asking you questions you don’t have the time and energy to answer). 

Today is one of these days, with his energetic roommate roaming the halls of the apartment, but this time, you two don’t hide away in the comfort of Renjun’s small, yet very organized room. Sitting in the living room of his and Hyuck’s shared apartment, your bottom meeting the carpeted floor instead of the cushions of their couch, your laptop screen darkening when you don’t work on the device for some time and it puts itself to sleep mode. The reason for said action is your attention being somewhere completely else– on Donghyuck’s figure trailing in and out of the room, each time wearing a different outfit than before.

“What about this one, Y/N? Do I look good?” he asks, posing like a model that didn’t pass an audition in any modeling agency, their dream of flashing a smile on the title pages of Vogue fading out of their sight.

You burst out laughing at the weird combination. You don’t remember Donghyuck ever being bad at fashion from the few times you've met him before he left their apartment to attend a party or go to class– you’re quite certain that his habit to always tuck in his shirts into his skinny jeans, the stylistic choice showcasing his long legs making not one, but many girls, boys and others salivate over him. But when seeing him in a tragic combination of cowboy boots and a cow-print shirt, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hyuck, now you’re just taking the shit. That’s your Halloween costume from last year,” the boy next to you on the ground whines, running his hands through his hair in despair.

“Okay, but what if I really want to wear it?” he asks all innocent, his roommate now faking a cry in response, “besides, I was asking Y/N, so you shut your mouth.”

“I think it’s great,” you nod, wiping the corner of your eyes from the stray tears that fall off from the laughter you’ve been doing at the interaction. Your assignment was long forgotten the first moment Donghyuck decided to pay you a visit in the living room, starting with shitting on his professor for making him study on a weekend (which you argued that he could’ve started with earlier in the week, to which he glared at you and asked if he looks like a nerd), and then proceeding to do everything but study– starting with making a smoothie in the living room– while efficiently making so much noise with the mixer every time Renjun spoke up, annoying the short male– to giving you a make-shift fashion show.

“Do you want me to embarrass myself? See, I wore this to test if you were being genuine, but I see now that you’re on Renjun’s side,” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and escaping the living room, making you burst out laughing even more as you hear the door to his room shut with a loud thud.

He’ll come back soon– you’re sure of it.

And you’re right. After Renjun manages to let out a loud noise of despair at the fact that he has to live with someone like Lee Donghyuck– not only now, he complains about it every other day, when the latter drags him to parties only for him to be the designated driver for the night and get him home safely, or how he makes him pay for dinner he orders for the both of them without asking– the other man joins you in the living room again, now dressed casually in sweatpants and a loose shirt.

“Okay, the fashion show’s over. I think I’ll go with the first outfit, just by the way, because it matches my eyes,” he says, quite seriously, to which Renjun only sighs.

“Hyuck, your eyes are brown.”

“Okay and?”

“That what you wore was– you know what, never mind…” Renjun shakes his head as he stops himself mid-sentence, making you snicker at the mental image of the outfit Donghyuck’s talking about, because frankly, Renjun is right with his frustration. The shirt his roommate wore was blue, and while it didn’t clash in the slightest, it surely didn’t match the brown depth of Donghyuck’s orbs, and that’s what makes the whole thing that much funnier.

Turning your head around to watch Renjun’s roommate moving through the kitchen area, opening up the fridge and pouring himself a glass of milk– you don’t even dare to question him anymore– you ask. “What is the occasion anyway?”

“Jisung’s birthday party,” he mumbles, taking a sip, “you know Park Jisung, right?”

“Never heard of him,” you shake your head, seeing as the man widens his eyes at you with surprise.

“No? Well, you’re gonna get to know him soon, then,” he says, shrugging.

“That sounds like a threat,” you giggle, “what do you even mean?”

To that, Donghyuck shifts his eyes to his roommate sitting next to you on the ground, shrugging. “Well, I assumed you were invited…” he says, grinning to himself.

The man next to you audibly sighs– what is the reason behind his frustration this time, you truly do not know, but with Renjun, there’s always something getting on his nerves. He has a problem with having his anger in control sometimes.

Furrowing your eyebrows at the proposition, you shake your head. “Why would I be invited to Park Jisung’s birthday party?”

“Because it’s quite the event! Park Jisung’s turning into an adult, and to that, he’s throwing a big party, which means friends of friends of friends are invited,” he says, as if it was the most matter-of-fact information you’ve ever heard, “and since you’re a friend of a friend, I’d assume you get a pass.”

Shrugging, you mutter. “Well, I wasn’t invited,” you add, not paying the whole party much thought. 

The man squints his eyes at the two of you, eyes drifting from one figure to the other, humming to himself as if he was lost in thought. “Okay, then…” he mysteriously mumbles under his breath before downing the glass and putting it into the sink, completing his visit by exiting the living room.

“Would you come back and wash your dishes after yourself?” Renjun yells into the depths of the apartment, a sneaky remark being thrown his way almost immediately.

“No, thank you!”

And after watching the interaction, you come to the conclusion that if you were living with Lee Donghyuck, you'd turn kind of crazy too. You can’t even blame Renjun anymore. Truth be told, though, you didn’t get much work done that Saturday, and you think his sheer presence might be the reason why.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your laptop towards Renjun, the two of you currently sitting in the library, working on your project. Originally, you had planned to go to your place– but Jimin texted you last second that she has a guy over, and Renjun said his roommate has a gathering of some sort at his apartment, so you settled on the comfort and silence your university library provides. Not a lot of people are here during this time of the year; the exam season isn’t that close yet and no one’s panicking about last-minute studying, so only a few responsible students are currently scattered across the spacious room on the second floor, working on their essays. You bet they’re humanities students– they always have the most shit to do when it comes to essays. You study Journalism, but your roommate is a Sociology major, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone write as many essays as Jimin in a single semester.

What you’re showing Renjun is an opened Microsoft Publisher document, your shared magazine shining from the blue light of the screen. Renjun sent you his copy of the pages he’s done with the animal shelter interview, and as you were looking at the columns of text and off-centered pictures, the perfectionist in you woke up and forced you to fix the tiny mistakes that didn’t escape your eye.

“It’s different,” he hums, eyebrows furrowing as he examines the two-page spread, resting his head on his hand, plopped up on his elbow, and pushing his rimmed glasses further up his nose bridge. “Did you change anything?”

“I just… played around with it a little,” you mumble, afraid of what he thinks. As far as you know, he could flip out any second and scream at you for doing his work when it was perfectly fine the way he sent it to you– at least the Huang Renjun you met a few weeks ago would certainly do that– and so you don’t think it’s that unexpected of you to be so nervous about his opinion.

“This picture wasn’t here before,” he says, pointing to one of the pictures you neatly slotted into the corner of the page– it was one of your favorites, you must admit with severe embarrassment– with Renjun holding up a baby kitten, looking at it with softened eyes. When you looked at the page spread he sent you the other day, you couldn’t believe he didn’t add that picture. Something about it being your favorite– finding yourself admiring it when you look through the pictures on your camera’s SD card– was enough to make you think it’s surely his favorite as well. It didn’t matter that it didn’t really fit the professional aura the whole spread radiates. For you, the magazine wasn’t complete without including it– think of that what you will.

“It was asymmetrical without it, so I had to add it…” you say, scratching the back of your neck. That’s a partial lie– you could make it work if you moved the pictures around a little bit, but Renjun doesn’t have to know that.

He hums, eyes scanning over the text, shrugging. “It’s nice. As long as you didn’t change the text part, I don’t mind,” he says, relief making your shoulders slouch down, not even noticing how tense you’ve become, “I actually got bored while working on this, so I get that it didn’t really look nice before. Thanks,” he completes, offering you a soft smile as he takes a sip of the black americano sitting on the desk.

“Good,” you nod, shaking off the nervousness from before, “okay.”

Scrolling through the document, moving a few things around, adding better punctuation here and there, the number of pages is still not hitting the criteria for your final grade. That’s okay– you still have a lot of time to complete the magazine and you still have plenty of ideas. To execute them is another thing, but you’re sure you’ll find a way.

“What about your interview?” Renjun suddenly asks, almost making you jump up from the surprise that is created by his voice suddenly cutting through the silence of the library.

“What about it?” you hum, looking at him. His hair is a little tousled– he’s been putting in way less work than you today, laying on the table occasionally when you don’t show him anything on your laptop for a while, acting more as your company than a help. It looks like the coffee on his table is the only thing keeping him awake, and you suddenly feel a little bad for insisting on working on the project even though your initial plans of doing it at your place fell through, because he seems to be exhausted.

“Well, I did the shelter, so you should do something too,” he says, shrugging, “or do something similar, you know… I think it would be nice to have you write about something from a reporter's perspective.”

“Oh,” you nod, “well, I dunno… I had a few ideas, but it’s…”

“Hm?” he motions for you to talk when your voice drifts out, eyes looking at you with patience and genuine interest. The change of demeanor that’s been happening with him lately slightly shocks you, but you welcome the new character in him with open arms. Still, it doesn’t mean you don’t get a little hesitant around him whenever he shows you this side of him– you don’t really know how to react, or what to expect of him anymore. It’s like walking on eggshells, but you can’t say you hate the strange anticipation.

“Well, it’s stupid, but…” you start, seeing him roll his eyes at the beginning of your proposition, “my favorite writer is doing some sort of a fan sign slash q&a thing in the local library next week. She’s coming out with a new book, and I think it would be nice to get an interview with her, but she’s probably very busy and everything, so that won’t work out.”

Looking at Renjun, feeling shy of the sudden revelation of hopes and dreams, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. The range of answers he could give you is truly big– he could laugh at you, tell you to go alone, or he could tell you that it’s a stupid idea, a boring one, even, or he could be supportive– the least likely response, you think. Sharing your idea with him makes you a little hesitant again, feeling a little naked in front of him, and you even avert your gaze towards your laptop and aimlessly scroll through the document to avoid his gaze, to seem more nonchalant and not at all bothered by his lack of words, when he gives you a tired hum.

“Well, you could at least do an article about the library, then. To advertise sustainability, and all… And kids these days don’t read much, so I think it’s nice to talk about it,” he says, once again folding over the table and burrowing his face in the space between his folded arms and his chest, half sitting, half laying down on the furniture, “wanna go next week? Maybe we can catch that writer of yours.”

Allowing yourself to look at him, relief once again washing over you at the acceptance, you can’t help but smile at his slurred words of affirmation. “I mean, I’m down…”

Doubting you could get the interview– not even trying to reach out to the writer, already setting yourself up for the expected failure– you make plans to visit the library the said day with Renjun anyway. You’ll get your camera and maybe get some nice shots, maybe ask around for an interview from one of the nice, old librarians instead. It’s not a bad idea, and it fits the vibe of your magazine quite nicely.

Who knows, maybe you could even get your book signed. Doesn’t hurt to try.

You think it was safe to say that you didn’t expect to see a text message pop up on the screen of your phone one afternoon, the black letters shining darkly on the bright screen with a hesitant, yet a little hurried invitation to Park Jisung’s birthday party. The whole interaction you had about it with Renjun and Hyuck was awkward, and so to see getting an invitation for yourself the day of the said event was a shocking concept, leaving you scrambling your things from various places of your apartment and putting them into a handbag before getting dressed for the occasion. 

Quickly learning that Lee Donghyuck is a man of his word– meaning that he never lies, especially when it comes to big parties– your mouth hangs open when you arrive to the address Renjun texted you in the afternoon, the big mension-like building full of people you’ve never seen before, leaving you to acknowledge that friends of friends of friends must have been invited to fill up the whole place, since it’s not possible for poor Park Jisung to know everyone at his birthday party. The fact makes you feel less special; the invitation not really making you feel like you were wanted there, the place breaking in its seams making you internalize a thought that you were there just to fill up the blank spaces and Renjun invited you only for the sheer fact of needing a lot of people for his friend’s party. A little disappointed, yet, still kind of amazed at the size of it all, you walk out of Jimin’s car– she offered to drive you there– and hesitantly set your foot to the  grass that divides the land from the sidewalk. 

Feeling a little lost, turning your head in various directions to try to find anyone you’d know– Huang Renjun being the best alternative, since he was the one who invited you, after all– you start to feel a little out of place when no one pays you any attention and the loud music filling your ears only acts as a distraction that slowly makes you oversaturated with stimulus. Just when you go to take your phone out of your bag to call either Renjun or your roommate to come back to pick you up and drive you to the safety of your apartment, a hand lands on your shoulder and makes you turn around in your tracks, a strange sense of comfort enveloping your insides when you see the short blonde peeking at you from under his carelessly styled bangs, a grin sitting on his face. “You’re here!”

“Yeah. I told you I’d come…?” you mumble, observing Renjun’s sudden enthusiasm at your arrival, letting the man drag you inside of the building. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all the eyes of the guests on you. While you were a stranger to all of them, you are almost certain the popular Huang Renjun was one of the more known people of the bunch, catching attention of multiple friends of his and also friends of their friends, and suddenly, the feeling of his touch on your wrist as he drags you inside makes your skin burn, your brain almost overheating when you realize this might as well be the first time you’ve had any sort of physical contact with the male. Fixing your gaze on his back, enveloped in an oversized leather jacket, you start to wonder if he’s drunk.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, finally turning back to you when you arrive in the spacious kitchen. You wonder if this house is rented, or if Park Jisung’s one of the wealthy kids in the town. You truly have no knowledge on the man, and when you hesitantly look around the room, trying to sort out what alcohol they have in store– while mentally thinking of what would make you the least hammered, considering your low alcohol tolerance– you feel Renjun’s eyes glued to you, heat inevitably rising to your cheeks. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks, making you jump out of your haze.

“Oh,” you stutter, “I brought a birthday gift for Jisung,” you mumble, seeing Renjun’s glossy eyes blink at you a few times, his lips suddenly twitching up in amusement. In this moment, you think he truly must be drunk, his fingers reaching towards the gift bag in your left hand as he peeks inside, noticing the handwritten card and a box of chocolates you brought to the boy you’ve never seen before. Your project partner cracks up as he puts the bag away to the corner of the room.

“You’re too sweet for this world,” Renjun giggles as he looks back at you, making you widen your eyes in surprise at the affectionate words falling off his tongue.

“Why?”

“Nobody actually expected you to bring a gift, you know,” he says as he walks through the half-empty kitchen, eyes roaming over the solo cups filled with alcohol, “you don’t even know him. Half the people here don’t know him and I’m pretty sure half of his actual friend group didn’t give him anything.”

“Oh,” you blink, suddenly feeling stupid. “Well, I didn’t want to seem rude…” you sheepishly mumble, scratching the back of your neck in hesitance. Maybe you did go a little overboard– nobody can really blame you, though. You’re not a big party goer, and since it’s someone’s birthday, you only assumed it’s socially expected of you to bring a gift. And it’s Renjun’s friend, on top of that– one would say you wanted to give off a good impression, as his plus-one to the party, whatever that means. If you were considered that, to be exact– with the amount of people here, though, you were starting to feel a little lost in the situation.

“See, you’re too sweet,” he says, shrugging,  eyes still fixated on the kitchen counter as he seemingly searches for a specific drink. Arm motioning towards one of the red solo cups, he suddenly turns to you and offers you the contents, smiling. “He loves chocolate, though, so that gift’s gonna be his favorite. Well, if it even gets to him in this whole mess… rum and coke?” he asks, and without much thought, you eagerly take the cup from his hand, nodding.

“Thanks,” you say, tasting the alcohol on your tongue. You don’t tell him that rum and coke is your biggest enemy– not because it tastes bad, quite the opposite, actually. You enjoy the mixture too much for you to control yourself sometimes. You can only pray that you don’t get too loose tonight.

The man’s eyes stay strangely glued to your figure as you sip from the cup, and you almost open your mouth to tease him about it– or ask if there’s something on your face, either or– when there’s a chant coming out of one of the rooms outside, incoherent screams slowly forming into one recognisable word– a name, to be exact– the voices calling Park Jisung, tonight’s birthday boy. Renjun’s eyes widen at that, his body moving fast as he tugs you by your hand again, almost spilling your drink in the process, your figure suddenly standing in a living room seemingly bigger than your whole apartment, the sight in front of you making you laugh.

A tall, lanky boy is thrown up in the air by the arms of multiple men– one of which you recognise to be Hyuck– as the whole room chants Jisung's name, the sight  a little comedic in your eyes. Rose tint settles on Park Jisung's face as the whistling only gets louder, a few phones with the flash turned on pointed to his face, the moment captured in time. You wonder what the boy did in his life to get this amount of popularity, but you can only imagine that, as one would say, this could very well be a core memory for him. You only turn adult once in your life, and for some reason, the thought of Park Jisung doing so surrounded by his friends that threw him perhaps the biggest birthday party in the history of your university campus, you get a little emotional for him. Maybe Renjun was right with you being too sweet for this world– in this moment, though, you think you’re too soft instead.

After a while, the men get tired of holding up his weight and the boy slowly comes down from the high, the hollering getting more quiet as it turns into the birthday song, making you join in with the singing. The thought of being an outcast, just a random person in the crowd slowly seeps away when you feel included in the moment, worry leaving you as you watch Donghyuck– the biggest hype man of his friends, or so it seems– shake the birthday boy vigorously by his shoulders before he lets go and plants a sloppy kiss to his cheek, which leads to the two of them chasing each other around the crowded place.

Watching the whole scene unfold right in front of your eyes, you find yourself gazing at Renjun from the corner of your eye, the bright grin on his face making your heart squeeze in a weird way. He seems so happy in this moment, dragging you from room to room excitedly as if he was a regular in this place, the joy of celebrating his friend making his flushed face glow in a healthy way. You got used to seeing his face clouded in a shadow; the worried crease in between his eyebrows and the darkness under his eyes regular visitors in his expression, so to see him seep in the ugly orange lights of the luxurious house tugs at your heartstrings in a way you choose to not recognize or name. 

“Y/N!” you hear your name screamed from somewhere in the room, making you tear your eyes away from the man standing by your side. Looking at the source of the yell, you find Lee Donghyuck striding towards you with his long legs, the action almost threatening, yet, his face beams in an excited aura.

“Hyuck!”

“You came!” he yells back in the same energy as last time, although his body is now only a few steps away from you, making you giggle. You recognise his outfit to be one of the multiple he showed you back at their apartment before he started acting all silly, the memory making you laugh in fondness.

“I did!” you nod, “I got invited,” you say, voice almost sounding proud of the achievement. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says as his eyes drift from you to Renjun, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively before he earns himself a punch to the shoulder from his roommate, a sharp, over-exaggerated scowl escaping his lips at the motion. “Come meet Jisung!” he quickly switches up the topic, dragging you along with himself like a rag doll in an instance. He must be drunk; you think. 

You wonder why you keep being dragged around the house– maybe it’s a sign that you’re too weak and should probably start working out more so you can stand your ground. Nonetheless, you follow the man as you look around, as if to apologize to Renjun for leaving him, when you see the blonde following you to the small group in the corner of the living room, recognising them to be the ones holding up Jisung just a few minutes prior. 

“Jisung! This is Y/N!” Donghyuck utters out as soon as you get to the small gathering, all eyes suddenly glued to you. You wouldn’t say it made you feel comfortable or even invited– quite the opposite, to be honest– but the man that was addressed cutely turns to you, a shy smile plastered on his face when he greets you.

“Ah! Hello!”

You doubt Park Jisung even knows who you are. You doubt any of these people do– with how they’re looking at you in examination, but you still bite through it as you force a smile on your face. “Happy birthday,” you say to him, earning yourself a bright smile from the recipient.

“Thanks!” he beams. “You’re Renjun hyung’s friend, right?” he asks  in response, almost making you choke on your spit in surprise at the fact that the boy knows who you are, which leads you to believe that you were talked about in this circle before.

“Sort of,” you nod, forcing out a giggle.

“Sort of?” the annoyed voice of Huang Renjun himself fills your ears from your right, making you jump up at the proximity of him that you weren’t aware of before, the mock offense on his face making you giggle when you think of the remorse he treated you with when you first met. He looked like he never wanted to speak to you in his life, and now he’s acting offended at you not fully calling him your friend? Yes, you did that to spite him– because if you weren’t friends, you truly don’t know what you were even doing here in the first place– but you still think the whole thing is a little ironic. “You’re at our house at least once a week and we’re not friends in your eyes?” 

“Well, that’s only because I have to,” you argue, when the man only shakes his head at you in disbelief.

“Okay, you’re not allowed to eat our snacks when you come over anymore,” he says, shrugging in nonchalance. Laughing, you find yourself looking over the group you’re standing with, the discomfort slowly fading away when you engage in conversation with Renjun. You catch a few names you can’t really place to their respective faces– mainly because Jisung was the only one formally introduced to you– when you notice a girl staring at you in examination, her figure not noticed by you before. 

The longer you stare at her, the longer you start to recognise her, and before you let panic overtake you– in all honesty, you don’t even know why you’d panic at this fact– you realize it’s none other than Huh Yunjin, your friend’s ‘cheating ex-girlfriend’ looking at you with something resembling spite in her eyes, her jaw clenched and her look glazing from your outfit to your face, as if mentally scoring you on your attractiveness, judging every detail of your body, all while a tall boy hugs her to his side– whom you presume is her new boyfriend.

He looks nothing like Renjun– he is quite the opposite, if you really think about it– and even though you tear your eyes away from her figure, your brain still screams at you with arguments that you look nothing like her; even though it shouldn’t really matter. You’re not Huang Renjun’s new girlfriend– not even the object of his desire, or the new girl by his side– you’re just his project partner, a classmate he’s grown to calling a friend, but still, you can’t help but notice her radiating beauty, the outshining features on her face and the charismatic aura she radiates– the polar opposite to everything you’d describe yourself as; and the comfort you felt while talking with Renjun’s friends is suddenly swept under the carpet, long forgotten when you still feel her eyes burning through your skull, her gaze making you like an intruder, someone who’s not supposed to be here, someone who doesn’t belong. 

And to make things even worse, you suddenly feel Renjun’s hand around your waist, and when your eyes lock with his you swear you see a hint of understatement in them, something that lets you know that he’s aware of his ex girlfriend’s burning stare; his protective side kicking in, yet still making you question the matter even more.

You bet he did it to soothe you. You can even clearly read his intentions in the warm smile he sends you when he squeezes your side, hugging you closer to himself, but the more you’re aware of his burning palm on your flesh, the more uncertain you become, the less engaged in the conversation you get, and the more uncomfortable you feel under the orange lights of the living room.

“Wanna go outside? I’m pretty sure they have a karaoke machine there, if you wanna play,” you feel Renjun whisper into your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, the hint of vodka in it supporting your earlier claims and that he was at least a little tipsy after all. 

Nonetheless, you nod and find him leading you outside, not before you turn around to look at Yunjin for one last time, though, seeing clear jealousy shading her expression; making you wonder if you were invited just because she was too, and if you just fulfilled your designated role for the night.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, looking at your companion as the two of you sit on the stairs outside of the university building, your bags carelessly placed at your feet. It’s getting quite dark out, the winter days still being insanely short even though it’s the middle of February and spring is slowly approaching the town. The two of you had worked on your assignment in the library before Renjun told you that he has to wait for his friends Jeno and Donghyuck to pick him up, since they are meeting up with their friends from high school, their friend group living out of town requiring the two of them to take a drive there.

“Of course not,” Renjun shakes his head, “I offered to drop you off, so why would I mind?” 

“What about your friends–”

“If they have anything against it, I’ll make sure to choke them, so don’t worry about that,” Renjun softly laughs at his own joke, trying to ease you. Still, there’s something inside of you that makes the atmosphere heavy and thick, having you crack your knuckles as you sit in silence, chewing on your bottom lip from nerves.

“What’s up? You’ve been acting weird lately,” Renjun hums, looking at you from his place on your left. 

You tried hard to mask your hesitance, especially because you think the worries inside of you are stupid, but you can’t help but feel a hint of discomfort whenever you think of Jisung’s birthday party. Sure, you had a great time– his friends were nice to you, Hyuck even dramatically sang a song at the karaoke with you when Renjun got tired, the two of you taking shots together when you were done. You danced with Renjun after, the music keeping you close, and when you got tired, he walked you home. Everything felt normal between you– except from the weird closeness and occasional touches he sent your way– but you presume that was the effect of alcohol, so you didn’t ponder on it that much.

The eyes of his ex girlfriend on you the whole evening is what made you feel a bit itsy about the situation, and even though there was no hint that would further prove your previous claims, you can’t help but think about Huh Yunjin from time to time, and that’s what makes you feel at least a bit awkward about the whole thing.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say, trying to play it off.

“Come on,” Renjun sighs, “tell me. Is it something I did?”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his insisting. The shift in dynamic is ironical, to say the least– 4 months ago, he wouldn’t care about what was making you feel so down, he wouldn’t even care about you walking home from university alone in the darkness of the evening hours, but now, the crease between his brows almost makes him look worried about you, and you can’t say you hate it– even though in this moment, you’d rather have him not care at all.

“Okay, so I’ll just play a guessing game, then,” he scoffs, humming, lost in thought. “You’ve been weird since the party. Something happened there?” 

“No,” you disagree, tone of voice almost sounding desperate and harrowing, not really wanting him to keep asking about the reasoning behind your mood.

“Okay, so that’s a yes. Did someone make you feel uncomfortable? Do I need to beat somebody up? Oh god, was it Hyuck? That fucker said something to you, right? I’m gonna lock him out of the apartment, I swear to god–”

“It wasn’t Hyuck,” you giggle at his outrage, deciding to save his roommate’s life.

“It wasn’t?” he asks, seemingly genuinely surprised, expecting his devilish roommate to be the reason behind all the bad things in the world. “Okay, so it must have been me, no? What did I do?” 

Sighing and shaking your head in disbelief at his insistence, you grunt. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jun, can you just stop asking?” you say, the nickname rolling of your tongue automatically, without much thinking. 

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. It does nothing to help you relax or feel better about the situation, but at least you think Renjun finally dropped the topic and won’t ask you about it again. You’d rather have the ground swallow you whole than to admit what’s been bugging you, especially when it’s Renjun himself you’re talking to about the matter.

You were, once again, wrong in your assumptions. Renjun did not drop the topic– no, he just took his sweet time to hit the nail on the head.

“Was it because of Yunjin?” 

The question opens a pit in your stomach, the embarrassment creeping out of your body and making you heat up not helping your case. Hands clammy as you shake your head and gesture, trying to prove your disagreement with the question to the best of your abilities– but only making yourself look stupid and like you’re trying too hard– your words come out weirdly high-pitched, only further proving Renjun’s point.

“No, it– it’s not that, I– I–”

Renjun scoffs at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Did she– did she make you feel uncomfortable? I know she’s been staring a lot the whole evening, I’m sorry about that…”

His words do a little to comfort you. You wouldn’t say you were perfectly fine with the fact that he knows that it was his ex girlfriend that’s been on your mind the past few days– because you two aren’t dating, and realistically, this shouldn’t matter to you– but his understanding eyes bearing into yours make you calm down a little when you sigh and avert your gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek before you speak back up again.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I– It was expected, I guess?”

Renjun hums, eyes focusing somewhere into the unknown. Picking at the skin on your cuticles, you think the conversation is over and you’ve done a good job at playing it off, half of your worries now soothed, but Renjun is a man full of surprises, it seems, when he looks at you again, licking his lips in hesitance.

“But that’s not all, is it?” he asks, but he gets no answer from you. It doesn’t matter– your silence is enough of a conformation. “Look, I didn’t… I didn’t invite you to make her jealous, or anything, if that’s what’s running through that brain of yours, okay? I didn’t even know she would be there.”

Blinking a few times at him, not expecting him to read you so well, you let out the breath you didn’t even know you’ve been holding, nodding at his reassuring words. “Oh…”

“I invited you because I thought you’d have fun… and because I kind of wanted you there. And so did Hyuck, actually, he thinks you’re his platonic soulmate, or something–” the man rambles, explaining his intentions to you, the frantic words coming out of his mouth making you giggle. Relief washes over his face at that, noticing the ease in the atmosphere, his hand gently squeezing your knee when your laughs get quiet. “Everything’s good now?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “thanks. It was silly, but– you know,” you shrug, awkwardly grinning to yourself.

“Yeah,” he sighs out, looking back in front of him, the moment of silent sincerity between the two of you having him open up to you, “it wasn’t like that. me and her… it wasn’t quite the same for a while, you know? Like, I knew it was over before it really happened, but nonetheless, I didn’t expect her to… to do what she did to end it.”

You hum, not really knowing what words you could offer him to console him. Not really wanting to ask any more questions, you wait for him to talk by himself, to assure you’re not insensitive or prying too much. You’ll let him tell you how much he wants, and you’ll silently thank him for the trust he has in you when holding up his feelings to you on a silver platter, naked and vulnerable for you to see and examine. 

“It’s like… I wanted to end it, but not with her cheating on me. That– that hurt more than the actual break up, I think. And maybe it shouldn’t matter, because I wasn’t in love with her anymore anyway, but it still… left a scar, I think,” he hums, and by the way he plays with his fingers in his lap, you can tell he didn’t expect himself to open up to you like this– maybe this is the first time he’s even sharing this with anyone, and the urge to protect him and his heart is suddenly stronger than ever before, even though it’s been somewhere there, deep inside of you, all along.

“That’s valid,” you say, “nobody deserves that to happen to them, no matter how your relationship looked at the time. You were still together, and she shouldn’t have done that,” you mumble, hoping to provide comfort to him, but also hoping your words aren’t unwelcome at this very moment.

The blonde looks at you, an appreciative smile appearing on his face. “Thanks,” he says. There’s nothing to thank you for, you think, but perhaps those are the words he needed to hear for a while now. Perhaps your sentences just mended something in him, perhaps you were the voice that finally made him admit that what he’s been feeling about the situation wasn’t stupid or irrational.

In a moment of weakness, a selfish masochism, even, you let out a prying sentence slip out of your lips– a sentence that could hurt you, have you not been prepared for the outcome. And maybe you were going too far, maybe you should’ve stayed quiet, but you can’t turn back time and the words were already spoken. “Do you ever miss her?” 

Renjun thinks for a while– a heartbeat of a second that makes you feel like you’re falling into a deep abyss– before he shakes his head. “Not really. Not her, I don’t miss her. I think that sometimes, I just miss what we had, but… that’s long gone.”

Humming indifferently, you accept his response in a quiet solace. 

You don’t know where this conversation brings you, but you bet it’s a step in some direction.

After a while, with Renjun’s head soundly resting on your shoulder when the silence gets too long, yet a comforting aura still shades the two of you sitting at the stairs, there’s a black Ford Fiesta honking at the parking lot, the two of you jumping to your feet. The boy drags you to the backseat, your bags hitting the floor of the vehicle, as Jeno looks back at you from the front, smiling at you with moon crescents in his eyes.

“Hello!”

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“Is Y/N tagging along?” Hyuck gasps from the passenger’s seat, turning towards you two, a face of a pleasant surprise written all over his face. You know what, maybe Renjun was right and you and his roommate are platonic soulmates of some sort. Or at least that’s how Lee Donghyuck’s been acting ever since the day he met you.

“I’m not,” you giggle, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Jeno, can you drop Y/N off at her apartment?” Renjun hums, and suddenly, the previous worries leave you as soon as the tall man nods and tells you to navigate him to your place. There was no reason why you’d be rejected by Renjun’s friends– for more reasons than one, you just aren’t aware of them yet.

The ride to your apartment is filled with laughter. Squinting at your project partner sitting next to you at the back of the car, you notice that he’s glowing brightly in the reflections of the lampposts shining through the windows of the car, a stolen galaxy swirling in his eyes when your eyes meet when you pay your goodbyes to the guys while getting off at your driveway a few minutes later.

And it’s quite funny. You don’t even live that far.

–

Clapping when your favorite writer completes the little interactive Q&A at the local library on a Monday afternoon– all throughout you didn’t have any courage to ask any questions yourself, even though you had plenty– you stand up from your place at one of the little, lanky folding chairs in the back of the room and smooth your hands over the skirt of your dress, getting the creases out. You’ve learned a lot about the author today– all from how she started writing, what inspired her to write your most favorite novel, and where she finds her inspiration for writing. You have a lot of information, yet, you still bet you could master more questions, if you were to do an interview with her– you wouldn’t even have to try as hard. 

Reading is one of your passions, it’s something that brought you to the love you have for writing, and although you didn’t stick with fiction for long, finding that the world building and creating plot and characters got boring for you after a while, you found your love for writing shining through when you type articles; making sure your headlines are captivating, that your articles are well-structured and bring something new to the table. It’s a completely different branch– some would say a less creative one– but it’s undeniable that the love for it started in you when you first started reading books, when you were little, in the quiet and comfort of your room.

Glancing back at Renjun, the boy follows you like a lost puppy (you bet it’s his first time at the library, despite him owning quite a few books himself– you noticed so while examining his room one time and found classics in his bookshelf), he offers you a soft smile, nudging you to keep walking. There’s a line forming towards the head of the room, where the writer is still sitting, numbers of passionate readers and fans of her work waiting to get their books signed. There’s a little stand in the middle of the far right wall, containing numerous books written by the person currently sitting in the same room, breathing the same air as you two, and you don’t hesitate to buy the latest one, the one you haven’t had the chance to read yet, with the intention of getting it signed.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Renjun asks, standing close to you and pointing towards the stacks of books on the stand.

“That one,” you hum, bringing his attention to the paperback cover at the very corner of the stand, watching as the man takes it into his hands and flips it over, reading through the summary. He looks like one of those Pinterest boards you’d title ‘Dark academia’ with a series of emojis that fit the ‘aesthetic’, with his plaid coat layered on top of a knitted, light brown sweater, the blonde fringe slightly falling into his eyes. 

“I’ll get this one, then,” he looks at one of the ladies behind the stand, smiling at her as he gets his wallet out.

“Don’t you want the latest one?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, smiling at the lady once again when the book is back in his hold, paid for and now in his ownership. His eyes are back at you when he offers you the explanation. “You said you liked this one, so I wanna try it. And you don’t know if the latest one is any good, so at least I’ve heard a good review on this one and don’t have to be afraid of buying a shitty book,” he snickers, making you roll your eyes at the tone of his voice, but still, there’s a little man in your brain screaming at the top of his lungs– screeching, even– at the action, the gears in your brain turning faster and faster as you let yourself indulge and overthink his words. He bought it because it’s your favorite– so he said– and in a split second of delusion, it doesn’t matter to you if it was just because he wanted to be sure the book is good, or if it was just him wanting to read your favorite book as a way of learning more about you.

“As if any of her books could be bad,” you mumble, moving slowly through the line. You’re the last ones waiting for the autograph, and while there’s still a lot of people in front of you, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the promise of an interaction with the author.

“Well, you can never really know. Everyone has bad days.”

Snickering at his argument, you shake your head in disbelief and move a few steps forward again. You’ve taken a few photographs of the library while you were sitting and listening to the talk; a few of the author– to capture the nice memory– and some of the interior as well, showcasing the numerous shelves filled with books of different genres that the library provides. Still, you take the camera into your hands again, taking a few more– you were sure to get permission from the smiley and welcoming librarians when you arrived– trying to capture the atmosphere and the heartwarming aura of it all. A little selfishly, for your own memory, you turn to your companion and point the lens towards him, seeing as he poses with the book, acting a little silly when you take the picture, and when he breaks into an amused grin after, you take another one– a moment captured in time, his toothy laugh on full display. When you look at the picture again, your heart warms up a little at the image. Maybe you could get it printed out and add it to your memory book alongside the pictures you have from your first university parties and moving into the new apartment with Jimin– just so you have something to look back to.

Soon enough, you reach the front of the room, your bodies only a few steps away from the author. When the last guests in front of you leave, paying their goodbyes, you take a step forward with a little sigh, trying to encourage yourself and also calm down the erratic beating of your heart, ready to face the idol you’ve been looking up to since you were 11. With Renjun on your side, you put on your most picture-worthy smile, clammy hands offering the book to the writer when you reach the long table, choking on your words.

“Hello,” you greet, not really knowing what to say. You would be lying if you said you didn’t rehearse this in your brain seventy different times ever since you talked with Renjun about going to the library last week, trying to make up the perfect scenario and find the best words to use when you finally meet her, but in this very moment, the whole script flies through the window and you’re left silent and hesitant, heat rising to your cheeks when you can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Hello,” you hear Renjun greet shortly after you, bumping into you a little with his hip when he stumbles to the table, seemingly more calm than you, trying to save the day, “my name’s Huang Renjun,” he says, and you want to kick him in his shin– because who even does that? Who tells their full name to a stranger, an author he’s never heard of before actually attending this meet and greet, acting as if he was an old friend of hers, meeting the famous writer after a long time? You almost thought he’d save you from the embarrassment and lead the way, from the way he approached her, but after hearing those words come out of his mouth, you almost go to scold him for his behavior.

To your surprise, though, the writer’s eyes widen in what seems to be realization, nodding to herself. “So you must be Y/N!” she says, looking back at you, a welcoming smile appearing on her lips. 

“I- I-” you stutter, suddenly feeling really confused. Is this a dream? Are you asleep? Or is your favorite writer suddenly a psychic too? What are you missing?

“Yeah! She’s just a little nervous right now,” he grins, taking a short look at you before he turns back to the author, “so… I take it as you haven’t changed your mind about the interview?”

“Not at all! I’m actually really happy to hear that students are taking interest in my writing and that they want to interview me,” she says, quickly signing your books on the front pages, offering them back to you, “I usually don’t give interviews just to anyone– you know, it would get a little too busy if I did that– but your passion really caught my attention.It reminds me of myself when I was your age… Just give me a few seconds, I have a phone call to make right now, but after I’m done, I’m all yours!” 

“Of course!” Renjun nods, watching as the author stands up from the table and disappears in one of the back rooms, seemingly to take care of the call. Turning back to you, still finding you dumbfounded from the interaction, he can’t help but let out an amused laugh. “Are you okay over there?”

“I- What-” you stutter, shaking your head as if to make your brain reboot, dragging your hand through your hair to get it out of your face, “how did you even manage to- she doesn’t even-” you fail to create coherent sentences, shock and surprise overshadowing your otherwise good choice of vocabulary, confusion spreading over your face like a shadow.

“I have my ways,” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if this was the easiest thing to accomplish, once again breaking into a grin when he sees your stoic face, “maybe try to smile a little? She might think you’re terrified of her if you keep frowning like that.”

“I am,” you mumble, still not quite comprehending the situation.

Rolling his eyes at you, he snickers. “Come on,” he says, “I bet you have plenty of questions for her up in that brain of yours,” he points to the middle of your forehead, shaking his head at your frozen figure.

“I do, but-” you mumble, catching yourself mid-sentence, “how did you even-” the words stream out your mouth, a puzzled expression not leaving your face.

“You can thank me later. Now focus on your job,” he says, turning you by your shoulders and pushing you a little towards the author that has now emerged out of the back room, a welcoming glint in her eye when her eyes land at the two aspiring journalists.

On that Monday afternoon, with sweaty palms and tongue-tied as you stutter out the curious questions, making an interview for your imaginary magazine, you learn that contrary to the popular demand, Huang Renjun is quite full of surprises. 

The longer you know Renjun, the more you hang out without the purpose of working on your assignment together. Truth be told, you started working on it pretty early into the semester, and while others were now aimlessly pulling all nighters to complete the magazine, you and Renjun were pretty much done with it already by now, since you forced the man to start working on it as soon as it was possible. He didn’t say it out loud, but you can tell he was thankful for that– it would kill the both of you if you had to focus on the project now, when exam season is slowly, but surely in reach and you’ll have to start studying soon.

It was a little awkward at first– you still remember the first time you watched Netflix with him in the silence of his apartment, with his mood very apparently below zero– starting with the two of you taking breaks in between working on your assignment, talking about the latest episodes of the anime you two have, coincidentally, chosen to watch at the same time; later progressing into full on sessions of gossip with his roommate Donghyuck joining the two of you at the comfortable couch. You’d say your friendship started a little this way, with you and Renjun running to the convenience store when you ran out of snacks in the middle of your study sessions and the two of you randomly laughing at something in your Journalism class, earning yourself scolding looks from the professor. It was unexpected, but you grew familiar with the antics, flowing through the days together, filling the boring days with texts full of TikTok links and Donghyuck sending you random pictures of your project partner all zoomed in on Snapchat. You even invited Renjun over a few times, Jimin accepting the new man in the comfort of your home when she realized he’s not as bad as he used to be before, as you ate up all of your snacks this time around instead, having impromptu karaoke sessions in your room, trying to quiz each other on the lyrics of your top tracks of the last year on Spotify. 

Everything felt casual, growing more in tune with the man he was, learning his antics and all about his character. You quickly learned that when he’s feeling down, he gets a little snappy– a bad habit you made him recognise and try to eliminate, at least when you’re around. You found out that when he’s nervous, he bites his nails, and you choose to slap his palms from the proximity of his lips whenever you catch him in the act. When he’s annoyed– much like when you prevent him from the action of gnawing at his fingernails until the skin around them  bleeds– he rolls his eyes and sighs, sometimes even shakes his head at you in disapproval. He looks adorable while doing so, but to save both of you the embarrassment, you’d never tell him out loud.

And you’d even dare to say he learns about you too. He’s an observing individual, and you’d even argue that he cares about you at least a little. For one, he’s not rude towards you anymore, the way he was when you two first started talking, and also, he shows his affection towards you in the most Renjun ways possible. He’d argue that he’s not good with words, but he’s always there to affirm you with them in his true love language whenever you’re stressed or overwhelmed with responsibilities. He also remembers your favorite drinks and snacks, opting to save them for you whenever you come by his place, and even slipping some into your bag before you leave his apartment. He’s a caring individual, a big hearted man, delicate in all directions.

You believe it’s impossible not to fall for him at least a little. Not when you really know him– the way you do, from up close, in his most joyful moments and the ones where he tries to battle you away when the ghosts in his brain try to make him shelter himself away from everyone too.

But you wouldn’t tell him that. Never in a thousand years.

“I hate all this fucking snow,” you tell him instead, when you walk by his side with your groceries in hand, the tips of your fingers brittled from the cold. “Why is it even snowing in the first place, it’s the end of February, for fuck’s sake!” 

The two of you decided to go for a grocery run together, and while some would say it’s not a fun activity to do, you think you like experiencing mundane things with your close ones the most. If you enjoy someone’s company, you truly do not care what you do together– you always go pick up packages from the post with Jimin, or drive your little sibling to the store when you’re back home, even though the action itself doesn’t provide you any conventionally ‘fun’ experiences, most of these are a fond memory in your brain, because you got to spend time with someone you love. It’s the same right now– even though it’s snowing heavily and you can’t feel your feet from the cold– you went to buy groceries with Renjun when he texted you about it, realizing you could buy some things you ran out of as well, opting to walk there together.

“I thought you liked winter?” he snickers, seeing your grumpy expression. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you hated summer,” he says, matter of factly, making you giggle to mask the warmth spreading on your insides from the knowledge that he remembers the random fact you once told him when you were working on your project together.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like winter either,” you say, shrugging.

“Do you even like anything?”

“No,” you shake your head, totally serious before you burst into laughter, “kidding. I like spring,” you smile at him, eloquently, shuffling your legs along the snowed-in ground, moving closer to the campus, near to where you both live.

“I like spring too, actually.”

“Because your birthday’s in spring?” you snicker, teasing him.

“Maybe,” he admits, laughing with you. “No, but I think spring’s neat for a number of reasons. It always feels… like a new beginning, perhaps? After months of silence, you can finally hear the chirping of birds in the morning, and the sun sets later too, so the days feel longer…” he says, and you find yourself observing him, admiring the love he has for the season.

“Exactly,” you nod, pointing your gaze towards the ground when you notice that he caught you staring, embarrassment creeping up your back before you shudder from the cold, heavy snowflakes falling on top of your head, drenching your freshly washed locks and making your cheeks burn with cold. You can’t remember the last time it snowed so hard– you were in for a couple of warm winters for the last couple of years– and as much as you hate to admit it because of your noticeable aversion towards winter, you must say it looks quite magical.

“Look, I know you hate winter, but you do have windows in your flat, right?” he jokes, making you roll your eyes at the nagging you know you’re about to hear. “Maybe look out of them before you go out, so you could dress for the weather the next time.”

“Very funny,” you snicker, “I’ll let you know, it wasn’t snowing when I was getting ready.”

“Okay then, maybe start using the weather app. It’s great if you want to know how cold it really is outside, and you’re quite good with technology, so maybe you could-”

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, but feel yourself grinning at the teasing.

The man lets out a sigh– a habit of frustration he does a lot whenever you’re around– before you feel him tugging something onto the top of your head, your ears suddenly shielded by soft fabric. Looking up at your companion in shock, you notice that the beanie that had been sitting on his head until now is covering yours instead; and although you appreciate the gesture with a giddy clench on your insides, you find yourself protesting.

“Jun! You’ll get cold,” you pout.

“Okay, but so will you, and as far as I’m concerned, I have more layers on than you right now, so you need it more than me,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, making you hesitantly smile at him and shut up, keeping the warm wool over your head. 

Next time, you’ll look at the weather app to save your heart some trouble. 

Or maybe you won’t.

Walking closer to your apartment complex, naturally accepting the fact that Renjun decided to walk you home– or just hasn’t realized he’s doing so yet– you fall into comfortable conversation, mostly consisting of you complaining and Renjun finding your tangent amusing.

“My groceries will get all wet! Fucking hell, Renjun…”

“I didn’t force you to come,” he laughs.

“Well, but you have the weather app, as opposed to me, so maybe you could’ve predicted the fact that it was going to snow soon,” you pout, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“And if I did?” 

“Then why’d you drag me out?” you huff, nearing the steps that lead up towards the front door of your building, being careful not to slip on them as you stand on the first one, towering above the man that takes his position opposite of you while you say your goodbyes. 

“Okay, next time get your groceries alone, if you’re just gonna complain the whole way,” he giggles at your fake offendance, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Snowflakes settle on the tops of his cheekbones, the rosy tint in his face taking your breath away, something in his eyes captivating you and hypnotizing you into doing things you would’ve never dared to do as you reach out towards his hair, now wet from the snow that manages to melt away on his body, brushing your hand through the locks.

“It’s gotten so long,” you muse, “the blonde’s all grown out now.”

He hums, the eye contact making you heat up despite the coldness that’s been trying to seep into your bones. “Maybe I should dye it back to black, then.”

Grinning, you shrug as your hand escapes his scalp. “Yeah,” you nod, “maybe you should.”

“It’s a plan, then,” he says before he grins, poking you in your forehead with his pointer finger as he takes a step back from you, heading towards the direction of his apartment. “I’ll text you,” he adds.

Paying your goodbyes to him, you stumble inside and reach your flat, your whole body on fire even though you’ve been freezing until now as you take off your wet shoes and tug the borrowed beanie from your head. Putting away the groceries, you wonder if there’s a significance in his decision, if the change of hair is the same as the reason why he loves spring; if new things are beginning, or if you’ve just tricked yourself into falling for him too hard.

“You have to mix it together with this first!” Renjun whines, sitting at the edge of the bathtub as he watches you open the box dye you bought together at the drugstore a few hours ago, pointing his finger at the white pack containing the mixing solution.

“Oh,” you mumble, clammy hands flying around and trying to read the instructions instead, too worried to mess up again and accidentally burn Renjun’s hair off. After a few moments of you silently turning the big sheet of paper around in all directions, you hear your companion snicker under his breath, standing up from his position at the edge of the bathtub and mixing the dye with the solution in a little plastic container he got from under the sink himself instead.

“Let me do it,” he shakes his head, “didn’t know you were this useless.”

“If you didn’t want me here, you could’ve just said so,” you put the instruction paper down, crossing your arms on your chest as you take a step back and look at him with an offended pout, watching as he gets everything ready. His hair is sticking all over the place and the shirt he has on is stained with bleach– you suspect he wore this exact outfit a few months ago when he dyed his hair blonde– the fabric hanging loosely down his shoulders. 

“I’m perfectly capable of dying my hair on my own, if you didn’t notice,” he says, “me wanting you here is the sheer reason for your presence.”

Heart skipping a beat at the sentence, masking it off with a fakely annoyed sigh, you watch him take a seat back at the edge of the bathtub when he’s done, motioning for you to take matters into your hands and start dying his hair. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll do so just to spite you,” you argue back, taking the plastic container with the dye into your hand and standing close to Renjun, parting his hair down the middle as you get the chemical-smelling mixture into his growing locks. Focused on the task at hand, trying really hard not to get the dye all over the place, you almost get lost in the motion of playing with his hair and pay too much attention to each section, your touch gentle not to tug at his hair. It  makes you not notice the way you’re suddenly standing in between Renjun’s opened legs, your skin covered by fabrics of sweatpants touching.

His head suddenly moves, making you almost dye his whole forehead black, when he plops a gummy worm into his mouth and regains his previous position. 

“Stop moving or else it’s gonna look bad!” you scowl, frustrated with the fact that he made you lose your focus.

“Want a gummy worm?” he asks, looking up at you with an innocent smile instead– as if to make you forget all about his actions from before– and you reward him with an annoyed shake of your head that shows him disapproval which he seemingly chooses to ignore as he reaches into the pack of gummies again and holds one up to your lips, fingertips brushing against the skin of your mouth making you feel heat in your cheeks. You didn’t want a gummy worm, but with the proximity of his hand to your face and the starry gaze he offers you when you meet his eyes, you don’t hesitate to take the gummy into your mouth and chew on the candy, earning yourself a satisfied smile.

Turning towards his hair again, the last few strands left undyed waiting for your attention, the man suddenly squeezes your thigh, making you wince. “How is it going up there?”

“Good,” you choke out, suddenly hyper aware of his hand resting on the skin of your leg, as if to hold you in place, his other hand working almost on auto-pilot as he completes the symmetry and grazes your other thigh, his touch on you so gentle you could almost miss it if you didn’t pay enough attention.

“If it’s patchy, I’m blaming you and not the dye,” he teases, drumming against your leg with his fingers, each little gesture making you less and less focused on his hair and more on the way his eyelashes fan over his cheekbones from above, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound close to frustration or the sound of perhaps losing your mind. 

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have bought the cheapest one.”

“I’m staying on budget,” he says, making you snicker.

Forcing yourself to focus back onto his hair, you finally complete your task of dying the man’s hair back to its original color. Taking a step back from him and putting the plastic container onto the sink, you start to miss the feeling of his hand on your skin; his hair slicked back by the dye makes him look oddly amusing, though, so you let a grin slip out at the sight of your companion sitting at the edge of the bathtub like a scolded child, his legs outstretched right in front of him and a pack of gummy worms once again firmly gripped in the palm of his hand.

After cleaning up the mess you’ve made on the bathroom sink, with Renjun singing to himself as he put up a timer on his phone for 20 minutes, you find yourself in his kitchen, walking around and finding a pot in which you could cook some ramen for dinner. It’s getting quite late and it’s rare that you find yourself alone in Renjun’s apartment with him, his roommate finally getting out after the dreaded exam season to celebrate, and you can’t help but find the domesticity of sharing his space with him– although this is not the first time– overtake you in a deep feeling of intimacy.

Stirring the noodles around with a fork you found in one of the drawers, listening to the low hums of Renjun singing in the bathroom as he cleans up the skin on his forehead and behind his ears with a wet cotton pad, you wonder how you managed to get used to this– how you even managed to find yourself in the presence of Huang Renjun so often, after only hearing about him from gossip around the school halls and hating his presence when you first had to work with him. It’s ironic, but you don’t hate it quite as much as you would think. 

“You’re making ramen?” he asks as he finally reaches the kitchen, big eyes full of thankfulness meeting yours when he notices you getting out some plates to transfer the meal into, since you’re close to being done.

Humming in agreement, you see him lean on the kitchen counter from the corner of your eye, a satisfied smile reaching his lips. “I should invite you over more often.”

“I’m here like twice a week, Jun,” you mumble, focused on not spilling the meal all over the place.

“Well, if it means you’ll cook all the time, you can even move in, if you want to” he jokes, making you shake your head in disbelief as you take the plates and move them to the coffee table you are so used to sitting at by now, since the boys don’t really have a dining table in their apartment, making them (and sometimes you joining) eat all the meals at the coffee table, sitting on the ground.

“And where would I sleep? On the couch? No, thank you,” you shake your head, digging into the noodles and blowing on them to make them cool faster.

“I’ll kick Hyuck out, so you can have his room,” he mumbles in between bites, following you. 

“So you just want me to be your maid, got it,” you nod.

“That’s not what I said,” he looks at you with offense, before digging into the noodles again, mumbling under his nose before taking a bite, “although you would look nice in a maid dress-”

Kicking him in the leg, seeing as he chokes up on the food from laughing, you shake your head in disbelief at his antics. You think it’s the hair dye getting to his brain, so when his timer goes off in a few minutes after you’re both done with the food, you thank god for bringing you out of your misery. 

Listening to the sound of the shower as he washes the hair dye off, you take it upon yourself to clean up the dishes. You’d feel bad for leaving a mess in his kitchen, and you also think it’s a nice thing to do. It only takes a few minutes before he’s out of the bathroom again, hair damply sitting on his forehead, his figure twirling like a ballerina– reminding you of the way you did little fashion shows for your father whenever you came home from shopping with your mum– waiting for what you have to say about his new look, although in true reality, he looks just the same as a few months ago. 

“Does it look good?”

“I can’t tell ‘cause it’s wet,” you say, squinting your eyes at the mess on his head, “go blow dry it.”

“Fuck no,” he shakes his head, protesting, “I hate blow drying my hair.”

“Why? I can’t tell if it’s patchy this way,” you say.

“My hands get tired and I get bored and I just really don’t enjoy the experience,” he simply states, and he wins– whether this was his intention or not– as you drag him back to the bathroom and get out of him where he keeps the blow dryer, plugging it in and moving to do it for him. 

There it is again– that funny feeling in your stomach as you move your hands through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you blow dry his locks. The feeling makes you weak in your knees as you look at the boy who now has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the motion of your fingers threading through his freshly dyed strands, and when you finally turn the device off and watch him open his eyes, looking at you half-lidded and seemingly a little tired, you once again notice his hands on your thighs as he sits at the bathtub, although now the touch is more firm, pulling you close to him. 

“Are you happy now that your hair is black?” you find yourself asking, your eyes bearing into him as you reference the dialogue you two had when he dyed his hair blonde, when you two didn’t know each other well just yet and he told you the wishful secret of wanting to have more fun as a blonde since he was sad when his hair was black. 

His smile looks a little drunk, despite the both of you being completely sober as he replies, acting as if he was getting tipsy off your proximity and gentle touch. “My hair’s black because I’m happy, not the other way around,” he mumbles, your eyes momentarily drifting to his pretty lips as he talks, their rosy plumpiness making it hard for you to unstuck your gaze from the curve of his smile and focus on other features of his face.

“Good,” you nod, your hands finding their place at his shoulders, almost going for a hug, but never really completing the action. 

“So how do I look?” he asks again, your conversation growing quiet in the intimate atmosphere, voices not wanting to interrupt the calm, yet tense harbor. 

Examining him, you find yourself once again attracted to the boy you see in front of you. He looks exactly like he did before his break-up– yet now, you’d argue and say he looks even better; healthier and more radiant, his features gentle, hair a little longer and his smile reminding you of an angel. Humming to yourself, you brush your hands through his black strands again, letting yourself indulge in your growing feelings for the man for just a second, before the moment is gone. “Really pretty,” you mumble, watching as his smile grows for a mere second before his eyes drift from yours down to your lips, making you forget how to breathe.

Your hands continue to get lost in his hair as you stare at each other for a while, silence in the bathroom making you listen in on each other’s breathing, before your brain fails you and you let yourself operate on auto-pilot, leaning down to his face, surprised to see him meet you in the middle. You kiss him as if you’ve been waiting ages to do so, your lips molding in with his in a perfect harmony, firm, yet still unmistakably gentle contact making you shiver. 

It feels like a century before you pull away, ready to face the consequences of your actions, when he captures your lips in another kiss, drunk on the action. Feeling him standing up from the edge of the bathtub and moving his hands to firmly grip your waist before he walks you backwards against the tiled wall, the coldness of it mixing with the heat spreading across your body makes you gasp into the kiss and invite his tongue into your mouth.

Your hands fall from his hair and find their way around his neck, tugging him close, while one of his gentle palms rests on your jaw, angling your face in a way that lets him take control and have you even closer, two bodies seeking each other’s presence.

“Renjun…” you gasp when his lips move away from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw, slowly reaching the delicate skin of your neck and the conjunction of your shoulder. 

He hums into your skin, a cold hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt making you wince, all of his actions making your senses hyper aware to the touch and feeling of his lips pressed against you, especially when he finds the sweet spot behind your ear and makes you squirm under him, the feeling of his smile against your skin turning you crazy.

Finding yourself tugging his face back to yours, taking back his lips, his hand travels up your side, leaving goosebumps all over your skin with the cold motions of his fingertips, you shiver under his caring, yet teasing touch. The kiss feels as if it’s one step away from heaven, letting out a satisfied sound when he softly brushes the underside of your breast.

Pressing him closer against you, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, you feel him hard against your thigh, neediness overtaking you as you lightly move against him, hearing him choke out a breath. “Is- is this okay?” he asks, voice not louder than a whisper before you continue with your motions, answering with your actions before using your words, breathing growing quicker with the way the friction makes you feel.

“More than okay with me,” you mumble, seemingly encouraging him as he presses you firmer against the tiled wall, helping you guide your desperate movements. Foreheads pressed against each other, breathing mixing in the silent room, you can’t seem to find it in you to stop, completely losing yourself in him and in the way he makes you feel, selfishly chasing down release from all the butterflies and electric stares he’s been sending your way.

Grunting when you press up against him in a way that sends sparks down his spine, his hand reaches up under your thigh, almost on the skin of your butt, holding up your leg to make more room and get you even closer to him, before he heaves out a sigh. “Let’s go to my room?” he asks hastily before you nod and let him plop you up against his figure with your legs entangled around his middle, escaping the cold tiles of the bathroom and walking over to the his room smelling of fresh laundry detergent and vanilla, soft sheets enveloping your body when he lightly drops you into his mattress.

A giggle escapes your lips at the contact of your body with the bed, earning yourself a playful roll of Renjun’s eyes as he leans over you, plopping himself up on one elbow above you, caging you in his embrace. Maintaining eye contact with him, blissful smiles stretching on your lips, you almost think the moment is over, but he quickly brings you back to the neediness you felt before as he leans in again, kissing you painfully slowly while his hand reaches under the hem of your shirt, letting his palm travel against your body. His actions make you shiver as his fingertips softly tickle your side, moving towards the dip of your waist, then back up across your stomach as he traces mindless shapes against your skin, occasionally letting himself travel up towards the fabric of your bra. Cupping one of your breasts into his hand, you let out a soft grunt when he squeezes the flesh softly enough to make you yearn for more.

Mirroring his actions, your hand moves under his loose shirt, hypnotized by the heat of his flesh. Enveloped in his warmth and the smell of him in his bedsheets, you let yourself roam up his abdomen, embracing the way his muscles jolt a little under your touch, before your hand settles onto his back, fingertips dancing up and down his spine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he mumbles, making you break into a blissful smile, before his hand lazily dips down your belly, seeking approval in your eyes, “can I?” 

Nodding, afraid of seeming a little too eager– although maybe he would welcome that with open arms– you feel his fingertips messily dragging down the waistband of your sweatpants a little by little, leaving you in front of him only in your underwear, his lips swallowing your sighs when he hesitantly brushes his thumb against your clit. 

His movements get more confident as he adds more pressure, making you let out a few more muffled sounds he welcomes with a cocky smile, demeanor shifting as he presses a wet kiss against your cheek when he drags your underwear down and gets back to where he was before, but now acting more gently– as if the contact of your bare core with his fingers made him afraid you’re gonna break in his hold. Softly nudging your thighs, opening up your legs and softly tracing his pointer finger down your slit, he makes your cheeks flush from the contact and the feeling of air against your naked bottom half.

He doesn’t say much as he tests the waters, dragging his digits along your folds, examining your reaction when he circles your sensitive bud and sees you crumble under his touch. Your hands grip his pearl white sheets, not really knowing what to do to ground yourself back to reality, the man above you finally finding enough courage in him to insert one finger, then two inside of you, watching you react to his actions.

“Feels good,” escapes your lips, and truthfully, you didn’t even catch yourself saying it. It left your mouth on itself, your tone a little fragile but full of eagerness, wanting more– and seemingly understanding, he moves inside you with more reason now, hitting the right spot that makes your eyebrows crease and your breathing hitch in your throat.

“There?” he asks, as if to tease you. In any other circumstance, you’d find it in you to bark back something full of sarcasm and irony, but now, vulnerable and sensitive to his every move, you only nod eagerly and meet his eyes which are now clouded with lust, a view you’ve never experienced before, but welcome with undeniable curiosity.

Angling his fingers inside of you just the way you need them, you quickly feel yourself reaching your high, one of your hands flying to his forearm as if to let him know or warn him, somehow. Judging by his actions, he got the memo– showing his experience when he continues with the same speed and pressure, keeping still– before he slowly trips you over the edge, having you clenching around his fingers as you let moans slip out from your lips, euphoria taking over your whole body.

His figure leans into you, holding you close as your breathing comes back to normal, his lips press soft kisses to your temple. It’s almost a hint that the act is over, his actions growing more tender as opposed to the way he had you just a few moments prior, but you find yourself not wanting it to end, tugging his shirt up and earning yourself a questioning look.

“More?” you mumble, looking at him, grabby hands helping him take his shirt off. Your please sound almost like a question– they may as well be, for you don’t know if he wants this too– but he reacts to you positively when you have your eyes roaming across his bare torso, hands flying towards your own shirt, taking it off before you chastly press against him, both of you sitting at his bed, meeting him in a kiss as you settle yourself into his lap. 

In this moment, there’s nothing but him. Your head spins with his essence, your brain painfully aware of everything; of your hands holding his cheeks when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth, chasing after his neck in a desperate need of leaving a mark, wanting evidence of you being there the next morning, so you could remind yourself that this wasn’t just a dream or a product of your own imagination. When you press down against his lap, dragging your naked core against his hard on, his hands grip your sides, sneaky fingers trailing up after a moment as he tugs the straps of your bra down before slipping it off completely, leaving you naked in front of him.

Lifting you by your hips and moving you back against his pillow, laying you into his sheets, he lets you drag his sweatpants down, your fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxers and gently dragging along the sensitive skin, feeling needier at the sounds of satisfaction escaping his lips. Bringing him closer with your other hand, he takes a moment to confirm with you one last time. 

“Are you sure you… want this?” he doesn’t seem to find the right words, leaving you softly laughing at his puzzled expression.

“I am,” you nod, assuring him, “I- I want you,” you mumble, still loud and clear, and he wastes no time in freeing himself of his underwear and aligning himself with your entrance.

He slowly pushes inside of you, his whole length filling you up. He leaves you some time to adjust, checking in with you with a look to your eyes, fingertips gently dragging your hair out of your face before you confirm with him that you’re okay with a soft nod, making him move and gently thrust inside of you; painfully slow at first, but reaching deep, taking in every inch of you. Pleasure builds inside of you as his thrusts become more quicker, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your hands fly to his back, scratching down along his skin when he hits your spot and your eyes shut in a spell of satisfied sighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your lips, a sentence sweet enough to make your cheeks flush under him– yet you think the heat you feel is more than shyness from his words, but from the contact of his skin on yours, driving you absolutely crazy.

His finger gently plays with your clit, slowly, but surely tipping you over the edge. You hold back a moan, head falling to your side on his pillow, Renjun’s lips pressing kisses into the now exposed areas of your neck, still going at a steady rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you let out when he picks up at speed, the imaginary glass of pleasure in you getting fuller and fuller, making afraid of it spilling out when he keeps going, your hand flying into his hair, tugging at it in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, “I’m close.”

He hums against your neck, softly biting a bruise into your flesh. He doesn’t say much, again– his loving is quiet, only occasionally letting out needy noises out past his lips here and there, grunts slipping out when you feel just right around him. You find it hard to keep up with the silence, blissful sounds escaping you when he takes you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as he’s still thrusting into you, chasing down his climax and making the most out of yours. You swear you can see stars, the tips of your fingers starting to tingle when you get a little too overstimulated, but before you can do anything about it, he slips out of you and warmth spreads on your stomach, his body crashing next to yours.

He doesn’t say much after either. The room falls into silence, your bodies heaving with deep breaths as you try to calm down the erratic beating of your hearts. Mindlessly threading your fingers through his hair, you stare at the ceiling, his arms draped over your middle, occasionally playing with the flesh of your hip, squeezing it with his palm and dragging his fingertips across the soft skin. Looking down at him, not seeing much other than the raven locks falling into his forehead and his closed eyes, you try hard to appreciate the closeness of his body, just in case you don’t get to experience it ever again.

Feeling his nose nuzzling into your skin, you wonder if he’s happy.

Dark, wallowing pit opens up in your stomach, the harrowing feeling you didn’t know you could recognise fills you up to your rim; your vision goes a little blurry at the sight in front of you and after a few seconds of torturing yourself by watching, you feel the bitter taste of blood on your tongue from gnawing at the gentle skin of your bottom lip too hard. That alone wakes you up from the weird transe you’ve been put in, making you turn on your heel and chime outside of the building, the iced americano in your hand thrown in the nearest trash can as you take the short way home, suddenly wanting to hide away from everyone and everything, too fragile to deal with the outer world today.

You open up the door to your apartment with a little struggle, your hand shaking not making it easy for you to put the key inside the keyhole, and when you finally get to the comfort of your little place, you’re met with Jimin’s concerned eyes waiting for you in the hall, her figure hesitantly walking over when she heard you struggle with the door.

Closing the door behind you a little too loudly, careless in your actions from how hard your heart is hammering against your ribcage, your roommate approaches you with gentle words. “What happened? Weren’t you meeting up with–”

“No,” you shake your head, cutting off her sentence before his name manages to come out of her mouth, your throat closing as you choke out the response; the soft gaze she offers you at the stern words of disapproval makes your eyes water even though you already promised yourself you wouldn’t cry over this.

“Oh, sweetie,” Jimin mumbles as her long legs make their way towards your shrunken figure, enveloping you in her arms. You let yourself be comforted, almost yearning for the slow strokes she gives your back, her long fingers threading through your hair. There aren’t many instances where you two had to hold each other in the entrance hall, too afraid of letting go before one of you breaks. You remember her breaking up with her boyfriend Jaehyun– they dated for a couple of months last year before he had to move away and a long distance relationship wasn’t something either of them was willing to put each other through– but that time, it was in the comfort of her bedroom and you watched the first season of Too hot to handle together after it was done to take her mind off things. You, however, don’t have much dating experience. Not a significant one anyway– you only dated in high school, and even though the boy you crowned your first in many things was sweet, you simply fell out of love with him after a few months and called it quits, with no tears shed and no hearts broken.

“I think I was just a rebound,” you get out in between your quiet sobs, the image of Renjun sitting at the cafeteria with Yunjin, his soft gaze offered to her as she leaned over the table and said something quietly to him before pressing a kiss to his cheek only further proving your claims.

And you guess you were the stupid one– you guess you were silly for thinking he was over his ex already, even if it’s been a couple of months since they broke up, even if he told you he didn’t miss her, but was sad to let go what they had– because the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at her hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined, because you think you remember him looking at you like that the evening you dyed his hair black; you remember him looking at you like you hung up the stars on the sky, and you believed the gentle gaze– you believed there was something more than sex to it, you believed he felt the same feelings as the ones you’ve been harboring for the boy ever since you first hanged out at his place and watched Netflix with him to take his mind off the said girl.

Jimin doesn’t ask any questions– she knows you’ll tell her eventually, you just need comfort right now. Sniffling as you try to come down from the heartbreak you’ve caused yourself, you groggily get out a sentence that hurts to say out loud perhaps the most from the feelings freely roaming around your brain. “I don’t think it meant anything to him– I– I don’t think I meant anything to him.”

As if to torture yourself even more, the images of you two getting closer over the time flash through your brain– and you wonder if you were just lying to yourself the whole time. If his words weren’t what he made them out to be, if his gentle nature that overtook him when you were around was just him treating you as one of his friends. If he hooked up with you only because he was horny, and not because he cared for you enough to want to explore you further, deeper– if you were the only one in it for something more, if he was just keeping himself busy while trying to get over his ex.

And much like that time at the party, where he held you close and spent the whole night pretty much glued to your side, right in front of everyone’s eyes, you wonder if you just fulfilled your purpose in his life. 

“Shh,” the girl shushes you out of your self-destructive thoughts, still not getting any context on what happened, but being there for you anyway, “let’s just watch something, okay? We have the whole day off to ourselves, let’s watch this new anime I’ve been eyeing, what do you say?” she mumbles, seeing as you tiredly nod and she affectionately squishes your cheeks together, leading you towards the living room.

If you weren’t so numb right now, you’d even giggle. Jimin doesn’t watch anime– the amount of reality TV she watches is quite concerning sometimes– and her effort to aimlessly search through the internet for the first episode of an anime she randomly saw on Tiktok one day and thought would suit your watching style both amuses you and makes your heart warm just a little. Indulging in TV series is one of the only coping mechanisms either of you can ever come up with, it seems.

When the opening credits roll, you hear your phone’s notification sound pop up, your hand reaching for the device. You don’t even get an opportunity to look at who is texting you before your roommate snatches the phone out of your hand, swipes across the screen and turns it off with one swift motion, forcing you to focus on the animation going on the TV.

Sometimes, all you need is your caring roommate to take over everything. Today, more than ever, you’re more than willing to give yourself into her hands.

After that, you do what you think anyone in your situation would (or wouldn’t do, to be precise). You don’t text Huang Renjun random things throughout the day like you used to– you no longer laugh at weird memes he finds funny with him and you no longer read his texts that are full of random complaining, mostly about his roommate Donghyuck, throughout the day. You don’t meet him to work on the project together. It’s almost done and you still have time– you are planning on just finishing it by yourself and turning it in on the day it’s due, with no contact with the male. You also don’t call him when you’re walking home alone in the late hours of the evening, scared and yearning to find comfort in his saccharine words. You don’t even look at his messages– he sent you multiple– only letting yourself to check the contact name before you swipe the notification away without giving it much thought, making yourself ignore all of his calls the moment you hear your ringtone go off. Worst of all, you don’t even attend class anymore. You’re glad for the past you that managed to attend every single class, because now, you have more than enough absences to use up before the semester ends and you go on spring break.

You do everything in your power to erase him out of your life. It takes an admirable amount of self-control, you must admit.

And sometimes, it even feels silly. It feels stupid to react so much to seeing him with his ex girlfriend, because frankly, you two weren’t dating. No amount of touches, gentle words, hang-outs after the sun sets and intimacy means that you are a couple; it didn’t matter that you opened up to him so much when neither of you confirmed to this being inclusive. The day before you dyed his hair back, you two were just good friends, after all. Sex didn’t change anything– even though you thought it would. 

And maybe that’s what’s making you feel even more angstier about the whole thing. You gave him every last ounce of yourself you had, every inch of your body, from the inside out– so now, you feel thrown away, as if you were useless.

The cold nights slowly turn into warmer evenings, birds chirping outside waking you up in the mornings even more reminding you of the man you lost somewhere along the way. Spring was the favorite season of you both, but somewhere deep inside of you, you’re starting to dread it. Maybe it’s the fact that you were yearning for a new beginning for yourself in spring; for something to be born seemingly out of nothing– but it seems like you are supposed to bloom by yourself now, and you’re finding it harder than ever. 

It’s the beginning of the second week of March. Warm sunlight makes your feet spring up from your bed in the early morning, forcing you to take a walk. You’ve gotten used to going on these, as many call it, ‘mental health walks’ lately– you read on the internet that they help your mood, and even though it’s a slow progress, you’re willing to try anything, at this point. 

You chose a fixed destination you walk to every other day. It’s on the opposite side of the campus– where the Science buildings are– and you would be lying to yourself and everyone if you said you didn’t carefully craft the journey so you wouldn’t get in contact with the man you’ve been trying to avoid for the last two and a half weeks. It’s far away from your apartment, and even further away from his. There’s no reason for him to visit those parts of the campus, and you find comfort in the fact. 

Finding a bench under a cherry blossom tree– it’s slowly starting to wilt these days– you sit in silence for a while on some days, and on others, you put in your earphones and watch the world around you go by without you moving a single finger, trying to find comfort in the fact.

Listening to the playlist you made in the crack of dawn last night– Renjun always made fun of you for the fact that you once listed ‘making Spotify playlists’ as your hobby– you fall deep inside of your thoughts. When this happens, it’s hard to control your mind and think of something positive. The only thing left for you to do is to hope and pray you don’t spiral.

Why did it even matter so much to you anyway? It was just a kiss to his cheek. It’s not like you caught them in the act…

However, still, the image of them looking so comfortable together broke your heart; because somewhere along the way, you thought he’d always feel resentment towards the girl. She broke his trust, she made him feel worthless, and it was left for you to take all those broken pieces of him and glue them back together. You didn’t realize it back then, but just the fact that you didn’t give up on him back when he was being difficult was enough for the boy to feel at least a little better again. Your nagging, yet silent acts of meeting him somewhere in the middle, even on his worst days, was a source of comfort for him. And after a while, you started noticing that– you started noticing him warming up to you every time you met, you started noticing his gratitude towards you in the little acts of service he brought with himself when he bought you snacks or texted you if you came home safely after your meetings. 

You guess that seeing Yunjin talking so freely with him, seeing her kiss his cheek with such tenderness, made you feel so deeply, easily replaceable in his life. You guess you always feel like that with everyone anyway. It’s a bad habit you find hard to break– maybe you too, just need someone to be patient with you while you heal.

“What are you listening to?” you hear a voice, tone close to honey, ask from the place next to you. It makes you jump in terror, both from recognising it so easily and from not expecting him to find you here, so far away from everything, as you look at him with surprised eyes.

You don’t know what it is that keeps you silent. Perhaps it’s surprise. Perhaps it’s pettiness. Perhaps it’s shame. 

The feeling makes you stiff in silence, everything in you refusing to respond to his sudden casualty. “Okay, I’ll just stalk your listening activity on Spotify when I come home again, then,” he shrugs, his uninhibited demeanor making you boil inside. You feel like your insides are on fire, you feel like the whole world came crashing down on you because of mere seconds of seeing him with someone that he once held so dear to his heart, making you  feel replaced and forgotten, and yet, he comes to you so easily and doesn’t even acknowledge your hurt?

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice soulless as you turn your music off and put your tangled earphones into your jacket pocket, finally choosing to recognise his presence. 

“Talking to you,” he shrugs, “I… brought you coffee,” he smiles, showing you the Starbucks take-out cardboard holding two drinks together, one iced americano and one caramel latte, the sight making your heart warm up quite dangerously at the thought that after all this time, he got your coffee order down, he noticed you sweetening your drinks, and he remembered.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you scoff. “How did you know I’d be here?”

The man shrugs. “I didn’t, at first. I… I came to your apartment to talk to you, but Jimin said you weren’t home, so after a few minutes of begging her to tell me where I could find you, she gave up and sent me here.”

You guess you’ll have to have a serious talk with your roommate when you come home.

“Why… why are you here, then?” you ask, still feeling the bitter pettines on your tongue when the words escape your mouth.

“Well,” he starts, taking a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, “at first I thought I’d give you space. I thought you didn’t want to talk with anyone and you kept ignoring my texts and calls, so I texted Jimin to ask if you were okay, and when she told me you were doing fine, I figured it had to do something with me. And then– and then I thought I’d give you some space, since you looked like you needed some, but… but I think I need to face the problem now, since it’s clearly… something big, you know…” 

It’s undeniable that Huang Renjun is quite the smart individual. His ability to instantly sense your emotions and decipher the meaning behind them never fails to catch you off guard, though.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you suddenly notice the nerves he tried to mask by fake casualty. He keeps chewing on his bottom lip and he’s picking at his cuticles so hard you think they’ll bleed at any minute, his frame small and hesitant as he turns away from you, afraid to meet your eyes. He looks so, so guilty, and you suddenly feel stupid for making such a big deal out of something that shouldn’t have mattered to you in the first place.

“What… What did I do to hurt you?” he asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Because you must be hurt, if you’re avoiding me this much.”

Taking a deep breath in, you shake your head at the whole situation. He’s right, though– perhaps it’s time to finally face your problems now, so you can move on. Maybe this closure is what you need, maybe you need to hear it from him– to hear that it didn’t mean anything to him, to hear that Yunjin apologized and he’s gonna get back together with her, because somehow, your brain convinced you this was the case– to finally let him go and stop mourning something that was never there in the first place. “I–” 

Your words fail you.

“Do you… regret it?” he asks, voice so small you almost don’t hear him. 

The sentence takes you off guard. Looking at him, you can’t even bring yourself to speak, confused eyes roaming over his tense features. Opening up your mouth to ask for clarification, he mumbles again before you get a chance to speak. “Do you regret sleeping with me?”

Blinking at him a few times, a crease appearing in between your eyebrows, you shake your head. Is this really what was running through his brain? Is this why he left you alone for more than two weeks? Because suddenly, it makes sense– the way he gave you space and let you avoid him for two weeks before he came to find you in person– but again, this is not at all what was running through your brain all these days. Never once did you regret what you two did, no matter how shitty you’re feeling about it now after your brain convinced you of things that weren’t even real in the first place. “No,” you simply say.

A hint of relief washes over his face, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit– it looks like this was what he’s been scared of the most; it looks like he feared he hurt you in this way. Still, he insists on talking it out once and for all. “What is it, then?”

Shameful to meet his eyes, you point your gaze towards your feet. Convincing yourself that your feelings are valid and that you were right to feel the way you do, the same way you did to him all those weeks ago at the stairs in front of the university building, you confess to your worries. “I saw you with Yunjin the other day.”

Now it’s his time to stay silent, and somehow, your brain can’t find a way to deal with not getting a response from him, so you ramble to cope. “At the cafeteria, I mean. I– I wanted to surprise you, and you said you were getting lunch alone and I was at the campus, so I thought I’d come to keep you company, but then… then I saw you with her, and you two seemed so comfortable together, so close, and then she kissed your cheek and it made me… it made me feel like… like you maybe wanted to get back together with her, or something…?”

“And really, it’s fine, if you want to do that, I guess I just… for the sake of both of us, or maybe just me, I think… I think it’s better for me to keep my distance from you, then.”

Watching as his expression shifts to one full of disbelief, you swear that what you want the most in this moment is to disappear. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me those past two weeks?” he asks.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, suddenly feeling insanely silly and unreasonable when you say all of those things out loud, you avert your gaze from him, pointing it somewhere into the distance. 

“Is this really it?” he asks again, insisting, full of disbelief. “You made me feel like you regretted having sex with me, and this is it?” he chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s looking down on you, or if he just truly finds the situation funny. 

“Look, I–” 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gets out, looking as if every nerve and stress in his body finally let go, relief washing over his face like waterfalls, “I was so scared, and this is what’s been bugging you?” he asks, shaking his head in disbelief as he runs his hands through his hair. “She came to apologize to me. Not that it mattered something to me, and not that it made any difference, but I didn’t have it in me to tell her to fuck herself, you know? That’s what you saw. She told me she wishes me well and that she hopes I find joy in someone else too. She didn’t even– she didn’t even sit with me at lunch. She went to eat with her boyfriend.”

And here it is– the inevitable notion of shame intensifies. Finally having the explanation you’ve been wanting to hear, but purposefully avoiding for two weeks; finally feeling relief in your chest, your worries escaping out like the summer wind, and even though you should be happy, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I mean– it’s just… I’m sorry too, it’s just…” he trails off, making you look at him with examining eyes, eyebrows raised in question. You don’t really know what he’s apologizing for. Maybe for leaving you space even though he was convinced that’s what you needed– had he approached you earlier, you wouldn’t have to avoid him for two weeks.

“It’s just…?”

“I find it ironic how you thought I wanted to get back together with her, when in reality… you were the one I wanted to get together with in the first place, you know?” he asks, and if you squint hard enough, you could still see hints of nervousness in his body when he asks the rhetorical question, soft eyes scanning your face when your eyes meet.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth agape in surprise.

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, “cause I like you… like, a lot, actually, so…” he mumbles, the confession reminding you of your first weeks with Renjun– tense and awkward, but with a promise of something new the more you got to know him.

“Oh,” you repeat again, your brain still not catching up to the situation.

Suddenly, the two weeks of avoidance feel even more silly. You don’t know what happened in you to cause this much distress for the both of you, but you’re filled with delight with the fact that even though you expected him to get mad at you– to call you unreasonable, maybe even a little stupid– he seems to be understanding of your emotions. He seems to accept them, willing to put up with them and everything that requires of him; he seems to be willing to find you even at the end of the world and try to get you back into his life. Because only god knows how much he appreciates your presence in it. 

“So…” he mumbles, a silent question hanging in the air, making you realize you were too caught up in your thoughts to really give him an answer.

“I… I like you too, if that… wasn’t obvious,” you snicker, shrugging as a wide smile spreads across your cheeks. The words fall a little bashfully off your tongue, the confession ringing strangely in your ears, but you don’t mind the little uncomfort the shyness in your demeanor brings you.

There are no long confessions, no deep words of love. Once again, Huang Renjun is a man of few words– he shows you his care through actions. 

He finds you when you’re avoiding him. He makes sure you get home safe. He tries hard to work with you on a project he originally wanted to avoid, only because he notices you finding interest in it, your passion slowly sparking up his. 

He keeps annoying the publicist of your favorite author for a week straight to let you make an interview with her, even though he got declined twice over an email with messages filled with bitter and annoyed words. He remembers your coffee order and he invites you to hang out with his friends to show you that you are now a part of his circle, that you are one of his close ones. He lets you make fun of him with your roommate, but doesn’t give you the same treatment he gives Donghyuck when he tries to bully him. He sends you all the cat pictures he gets from his friend Taeyong, sometimes even asking for some when he hasn’t sent you ones in too long, and he also thinks of you any time he sees the snow– because he gets reminded of the walk you two had in the midst of the snowflakes, even though you hate the cold. 

He reads your favorite book and finds pieces of you scattered all across the pages, he feels his love for you in the poetic words and metaphors hidden in the plot. He lets you dye his hair to signify that a part of his life is now over and a new one started– with you being the main actor of the subtle metamorphosis as he slowly shifts back into his old self, yet now a little wiser. 

He is a man of few words, affection coating them only sometimes, when he reassures you over a mug of hot tea in the evenings before you present your assignments in class and when you get too scared of crowded places; but somehow, the words he keeps to himself translate to you despite not being spoken.

In the beams of the warm sun, you gravitate to him like you’re two planets in the solar system, always sharing the same space. And when his smile meets yours in another kiss, you think that after all, you get the kind of new beginning you wanted in spring.

You and Huang Renjun may be the prime example that love, just like cherry blossoms, always blooms in patience. 

[wonysugar]

hate rodrigo (literally) | aeri uchinaga

a/n: this is not even a fic this is a tiny little one shot that i wrote yesterday night AT LIKE TWO AM due to thoughts we had in a discord server ahem anyways I FELL ASLEEP THO. soo have this now!!

genre : really bad crack smut like i genuinely have no idea how to describe this

word count : like 600 something?

tags : one shot, smut (obvs), crack, ptv mention, falling in reverse mention, olivia Rodrigo mention, mcr mention, taylor swift mention (sorry @pupyuj)

pairing : angsty!giselle x whitegirlmusic!femreader (I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO LABEL THISSFJEKF)

your music taste wasn’t something you particularly shared with people, but you didn’t hide it, either. to you, it was music, nothing more, nothing less.

however, one of your friends, aeri, took music very, very seriously, and it really showed. she had a certain aesthetic, she wore certain things and god, did she listen to certain music.

“no like i genuinely can’t grasp the fact that you unironically listen to olivia rodrigo?” she laughed, leaning back on her bed as you stared at her in disbelief.

“god aeri, some of her songs are good, you just haven’t tried them.” you snapped back, wearing a convinced smile as you proceed to jokingly hit her arm.

“okay, sure, whatever. but just imagine getting to know someone, going on dates with them, all the sha-bang. then, when it’s time to get down and freaky, they turn on their sex playlist and motherfucking driver’s license starts playing??”

she was basically cackling at that point and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. defending your cause seemed like it would’ve been difficult, with how far up her own ass she was.

“yeah, because that isn’t a sex song? olivia rodrigo doesn’t make fucking sex music?? try putting a falling in reverse song while you get naked, see how that works out for you.” you fight back.

“oh i don’t know about you, but i’d be soaked for sure. plus, anything would be better than hearing young adult women sing about their previous relationship like it was a war they fought in.” she kid, crossing her arms in victory, as if she even won the argument in the first place.

“i’m gonna make you swallow those words right back up, uchinaga.”

“try me, l/n.”

-

“f-fuck y/n, go- mmh- slower..”

so, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way!

it originally was just the both of you, taking turns and putting different songs on the bluetooth speaker and rating them based on ‘how wet it got you’.

turns out, while that was a theory stage, there seemed to be a practice one too, and you’ve been in it for the past 10 minutes now.

thrusting your fake cock in and out of her, paying no mind to the very loud, very obnoxious pierce the veil song that was playing in the background, you pinned her hands above her head. your pace increased with time, and the decibels of her voice increased with the pace.

“oh my god y/n pleasepleasepleasepleasee i’m s-so sorry i- fuck me- i didn’t mean-“ she cried, poor thing probably didn’t even realize that her black eyeliner was running all over her cheeks. her arms and legs wrapped around you,

“shut your fucking mouth and take it, you emo fucking cumslut.” you slammed your strap into her as she yelled out your name. while she was pleading and begging for something, you were on top of her perfect laying-in-mcr-bedsheets body.

she, herself, wasn’t aware of what she was begging for, her mind was completely blank. all she could think about was how good her pussy felt when you pounded it so violently, when you were being so aggressive with her that you just used her body however you wanted.

you thought that whole thing would be a one-time occurrence, but no, it happened a second time, when she said that taylor swift had mid music. was she doing it on purpose or something?

anyways,

yes, you fucked her with the 1989 album playing.

[healmydesires]

you’re my medicine ꕤ (a.s)

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: you’re convinced you don’t like anakin, and that he loves to get under your skin. but one summer, you find out just how wrong you’ve been.

genre: fluff + angst + smut (18+ mdni) modern/lifeguards!au

word count: 16,5k+ (oops... bon appétit)

tags/warnings: frenemies/enemies to lovers (it’s one sided but oh well 🫣), miscommunication, assumed unrequited love from both sides, reader described as shorter than anakin, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, an oc as readers best friend, inexperienced/virgin!reader, a bit of thigh riding, unprotected sex, piv sex, loss of virginity, soft!dom anakin, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), kinda pleasure!dom? idk… I just love pleasure doms, multiple orgasms, creampie, a bit of daddy kink, some breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink, lots of pet names.

a/n: hellooo this is my very first anakin fic. this idea came up to me when I couldn’t sleep and I just. had to fantasise about it… and eventually I just. started writing it. anyways anakin is a new special interest and I’m literally obsessed with him. I just love him sm. ALSO! the title is inspired by bisous by aya nakamura! it’s a french song and I just. associate it a lot with him. hehe anyways ,, hope u enjoy <3 🥺

please don't forget to interact or reblog <3 thank u for reading <3 🥰 if u can, let me know if you’ve enjoyed it, it encourages me a lot!

AO3 • masterlist • playlist

Aquasplash, a water park in the south of France, near the French Riviera. Around sixty kilometres from Nice located in a city called Fréjus. 

Every summer, you come down to the south for eight weeks, to work as a lifeguard. The water park held too many children, multiple variations of slides, impressive sized pools and Anakin Skywalker.

Unbelievable. 

He’s always here during summer. Every year for the last three years and you can’t seem to understand why he keeps coming back to this particular place. It’s not like there aren’t any water parks overseas.

You can’t stand him sometimes. You know that hate is a strong word. One you try not to use often. But the frustration you feel whenever Anakin is around you consumes you to the point where you can’t even spare him a look sometimes. 

You don’t necessarily dislike the man, it’s just that he gets on your nerves in such a unique way and you can’t stand it. You truly can’t remember the last time you genuinely enjoyed his company.

He’s so charming, flirty, arrogant and just overall obnoxious. For some reason, he tries to make your life difficult. It can’t be for nothing. He thinks he can just come into your favourite summer job and sweet talk his way up to becoming one of the assistant managers. The job that you so desperately wanted, ripped away from you by the prettiest and most self-assured man you’ve ever met. All in the year when you thought you could become friends.

He ruined it all.

Yet, he’s still trying to be nice to you since day one. Too nice. You can’t seem to understand why someone would try to make you like them when all you did was being rude to them.

Either way, Anakin Skywalker is a fucking menace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It is early in the morning, the heat is already rising, warm and hazy, promising a hot summer day. 

You drive out of the centre of the city, the sun shining, windows down and the radio blasting your favourite pop song at the moment as you hum along to the tune. 

Once you see the “Aquasplash” sign you take the first turn right, moving off the main road, slowly following the small road towards the water park’s entrance. The sound of gravel crumbling underneath the wheels of your car gives you a nostalgic feeling. Bringing you back to when you would come here with your family every summer. 

As you pull your car into the staff parking lot of the water park and turn off the engine, you exhale loudly before closing your eyes briefly. You enjoy the short moment of peace as you listen to your surroundings. All you can hear are the seagulls squawking in the distance and the buzz of insects around you. 

“There’s my favourite princess.”

There goes your peace and quiet.

You swear under your breath, “fucking hell,” as you let your head fall against the top of your steering wheel. You slowly open your eyes as you give him a side glance.

Anakin is leaning against the right side of his car, staring at you with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. 

“Skywalker.” you greet him rather unfriendly, your voice filled with annoyance.

He shakes his head with a chuckle. “You don’t seem that happy to see me.”

“Nope.” 

A frown forms on his face, but as quickly as it appeared it vanishes. He composes himself and a grin replaces it. “Ouch! You wound me sweetheart, I thought you’d miss me.” 

“Missing you? Boy please.” You scoff and roll your eyes before you push your car door open, hitting Anakin softly with your door, pushing him out of your way after you take your duffle bag out of the passenger’s seat. 

You don’t spare him another glance as you make your way to the entrance of the park, locking your car with a press of a button. 

“I know you’re lying!” He shouts before you hear him follow you. 

This time you don’t reply. Too annoyed to give him your time of day. Anakin loves to bother you, loves having your attention on him at all times. You’re aware you’re a stubborn person and it never seems to make him stop to try and get you to look at him, to notice him.

You head towards the office near the entrance of the park. As you enter the building you notice that it’s full. You smile as you recognise some of your colleagues from last year and you wave at them.

You hear a familiar voice calling out for you and you can’t help but squeal as you see that it’s Padmé Amidala. You quickly drop your bag as you both envelope each other in a big hug.

“I’ve missed you so much!” She cheers as she squeezes you close to her. 

“Not as much as I missed you.” You smile as you pull away, winking at her.

“Impossible.” She tsks playfully. Her eyes move to Anakin who stands behind you and she gives him a friendly smile. “Hi Anakin.”

Anakin greets Padmé, before making his way further in the room. He comes to stand close to Obi Wan who is once again the manager for the summer.

“Alright, now that everyone has arrived, let’s get started with everyone’s assigned tasks and positions.” 

As he starts talking you zone out, still feeling quite tired from your long drive yesterday to the south coast. Padmé smiles knowingly as she sneaks a glance at you. 

Around fifteen minutes pass and he’s still going giving everyone orientation and their assignments, until you hear him call out your name. 

“Yes?” You blink as you make eye contact with him.

“You and Anakin are partners for the summer.”

“What?” You exclaim. You can’t believe what you’re hearing.

You see from your peripheral view Anakin smiling at you cheekily and you can’t help but move your face to his direction, narrowing your eyes at him. He shrugs at your expression and then returns his attention back to his friend.

“What this means for you two,” Obi Wan continues with a smile as you huff out in protest, “is that you will have to share most posts together.” He says as he hands out your timetable. 

“Alright, is this all?” You ask impatiently. 

“Yes—”

You sigh and roll your eyes dramatically before grabbing your bag and your friend’s hand, tugging her along with you, making her chuckle as you walk out the building to go to the changing rooms. Your colleagues shuffle out slowly afterwards. 

“Not a word.” you grumble.

Padmé’s eyes shine mischievously, as she presses her lips into a thin line in mock seriousness and makes a motion to zip her mouth with the hand you’re not holding.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

So far, the first two weeks are uneventful.

Every day whenever the visitors arrive, you are constantly busy. You’ve switched posts here and there but other than that nothing worth mentioning happened so far.

Anakin and you have been sharing the same posts but not that much either so it has been a rather peaceful two weeks for you. 

But this afternoon, you’re partnered with him again to observe the main pool of the water park together. 

“I don’t get it,” your colleague and one of your best friends, Padmé, smirks, eyeing you as she’s sitting at the table in one of the staff's kitchens while you slice strawberries for the both of you. “Anakin isn’t as bad as you make him to be.”

“Padmé…” you groan annoyingly before you continue, “that’s because he didn’t take the job you so desperately wanted for so long.” You’re already tired of this conversation, and it barely started.

Maybe it’s your own fault, for comparing yourself to him or that you resent him for getting that job. You’re quite literally aware of how childish it sounds, but you can’t seem to care. You know how much you deserved that job. 

Your friend rolled her eyes at your words. “You should really let this go, it’s not healthy. Besides… It's been two years—”

You cut her off instantly, continuing your rant. “He can’t just come here and take everything from me. He is already one of the best swimmers and lifeguards out there. He is so fucking ‘pretty’ and smart, he always gets whatever he fucking wants anyways. What else does he want?” 

You tangle your fingers through your hair in frustration as you sigh loudly. 

“Maybe…” she begins hesitantly and your gaze meets hers. “Maybe, he didn’t want to steal this ‘job’ from you. Ever thought that he wanted this job just as much as you?”

You scoff but she continues with a small smile. “And perhaps, my dear friend, you should try and be friendly with him. I meant when I said it isn’t healthy to hold such a grudge for two years. He is only trying to be nice to you.”

“Yeah sure,” you huff as you cross your arms in front of your chest. “He’s too confident around me, trying to get under my skin at all times.”

“Under your skin? I think he just likes you.” Padmé says with a smug smile.

“L-likes me?” You splutter as you feel your cheeks burn hot. 

Your friend shrugs nonchalantly, “it seems obvious to me.” 

Padmé isn’t right, she can’t be. 

“Anakin Skywalker doesn’t like me. Nor do I like him.” You whisper harshly as you sit down across from her with your plate full of strawberries.

“Of course.” She says as she grabs a strawberry from your plate, her voice sounding nothing but sarcastic as she rolls her eyes for the second time since she started this conversation. 

“What?” You level her with a glare. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re in denial, that's what.” She says impatiently.

Before you can even reply back, the man himself enters the room with a wide smile. You can’t help but stare at him as he greets the both of you. He’s wearing a white shirt that stretches across his chest, with the blue logo of the water park centred in the middle and red swimming trunks. His hair looks messy but he looks so beautiful, it’s unfair. The fact that he let his hair grow out makes him even more pretty. You’d be lying if you didn’t find him attractive, he’s extremely handsome but you would never admit that to anyone out loud. During the time that you spent observing him, eyes trailing up and down the tall length of him, you didn’t notice how Anakin did the same to you.

“Ready to get back to work?” He asks rather enthusiastically. 

“Sure, Anakin. I’m still on my break though. Let me finish eating and I’m good to go.”

His face lights up at your words. He doesn’t say anything and just regards you with a small smile as he leans against the nearest wall.

“What?” You feel yourself grow warm under his mirthful stare. Feeling rather embarrassed as he looks at you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugs, the smile not leaving his face. “You never call me by my name.”

You stare up at him, suddenly confused. You think about what he just said, trying to recall a time where you would call him by his first name. But you don’t remember anything. You always call him by his last name or ‘skyguy’. Heat overwhelms your body at the realisation.

“Well, okay. Don’t make me regret it.” You try to say as nonchalant as you can while trying to avoid looking at anyone, instead staring down your plate. 

You don’t have to look at Padmé to know that she’s staring at you, her smirk dripping with amusement. 

“I won’t,” He winks before moving away from the wall. “See you at the main pool, sweetheart.” He says with a wave as he leaves the room completely. 

You feel relieved once he’s gone, exhaling as you finally meet your friend’s gaze as she looks at you knowingly. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs with faux innocence. 

“That look does not say nothing, Padmé.” You look at her pointedly.

The brown haired girl laughs and shakes her head. You narrow your eyes at her as she continues to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” You huff as you cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“Well, it’s funny that you’re so oblivious to each other's feelings. Your own feelings specifically.” 

Hot warmth blooms across your chest at her words, until blood rushes to your ears, but you scoff either way. “What do you mean, feelings? There are no feelings. I don’t like him.”

You say it confidently even if you could hear a tiny distant voice in the back of your head calling you a liar. You push another strawberry in your mouth as she chuckles at your words.

“You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.” She snorts. 

You both fell in silence, mostly because you’re ignoring her. By now the plate of berries is empty and all you can do is stare at it. You sigh dramatically as you pick up your plate, moving to put it in the dishwasher after rinsing it off. 

“Anyways, my break is over. I’ll see you later.” You say as you make your way to the door.

“Don’t forget, we’re going out tonight!” Padmé calls after you.

“How could I forget, you’ve been mentioning it every day at least once this week.” You smirk as she sticks her tongue out at you playfully. 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been looking forward to it.” She says as she points a finger at you. 

“Yeah, yeah… anyways, see you after work!”

“Have fun with your loverboy!”

You flip her off and all you can hear are her giggles as you leave the room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The air is thick with humidity, the summer heat enveloping you completely, and smells like chlorine. The sun is beaming down on you as you’re sitting on one of the big red lifeguards chairs. You’ve been observing the pool all afternoon, sometimes blowing your whistle whenever some children would do water bombs too excessively.

Anakin is leaning against your chair. You’re simultaneously looking out after all the swimmers in the pool and occasionally listening to Anakin ramble about anything he feels like sharing with you.

“Sometimes,” you ponder out loud, “I wonder why Obi Wan paired us two together and— hold on, why are you blushing?”

“W-what? I’m not blushing.” Anakin splutters as his face flushes more as he averts his gaze.

A devilish smile spreads across your face. “Sure you are.”

“I am not.” He huffs as he continues to try and avoid looking at you. He looks kind of shy all of a sudden. His face is still flushed, his eyes are bright and his plump lips look so kissable— hold on, why are you thinking about his lips? And why do you want to kiss them? You try to mentally shake the thought out of your head but the damage has already been made. You feel a hot flash of warmth spread over your whole body.

You genuinely hope that he doesn’t notice any of that. 

You raise your brows at him, crossing your arms over your chest. You tilt your head as you stare at him.

“Anakin, do you have anything to do with us being paired?” 

“Of course not,” he says quickly, looking flustered.

“Mmm yeah, sure.” You smirk, entirely entertained by the way his gaze keeps avoiding yours. His silence is enough to make you giggle but you can’t enjoy it that long though.

“Why does it matter?” He says more confidently, finally looking at you directly. “Is something up with you? I’ve noticed that you haven’t insulted me in a while.”

You blink at him as your smile fades as heat flashes your face, because you actually don’t know what to reply to him. Anakin is right, you haven’t been insulting him for at least a week. 

You don’t answer him instantly like you usually do, and he chuckles as he shakes his head at you. 

“What?” You say a bit nervously, but you quickly collect yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you roll your eyes at him. “No, of course not. I’m completely fine. In fact I’m keeping all the insults for later.”

“Uh-huh, sure you are.” He says his lips twisting to hide his amusement, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Yes, I am.” You say with confidence.

He’s just watching you and you feel yourself grow warmer under his stare. Suddenly you feel very hot, feeling overwhelmingly warm. Maybe it's the summer weather, or maybe it’s something else.

As silence falls between you two it gives you a bit of time to think. About how the man is always being nice to you. Teasing you, being playful with you. The way he always tries to catch your attention. The way he loves to banter with you. 

Or how you notice a lot of things about him lately. 

Like how his skin tans so easily, how when he gets a bit too close you notice he has some green speckles in his eyes, how blue and black looks so good on him. Or how his white shirts tend to cling on him so well. Or how no matter which room he’s in, whenever he smiles he lights up the whole room. Or how the whole world seems to stop whenever he looks at you. 

You gasp as you look at him, hopping off your chair, walking closer to the tall man.

“What?” He snorts. 

“I know what you’re doing.” You narrow your eyes up at Anakin as you walk closer to him, poking a finger into his warm solid chest. 

“What am I doing exactly?” He looks down at you with an amused smile on his face, looking entirely too entertained. He’s so fucking charming, it’s infuriating you.

Your skin feels extremely flushed, a bit damp, your hair is sticking to your neck and sweat is beading at your chest, your skin and red bikini clinging to your shirt. 

“Stop being—” You stumble over your breath, as it hitches in your throat, realising that you’re both standing way too close to each other. You are close enough that you can see the outline of his features, the faint slope of his nose, his jawline, or the scar near his right eye. Both of your chests are almost brushing, his warmth radiating off on you. 

“Stop being what? Or rather, doing what?” He says, a smile still on his face. Why is he still smiling?

You try to put some distance again between the both of you, but as you do you almost trip, and his arms move quickly, hands coming to steady you on your waist. 

“Careful sweetheart, don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

“What?” A sense of panic envelopes you as you realise that his hands are still on you. Anakin’s hands feel warm and wide as his palms rest on you, over your shirt. His touch feels dizzying and it feels as if you are growing warmer by the second. 

“Angel—”

“No,” You shake your head frantically, as you push his hands off you. “Stop being so nice to me all the time, stop trying to distract me, stop giving me all those pet names. Just stop. I know what you’re trying to do.” He looks at you with wide eyes as you’re going off on a rant, not able to stop. “You’re trying to get to know everything about me, trying to be all nice so I let my guard down so you can just strike and take, just like you did last time.”

He looks down at the space between the both of you, tilting his head to the side as he frowns. 

“Sweetheart, what do you mean last time?” 

“You know exactly what I mean.” You mumble as you look away.

“No I don’t.” Genuine confusion and concern graces his features. “Also, am I truly distracting you?”

“Huh?” Your cheeks flush with warmth at his words as simultaneously you feel your anxiety bubbling up inside you, embarrassment overwhelming you. 

“You said I’m distracting—”

“I didn’t,” you cut him off nervously as the warmth in your face continued to rise, still not sparing him a glance. 

Anakin says your name in such a soft manner, as he tries to get you to look at him. Suddenly you have had enough of this conversation. Thankfully the loudspeakers announce that the park is closing in half an hour, saving you from talking more about the subject.

“I’d love to stay and chat but I have other places to be!” You say hurriedly as you quickly walk away from him. You ignore him as he calls out after you multiple times, determined to get home as quickly as you can so you could start and enjoy your weekend off. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You’re slowly swirling your straw in your favourite cocktail as you’re staring off in the distance, while you’re sitting on a lounge sofa at the new and fancy rooftop bar Padmé convinced you both to go to. Everything feels a bit hazy, probably because of the alcohol that’s warming up your body or maybe it’s the dimmed colourful lightning and the smoke that hangs a bit in the air. 

Your thoughts keep wandering off to earlier today, about the way Anakin looked so confused and how concerned he was when you had your whole rant in front of him. He genuinely looked like he didn’t know what you were talking about when you insinuated that he hurt you last time. What if he actually didn’t know—

You feel your friend nudge you as your thoughts continue to wander. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“Huh?” You blink as you look at her. You were so immersed in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear what she was talking to you about. “No, I’m sorry. Could you please repeat it?”

“Alright,” Padmé sighed. “What happened earlier?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumble as you avoid her gaze.

“Come on,” Padmé whispers your name, “I know something happened between you and Anakin.”

You exhale loudly, staring at your drink, shrugging. “There’s nothing much to talk about.” 

“Okay, well. If you eventually feel like talking about it, let me know.” She gives you a small smile.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you give her a grateful smile back as you squeeze her hand that’s closest to yours. 

You pull away, leaning against the sofa as you enjoy the last bits of light. The air is still warm, as the sun is setting. You can still hear the soft relaxing music in the background despite the amount of people talking over it. You close your eyes for a moment as you feel a breeze hitting your face, caressing your skin and hair. You desperately needed a night out and you’re thankful for Padmé picking out this location. 

“Man, I truly needed this.” You chuckle after you take a sip of your drink. 

“You mean going out?” Padmé smirks, “I knew you’d love it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You roll your eyes playfully, “you told me so.” 

“Damn right I did.” She smiles cheekily. “You always love going out.”

“Not as much as staying at home though.” You argue as your lips curl into a smirk. 

“True, true.” 

You both talk and properly catch up, finally taking the time to hear each other's stories since the last time you’ve been able to do so was months ago. She laughs as you tell her about all your dating experiences from the past year. Your dating life is quite literally a disaster. You can’t seem to find someone in life that you can truly connect with. No matter what gender. You either end up with another friend or the dates just stay at the first date. You crave a true connection. Someone you can truly be yourself with. Someone that you can talk to about anything and everything and someone that is truly there for you.

Minutes later your eyes stray from hers for a moment as you look across the bar, your smile slowly fading as you recognise Anakin and Obi Wan stepping out of the elevator that led to the rooftop. You feel your body flush with heat as you make eye contact with Anakin. You hate the way your body reacts whenever he’s around. It’s been reacting to him a lot more lately. He looks so incredibly handsome, annoyingly so, like he always does, but the lightning makes him look even more pretty. He smiles and gives you a quick wave before he leans closer to Obi Wan. He murmurs something in his friend’s ear as he gestures to the direction Padmé and you are sitting. 

“What are they doing here?” You question as you continue to stare into their direction. 

Padmé grins sheepishly at you after she looked behind her. 

You narrow your eyes at your friend suspiciously. “You have something to do with this?”

“I may have invited them…” she flushes as she bites her lip.

“Why?” You groan.

You don’t care that you sound whiny, or that your voice sounds a bit panicked, you just don’t feel like spending a whole evening or night with Anakin Skywalker. A moment that was supposed to be relaxing. 

“Because, we both like them. They are our friends.” She exclaims.

You’re not happy, or at least you convince yourself that you aren’t. But you don’t feel like arguing with Padmé right now. You decide at that moment that the both of you deserve to have a fun evening together and if you have to spend it with Anakin too then so be it. 

“How did you let them know where we were?” You raise one of your brows at her.

“I texted them?” She looks at you as if you asked her the most ridiculous question in the world.

“Okay, yeah, stupid question.” You roll your eyes with a laugh.

“You know, you could always ask for Anakin's number. I’m pretty sure he’d give it to you happily. You’re his favourite girl after all.” She smiles deviously.

You huff, shaking your head in the process. “I don’t need—”

“Hey,” Obi Wan smiles as he greets the two of you, “sorry it took us so long.”

You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, you truly hope they didn’t hear what Padmé said. You greet them with a small smile and you finally look at Anakin, finding him already looking at you. He greets you with a small “hi” as he smiles before you see his eyes scan your outfit. 

You’ve spent a good hour looking through all the clothes you brought along with you, debating which outfit would be the best for a night out. You wanted to look hot. So in the end you decided on wearing a black dress, one of those corset dresses with a deep plunge, with a thigh slit on the left side of the dress. You also have dark heels on, not too high but not that low either. You normally don’t like wearing heels, preferring your comfortable white sneakers, but Padmé insisted that wearing sneakers under such a pretty dress is a no-go. Plus you have a small black shoulder bag that’s sitting at your feet. As for your makeup, you’re wearing dark nude eyeshadow with smoked eyeliner, and on your lips you have some pinky nude shiny lip gloss. 

You feel your body grow warmer under his gaze, and you can’t help but feel a bit shy and insecure. You don’t understand why, but you kind of crave his approval.

You’re taking in his outfit. He is wearing a white button-up shirt, his chest a bit more exposed and you have to force yourself not to look too long. You don’t want him to notice that you’re looking at his chest. He’s also wearing some nice blue jeans, the kind that just look good on anyone.

Padmé calls out your name, and as you face her she is already smirking at you. You can’t help but roll your eyes at her.

Anakin clears his throat, “we’re getting drinks, do you guys need anything?” 

“No, we’re good. Thanks for asking.” Padmé smiles.

As both men leave to go to the bar, she turns to you once again. 

“What was that?” Padmé smirks with amusement. 

“What do you mean?” You mumble as you avert your eyes to your lap.

“Don’t act like you weren't staring at each other.” She says with a laugh. 

You sigh heavily, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh come on now.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

Before you can say anything back to your friend, you hear your name being called. Your eyes widen as you recognise that voice from anywhere. You quickly whip in your seat as you see one of your best friends standing there, Javier. 

“No way?” You gasp before quickly making your way over to your friend to hug him. “Is this real?” 

He chuckles as he envelopes you in a big hug. “I am very real, yes.” 

Javier is one of your closest friends besides Padmé that you’ve made since working at Aquasplash. He is a Puerto Rican exchange student that came to France to study Engineering. He worked with you for two summers straight until he moved back. You missed him terribly and hadn’t seen him for at least two and a half years. He’s always been a person that could make you feel important. He had a sense of humour that actually made you laugh. He’s one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. A lot of people think you guys have feelings for each other but all the love you have for the man is purely platonic. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” you chuckle as you pull back to look up at him.

“I missed you too, buddy.” He smiles warmly.

“How long are you staying?” You ask him hoping he isn’t here for a couple of days.

“I’m here on vacation for at least two months, so we can hang out as much as you’d like.” 

“Ah finally, I almost thought you wouldn’t show up tonight.” Padmé says with a teasing look as she crosses her arms, still in her seat.

“You knew?” You gasp.

“Surprise?” She smiles sheepishly. The two of you laugh at her words. 

“All these secrets.” You tsk playfully as you shake your head at Padmé. 

A moment later Obi Wan and Anakin both return with drinks. The bearded man smiles brightly as he recognises your best friend.

“Oh, hi Javier,” Obi Wan says, “it’s been a long time. How have you been?”

As both Javier and Obi Wan are catching up, your eyes almost automatically drift to Anakin. His eyes are almost narrowing at how close you and Javier are standing. You look at him quizzically before he looks away and sits down across from your original seat. 

You wonder why he was looking at the both of you like that. He looked almost jealous? You’re certain that couldn’t be the case, because you’re sure he doesn’t genuinely like you or feel about you in a romantic way. Besides, it’s not like you care. You don’t have much time to think about it, because Padmé gestures to you to come back to your seat, patting the space next to hers.

Once you are back in your seat your brown haired friend leans closer to you. “Javier looks so good.” Padmé whispers, loud enough for you to hear.

You snort, soon turning into a chuckle. 

“Yeah?” You ask with an amused smile. 

“Yeah,” she says as she bites her lip, hiding her shy smile. 

“Oh, do you have a crush?” Your smile turns more wicked.

“Shut up.” She groans as she slaps your arm. 

“Oh my god, you do.” You gasp.

“Quiet down,” She whispers as she looks around her, making sure that no one else hears them.

You giggle at her antics. “It’s okay, I think he has a crush on you too.”

“Really? You think so?” She asks with hopeful eyes.

Your smile turns soft as you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure. He tends to always look like a lovesick puppy around you.”

“You’re lying.” She pouts as she blushes furiously.

“Of course not.” You say as you look at her seriously. 

“Hmh,” she looks at you in disbelief. As if you’re still not being truthful with her.

“Don’t tell him I told you this but,” you whisper as you look around you before continuing, “he talked about you a lot whenever we would hang out.” 

You wouldn’t expose your friend like that if it wasn’t for a greater cause. You’re tired of the fact that two of your closest friends are pining after each other. Especially since now you know that Padmé has feelings for Javier too. 

“No way.” Her eyes go wide at the information. 

“Yes way.” You nod with a smile.

“Okay,” she bites her lip as the blush on her cheeks turns darker. “You think I should make a move?”

“Definitely, I think you should.”

A couple of moments later, Javier comes to sit next to Padmé. “What are you two talking about?”

You lean closer to the side as you make eye contact with your other friend. “Nothing you should concern yourself with.” You say quickly with the most saccharine smile ever. 

“Rude,” he pouts dramatically. “Is this how you treat your best friend who you haven’t seen in over two years?” 

You stick your tongue at him playfully in response. 

After a few drinks and the night turning darker, as the stars in the sky become more visible, the air is still quite warm, you start to feel extremely at ease. Conversations flowed easily with all of you and it was truly a good feeling to be talking to everyone. Even Anakin. Especially him. 

You’ve all been talking for almost two hours. And in those two hours, you’ve learned a lot about Anakin. Just like Javier, he’s studying engineering. The only difference is he's still studying abroad. He lives in Amsterdam apparently, which is your dream city to one day move into. He would laugh in such a sweet way as your eyes would widen at the information or your interest in the city. Would answer all your questions about one of your favourite cities in the world. 

Or how you learned how much he loves to read during his free time. Or his favourite music, specifically how he is a huge fan of Coldplay. He loves all kinds of music. He said he can’t stick to one music genre. There’s so much more that you’ve learned about him.

The more you know about him, the less you dislike him. The less he irritates you. Maybe after all this time, the irritation was something else entirely, buried under the false pretence of dislike. Most likely it was just pure jealousy. You used to genuinely like him. He always makes you feel things in such a furious way. He makes you think about him constantly. No, you know that deep down it wasn’t just jealousy, it was more than that. 

You know something has changed for you. What exactly, you don’t want to face yet. For now, you blame the atmosphere. Something in the air is making things shift around, feel different.

It’s only after you’ve emptied your second or third cocktail, you honestly have no idea, that Javier announces that all of you should do a game of truth or dare.

It’s as if the universe wants to play with you.

“Oh my god, no.” You groan.

“What’s up princess?” Anakin says with a teasing  smile. “You got anything to hide?” 

“W-what? No, of course not.” You stutter as you feel your body burn hot at his words.

“He does have a point.” Javier says as he tries to stifle a laugh.

“You should be on my side!” You exclaim dramatically. 

Padmé snorts next to you.

You turn to look at Padmé, narrowing your eyes at her. “What about you?”

“I mean…” she shrugs as she tries to fight off the smirk on her face.

“Great.” You turn to look across from you, ignoring the way Anakin is smiling mischievously as he looks at you. “I guess I don’t have to ask for your thoughts on this?” You ask Obi Wan.

The man shrugs and you huff.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”

You groan at his words.

“Come on, don’t be so dramatic.” Javier laughs. You look at him in a fake menacing way which makes your friend laugh even more. “Alright, alright. I will spare you, for now.” He gives you a look that says nothing but danger.

“How generous of you.” You huff, rolling your eyes at him. 

“You’re first,” your best friend says as he looks at you. “You get to choose whoever you want.”

“Nice,” you say with a devilish grin. You’re thankful that you have some time to mentally prepare yourself for once it’s your turn. Because you are certain that if it’s Padmé’s or Javier’s turn that you’re doomed. 

“Uh-oh,” Padmé says with apprehension. 

“Javier,” you start, the man groaning loudly at the mention of his name. “Ok, hold on, why am I not allowed to be dramatic but you are?”

“I’m not being dramatic.” He scoffs, as if you had the audacity to accuse him of such a thing.

“Anyways,” you roll your eyes. “Truth or dare?” 

“Dare,” he picks unhesitatingly.

You snicker at his choice. You pretend to think for a second before you clear your throat, “I dare you to kiss the hottest person in our group.”

Javier’s eyebrows rise together at your bold request. While Padmé blushes bright red next to you. Obi Wan is smirking as he looks at your two best friends. Anakin on the other hand, is frowning. You have no idea why though.

“Is that the dare?” He hesitates.

“Yep,” you smile brightly. 

“You sure?” He questions again.

You sigh heavily. “Javier, you’re the one that wanted to play this game.” 

He gulps before he looks down at the brown haired girl who sits in between the two of you. He moves closer to Padmé, cupping her cheek. “Is this okay?” Javier checks in with her. 

Padmé nods her head shyly but without any hesitation. He says something under his breath that you can’t seem to catch before his lips connect with hers in a gentle kiss. Her arms move instantly, as she wraps them around his neck. 

You whistle as the kiss between them gets a bit more deeper. Eventually they pull away as they gasp for air. Their foreheads are touching as they look at each other with small satisfied smiles. 

“Finally.” You clap your hands as you smile with so much happiness, because your friends finally made a move on each other. You might’ve pushed them into the right direction, but you’re happy that they are showing their affection for each other now.

“You’re dangerous, girl.” Padmé laughs as she turns her head to look at you. But she looks truly thankful for what you did.

“Just doing God’s work.” You say with feigned innocence as you shrug. 

“Before we continue, who wants another drink?” Obi Wan asks the rest of you as he stands up from his seat.

“Me!” You say a bit too quickly and loudly as you stand up from your seat, adjusting your dress as it rides up.

Obi Wan chuckles. He asks the rest of the group what they want as you write down everything down on your notes app so you don’t forget. 

Once you have the orders down, you both make your way to the bar. You feel a pair of eyes on you as you walk away. A chill goes down your spine as you have a feeling who is looking at you. In fact you know you don’t have to turn your head to know that it’s most likely Anakin.

As you reach the bar, you lean over it and try to get one of the bartender's attention. It’s a bit busy, three other people are trying to order at the same time. One of them gives you a nod of acknowledgement, before he comes down to where you two are. Once he takes your order and you’ve paid for it, and leaves, Obi Wan clears his throat.

You raise your head, to look at him expectantly. “Hmm?”

“You know, I’m aware of how frustrated you are that Anakin got the assistant manager position and that you didn’t.” He says carefully. “They picked him because they felt like he was the most qualified.”

You feel slight irritation but mostly embarrassment bubbling up inside you at his words. As you’re about to open your mouth he continues.

“But I feel as if I am inclined to tell you this though.” He starts, “Anakin had a lot of other proposals from other workplaces for summer, other than Aquasplash. A lot of better ones actually. But still, he decided to take on this one.” 

Your mouth drops slightly at the new information. Why would he want to come back every year if he had better places to work at. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone knows that Anakin is insanely smart and talented. Plus, why would he travel so far just to work at a place every summer with a person like you. Someone that’s been rude to him most of the time. 

“Why?” You frown.

“Why do you think so?” He asks with a small smile. 

You laugh, still puzzled as you shake your head “I don’t know?”

“Sure,” he says as he gives you a look.

Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed as you think about all the moments where Anakin’s always been nice to you, even when you’re nothing but an asshole to him. The way he always tries to catch your attention. Trying to make you laugh. Or the way he loves to spend time with you even if you’re being mean to him. How playful he is. How he loves to tease you or how he seems to only have eyes for you lately. For years actually. Or when his smile would either brighten or soften whenever you enter the room or space he’s in. Or the longing looks he would give you sometimes. 

No. You must be imagining things. 

Your eyes widen as you look at Obi Wan again. You search for a reaction that tells you that you’re wrong. But he just smiles at you knowingly.

You don’t know how or why your feelings for Anakin seem to have shifted so much, all you know is that any trace of hatred you had towards him has disappeared, wiped away to make room for something else. Deep down, you know that this was all just a facade. You’re never truly angry with him. You never disliked him. It was all an act to protect how you always truly cared for or liked him. The feelings you so desperately tried to push away, a feeling that could only be described by a four lettered word. A feeling that might have been around for a long while.

And you’re sure you ruined everything, because you’re such an asshole. 

Suddenly you feel a tightness in your chest. Your breath is turning shallow and ragged and you hear your ears start ringing. It feels as if the sky could be falling down on you any second.

Concern flashes through Obi Wan’s face as he notices a shift in your behaviour.

“Are you okay?”

“I—” you try to speak. “I-I need to go. I’m sorry.” You say hurriedly before you walk away as fast as you can, in need for a moment to be alone.

“Hey, wait,” he calls your name out.

You don’t know why you always feel like running away whenever you’re confronted with something big like your feelings but you know you can’t look or speak to anyone at the moment.

You desperately need to be alone even if it is just for a little while. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You don’t know how, but somehow, you ended up at the beach. The moment you leave the building your phone has been vibrating non stop, not reducing your anxiety at all. So once you sit down on the sand you put your phone on silent after sending one message to Padmé that you’re safe, ignoring all the other texts and missed calls. 

You didn’t stray that far from the bar, which isn’t that far from the coast, only a couple of hundred metres.

Your mind starts to wander back to Anakin, the man that you so desperately tried to dislike for years. Which was all a facade for how you truly feel.

You think about how the fact that the one person that you’ve ever fallen in love with deserves better than someone like you that has been mean to him for years all because of something so stupid. 

You wish you could go back in time, so you never held a grudge in the first place. So you could actually allow yourself to enjoy being around him, to think of him. 

You groan as you feel tears well in your eyes again as the thoughts consume you almost completely. 

“Things will be okay,” you whisper to yourself as you try to regulate your breathing while also mentally calming yourself down. 

You decide to focus on the sea.

Looking at the sea somehow never fails to calm you down, the sound of the body of water grounds you. As you watch the waves crash every time they hit the shore, you feel your anxiety gradually dying down.

You dig your bare feet in the sand, your heels long forgotten as they sit next to you. At the moment you don’t really care that you'll be covered in sand by the time you leave. The beach, specifically this one, brings you so much nostalgia. 

Brings you back to when you were a child.

You briefly close your eyes as you inhale the smell of the sea, exhaling a couple of moments later, releasing a bit of anxiety at the motion. You smile as you feel your body gradually relaxing as more tension dissipates, finally feeling a bit more at peace.

A couple of moments later after you feel your anxiety die down, you feel someone’s presence as they come to sit next to you. 

Unhurriedly you open your eyes again before turning your head slowly. Your eyes widen as you acknowledge who is sitting next to you. As your eyes meet Anakin’s you notice that he is already staring down at you. He’s looking at you with so much concern and an emotion that looks so tender. There’s a flicker of yearning flitting through his eyes as he continues to regard you.

Your bottom lip starts wobbling as you squeeze your eyes shut as you desperately try not to cry. 

“I’m so sorry.” You finally break the silence as tears well in your eyes again as you look at him.

“Hey, shhh sweetheart, there’s no need to apologise.” He whispers as one of his hands comes to squeeze your shoulder. His touch sparks a warmth in your body, just like he did earlier that day.

“Yes there is.” You whisper as you look away, your tears falling freely now. 

“Look at me angel,” he says softly. 

He is so caring and gentle with you, you feel awful, you don’t deserve that after being so horrible with him.

“No, I’m serious,” you say as you try to wipe your tears away. “I’m so sorry for being mean to you.”

You’re crying more now, the tears streaming down your cheeks constantly, your make up leaving some tracks because of it. 

“Sweet girl,” He says as his hands come to cup your face, holding you so tenderly, as his thumbs swipe at the tears that fall from your eyes. Your sad eyes look at him as he tries to comfort you. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you. All because of something as stupid as a job position.” You whisper as you continue to cry.

“Princess, are you upset because of that?” 

“Yeah, it’s so stupid.” You nod, as you keep sobbing. “I feel so stupid. I’ve never really disliked you, it was all just bullshit. A fucking facade. And for so long I believed I didn’t like you. It’s so fucking stupid.”

“Shhh, I’m telling you right now, It’s okay, you’re not stupid. I know you feel that way right now but you’re not stupid at all. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I am not upset or angry with you, I don’t think I could.” He says as he quickly moves to wrap his arms around you, bringing you closer to him. “I’ve got you, love.”

Every time your body shakes, he holds you tighter. Eventually pulling you into his lap, as you cling to him, your hands holding onto his shirt as if you are afraid that he’d disappear. His face is buried in your hair, yours against his chest as he holds you close.

One of his hands moves to caress your head softly, as the other holds your body close to him. As his fingers continue to caress your head you find yourself being comforted by it, your sobs eventually dying down as you feel yourself relax and calm down while hugging him. 

His embrace soothes you. Anakin is truly such a  comforting person, you could hold him forever.

You slowly pull away from his chest after you’ve completely calmed down, enough to look up at him. As you stare into his eyes, you feel yourself get lost in them. He is truly, so beautiful. 

Before you realise what you’re doing, you raise one of your hands to his cheek. He closes his eyes momentarily at your touch, relishing it. Once he opens his eyes again, he watches you intently, his cheeks flushing red. You feel his heart racing while your other hand rests on his chest still. 

“Anakin,” you whisper, looking shyly up at him.

He smiles at that. “I will never get tired of you saying my name.”

“Well, I haven't really said it much.” You bite your lip as you try to keep yourself from smiling. Of course, it’s not successful.

“True, but still.” He chuckles, “I will always enjoy you saying it.”

“Hm,” you hum as your eyes shift to his lips every few seconds, “I have something to confess.”

You need to confess your feelings to him. You’ve been hiding them for years, even from yourself, now it was enough. You need him to know, even if he doesn’t feel the same way, even if you misunderstood the whole thing. He deserves the truth.

“Go ahead,” he says as his eyes bore into yours, the intensity making you unable to look away. You’re both breathing in each other's air at the moment. You feel as if you’re being pulled by a magnet, your face slowly moving closer to his.

You feel your body get overwhelmed with warmth, as you mentally prepare yourself to tell him how you feel.

“I’m in love with you,” you say nervously, your confession barely above a whisper. Time stands still in that moment, your faces only a few inches apart, his arms still holding you tight against him, one of your hands resting on his cheek and the other still on his heart. “I think I always have.”

His breath hitches at your words, leaving him momentarily speechless. He looks as if he’s processing the words. Anakin leans in then, slowly, watching for you to pull back or show any other sign of not wanting him close. 

He leans in until his forehead touches yours, and you hold in a sigh at the thought of him being so close to you, the heat of his skin radiating off of him, his scent intoxicating you and filling your senses. 

The tip of his nose nuzzles yours, his warm breath kissing your lips, less than a few centimetres away now, and you move your thumb on his cheek, stroking his skin.

“I love you baby,” he whispers, making you still your movement on his cheek as you look at him with wide eyes. Heat spreads throughout your body and your heart flutters at his words, your cheeks feeling hot. “You have no idea how much I do.” 

“I love you too, Ani.” You say shyly. The moment his nickname leaves your lips, his mouth is on yours.

He kisses you with so much passion, pouring all his affection into the kiss as he holds you tightly. The kiss reflects how much he cares and loves you. 

You gasp into his mouth, feeling him as he moves his lips with yours and pulls your body somehow impossibly closer to his, as if he’s not satisfied enough, needing you as close as you physically can. He groans into you, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, and you open your mouth for him when you feel his tongue tracing your lower lip and licking into your mouth.

He moves one of his hands to come to cup your cheek as the other keeps you close, pressing you against him. He tilts his head as you moan into the kiss, deepening it.

He feels and tastes amazing, his touches feel heavenly, just perfect. You know that you will get addicted to him quickly. 

Nevermind, you already are.

He moans into the kiss, completely losing himself to the feeling, his warm tongue swirls in your mouth as his soft lips still move with yours. He is better than you ever imagined, his big hands gentle yet firm, his kisses overwhelming you. 

You feel the temperature rising between you two. Eventually you have to pull away as you gasp for air. Your forehead rests against his as you both breathe in some fresh air. 

His lips then move to your jaw, travelling all over as he presses soft kisses.  “Do you want to go back?” He whispers as he nuzzles his head against your neck. 

“No, I’d rather stay here all night with you.” You giggle as he then resumes to pepper kisses on your skin. As his kisses become more intimate, moving from your jaw to your neck, your giggles soon turn into little whimpers and moans. 

“Good,” he whispers, his voice sounding much deeper than earlier, before his mouth moves up, his lips trailing towards yours to envelop them in another kiss. 

Reuniting your mouths, Anakin kisses you deeply, his hands busying themselves with tracing your body above your clothes. You can feel one of them slowly going down beneath your arms, softly grasping at your hips and down your legs, on the way back up finding themselves beneath the dress you are wearing.

You move your hips against him instinctively, without a thought, grinding down on him, which makes him pull away with a groan. 

He moves back just enough to press his forehead to yours again. The two of you breathe in each other’s exhales, lips still almost touching as he finally speaks.

“Baby girl, you’ll be the death of me.” He rasps.

You feel your body flush with warmth at his words. Heat pools in your lower body. You bite your lip before giggling, you start peppering his cheeks, jaw and neck with kisses as you grind your hips against him again. 

His hands come to hold your hips, halting your movements. You whine as he holds you back, pouting up at him.

“Oh princess, don’t be like that.” He looks at you pointedly.

“But—”

“I’d love to continue whatever is happening right now, but not here.” He whispers the last part. 

You bite your lip as you try to hide your smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief. Your hands come to tug at the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to you. “Then take me home big boy.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You both stumble into your apartment once you unlock the door after the fourth attempt. It’s hard to unlock anything when someone as hot as Anakin, or an amazing kisser like him, keeps distracting you with kisses. 

You giggle against his lips as you finally kick your heels off. Your feet are eternally grateful once you’re out of them. You sigh with relief as you feel your body relax instantly. 

“Man, I hate sand.” He laughs as he also kicks off his own shoes. 

You chuckle at his words, “Of course you do.”

When Anakin moves his body to meet you again he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. You borrow your head against his chest, nuzzling against his shirt. You’re certain that soon you’ll get addicted to his affection, as if you want him to drown you in it.

“I love you so much,” you whisper against him.

Anakin, pulls away just enough to look down on you. One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, his touch so gentle.

“Will you say it again, sweetheart?” He pleads as he looks at you with adoration. “I just need to hear it again, please.”

You smile warmly up at him, before you stand slightly on the tip of your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, Anakin.”

Anakin traces your face with his fingertips. Pushing the loose strands of your hair out of your face, he leans down to press a gentle kiss on your lips. Pulling back just as fast as he kissed you, “I love you too.”

He laughs as you chase his lips instantly. 

“You’re laughing at me?” You gasp, feigning shock. 

“No, sweetheart.” You pout up at him as he continues to chuckle.

“Yes you are.” You pull away from his touch with a dramatic huff.

“Come on baby, you know I wouldn’t.” 

“Oh do I?” You say as you pretend to think about it for a second. 

He laughs again, as his arms come to wrap your body close to his once again. You feel yourself melt in his embrace, feeling safe and at home.

As much as you love being hugged, you crave more. 

“Ani?” you whisper. He pulls away just slightly.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He says as he grasps your hands and kisses your knuckles, heat enveloping you instantly. You feel your body get all warm and mushy at the affection.

“I… want you.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He halts his movements at your words, his eyes searching yours. “You want me?” He smiles softly down at you. 

“Please,” you beg as you lean up to trace your lips with his, “I want and need you. I’ve always wanted you.” You press your lips against the corner of his mouth and you wrap your arms around his neck. You look deeply into his eyes, as you continue. “It’s always been you,  Ani. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. My heart has always belonged to you.”

The moment the words leave your lips, his eyes are glazed over, clouded with lust as he no longer holds himself back. His lips envelop yours in a loving but lustful kiss.

His mouth moves, slow and oh so passionate. Anakin kisses you like he has all the time in the world. You love the feel of his lips on yours, you could kiss Anakin all day. So soft and yet so full of passion. He tilts his head a millimetre to fit against you better and you unconsciously perk up on your toes to reach more of him.

You part your lips slightly to catch your breath, inhaling slowly as you taste him and only him. His tongue sweeps across your lips making you whimper. His wet muscle wraps itself against yours a moment later, hot and wet and steady as he tastes your mouth and kisses you deeply.

More warmth pools between your thighs as you continue to kiss each other while your hands wander all over each other. You’re quite certain that your lacy underwear is ruined by now.

Your tongues slowly swirl and dance against each other as your hands try to find purchase on his arms. You feel your core clench around nothing and become even more wet as both of his hands travel from your waist to your ass, squeezing it in his hands and pushing your body closer to him. 

“I’ve loved you for so long.” He whispers against your lips, his hands moving up to hold you. “Sweetheart, you’re my everything.”

You feel drowsy and hot all over, your mind all over the place, your heart beating insanely fast. You’re breathless and Anakin laughs softly as he takes in your state. You need this man so bad.

His mouth trails down your neck, pressing wet open mouthed kisses all over your skin, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Ani,” you whine as you subconsciously rub your thighs together.

“I got you, kitten.” He whispers in your ear. You whimper at the pet name while he moves one of his  legs, sliding between your legs. You mewl as he presses his jeans-covered thigh against your covered heat which has you clinging onto him.

“P-please, I—” you stutter.

His hands move to your hips, guiding your body to move against him. The friction against your pussy has you moaning and you start to rub yourself against it.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He groans as he feels the wetness seeping through the fabric.

Anakin lifts his head and your eyes catch his, his lips finding yours in a rough kiss, not wasting any time as he slips his tongue past your lips. Your body is trembling as he devours your mouth and continues to guide your movements. The man of your dreams is wrapped around you completely, a hand tracing your back, the other holding your hips.

“Pleaaase, need more.” You whine against his mouth, “I need you.”

Suddenly, he lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around him instinctively. The passionate kisses don’t stop as he carries you and looks for your bedroom. Once he reaches your bed he places you gently down the sheets.

The bed dips before he hovers over you. He looks at you intensely as his hands move to your thighs, spreading them so he can fit between them. You whimper against his lips as his fingertips trace the skin of your thighs.

“Anakin, wait.” You say nervously. 

He stops his movements instantly, as he looks at you with concern. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

“Nothings wrong Ani,” you nibble at your bottom lip as you look at him. “I just, I’ve never done this before. Being intimate, I mean. I want you, I do, I just wanted to let you know.”

“Sweet girl,” he whispers as he looks at you tenderly, with so much love. “Baby, that’s okay. Don’t you worry about that. I will take good care of you.” 

A small smile forms on your lips at his words, and you nod. Anakin leans down, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. Your body relaxes completely at the action. His lips move, all over your face, placing soft kisses on every piece of skin. 

“Ani,” you giggle before chasing his lips. As your lips connect with his again, your arms wrap around his neck, your hands tangled in his hair. His lips are so soft and swollen. You’ve kissed each other so much tonight that you almost can’t feel your lips anymore. The kiss is like velvet against yours, and as his mouth moves, delicate and slow, you can’t help but sigh into the kiss.

All you can taste, all you can feel, all you can see, all you can think about is him.

Lust coursing through your bloodstream, you detach your lips from his, moving to pepper kisses along the sharp outline of his jaw, your lips tracing the edge. Instantly, Anakin’s hands drop to your thighs again, his hands tracing the skin then moves higher underneath your dress, towards your ass before pulling you flush against him. You writhe underneath him, your lower abdomen squirming against the outline of his growing bulge.

Your mouth parts, as you keep grinding against him, as breathy moans leave your lips. 

Anakin sits up, quickly removing his shirt, discarding it somewhere in your room. Then moves back closer. He dips his head down, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his soft lips tenderly roaming over the skin. 

“A-Ani,” you stutteringly whimper, your eyes rolling back when he playfully nips your skin. He presses open mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot just below your ear before sucking harshly. Responsively, you mewl. More wetness pools at your core, growing more wet as he takes care of you.

You sigh under him, “I want you,” you mumble quietly.

Anakin runs his nose down the column of your throat before tracing the shape of your collarbone. When he reaches the crook of your neck again, he bites down softly, making you whimper out his name. Lazily, he flicks out his tongue, the wet muscle gliding soothingly over your stinging flesh. He pulls away just a bit as he mutters “I want you too, baby girl.”

“Then do it, take me.” You groan almost impatiently.

Cupping his chin, you pull him in for another kiss, desperately needing to feel his lips against yours once again. He dips his head down almost automatically, as he chases your own, he slides his tongue inside your mouth and you react instantly, gliding yours against his.

Feverishly, your hands begin roaming over each other, hot lust clouding your minds as your kiss grows fervent with desire. You move your hips desperately as you moan against his lips, hoping that he will get the hint. 

“So needy,” he groans against your mouth.

Anakin’s large palms push under the hem of your dress and over your bare thigh under he reaches the junction between your thighs. Unhesitatingly, he presses his hand to your covered folds, and the sudden touch has you breaking your kiss with a strangled cry.

Soft whines spill from your lips, you grind into his hand unconsciously, your walls clenching as you feel him softly stroke your folds over the fabric. The wetness between your thighs is uncomfortable. As he rubs your throbbing clit, you feel your hips stutter at the action. He groans as he feels more wetness at your entrance.

“Such a wet pussy, is this all for me angel?”

You nod frantically, but Anakin doesn’t seem satisfied enough.

“Come on, be a good girl and use your words.” He taunts with a smirk.

“Yes, all yours.” You manage to whimper, your voice sounding strangled and pathetic, as he applies pressure on your clit. “Only yours.”

“That’s my good girl,” he says with a grin. His fingertips find the hem of your dress and you sit up slightly. You raise your arms quickly to help him get rid of your dress.

You feel your body tremble in anticipation, as his eyes roam all over your half naked body, his eyes not being able to stick to one place. Growing wetter under his heavy stare, your inner walls clench around nothing. You feel your heart picking up as his hands reach for your hips, holding them and pressing your body closer to his once again.

“So beautiful.” He whispers as his hands trace your skin.

His lips then crash against yours as you gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing, and take it upon yourself to guide his hand back down to your pussy, this time underneath your panties. His mouth leaves yours to unleash a heavy groan into your neck at the first slip of his fingers between your wet lips.

“You’re so fucking wet, kitten.” Anakin groans as he drops his head to your shoulder, as he runs his soft lips over your flesh, peppering kisses onto your skin. 

His lips trail slowly down to your neck, all the way to your chest. Anakin breathes in through his nose, a flash of heat warms you up at his words and you shiver when he exhales warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “You’re a fucking goddess.”

That’s all he says before he wraps his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucks and licks passionately, then he pushes one of his fingers inside your pussy. 

The slight stretch causes your walls to contract, and as he pushes further into you, your cunt practically swallows the length. Feeling you grip his finger, he detaches his lips from your breast.

“Fuck— such a tight pussy,” he hisses. “I’ve dreamt of what your pussy would feel like, but I never thought it’d be this good,”

Your soft noises of ecstasy become louder as the pleasure overwhelms you. His tongue starts licking again, long licks with the flat of his tongue over your hard nipple as his other hand keeps pumping his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace. His tongue swirls around your nipple, tracing its outline over and over again, while he simultaneously suckles at it.

You whine as your core starts clenching around his finger, begging for more. Instinctively you begin moving your hips, grinding against his hand, as he groans against your skin. Anakin’s lips leave your breast with a wet pop and he looks at you intensely as he continues to fuck you with his finger. You are panting heavily, barely able to think straight as he slowly slips another finger inside you. With each movement, you feel your entrance open and close, your eyes rolling back at the sensation.

“Ah fuck, daddy.” You whimper in a daze, not realising what spilled from your lips.

He groans and moves his face back up, to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.

“Good kitty, doing so well for daddy.” He pants against your lips.

Your breath hitches at his words, bucking your hips up towards his hand in response, silently begging for more. Of course he notices and slips a third finger in, moving them slowly at first as your tight pussy tries to adjust to the addition. 

Little whimpers leave your lips as he fucks you slowly with his fingers. You feel so full, you can’t help but imagine him fucking you with his cock, knowing that he’s probably massive. His pace eventually speeds up as you move your hips along with his movements. His lips move back to kiss you, as you whine against his mouth. Your hands clutch his shoulders as you move along with the pace of his fingers, feeling him curl them and spread them.

“Does that feel good, baby girl?” Anakin moans at the moment he connects his thumb with your little pulsing clit. “My love, do you love it when I play with your little pussy?” He rubs your bundle of nerves at the same pace as he fucks your tight walls. You buck your hips, moaning as you nod at his words. “Use your words, kitten.” He tuts.

You writhe against the sheets as you mewl. “Fuck! Yes, please, please, Ani. It feels so good.”

Anakin leans his head back down, trapping your lips in yet another heated kiss. Instinctively, you feel your legs spread even more open for him as you feel yourself get close to your first orgasm of the night. His tongue slips easily into your mouth after another gasp falls from your lips. You can’t help but moan, whine and whimper as he continues to pleasure you. Your hands wander to the back of his head pulling at his hair softly making him moan into your mouth.

“F-fuck, I need you so bad.” He groans as his thumb applies more pressure on your little nub. He curls his fingers forward with every penetration until your thighs shake.

His eyes stare into yours, lust and adoration written all over them. Once he fastens his motions inside you again, you moan and squeeze your eyes shut. A burning intense feeling, a tight coil in your lower abdomen makes you arch your back beneath him.

“Come for me, my baby.”

You open your eyes slowly, locking eyes with him. His intense gaze is what it takes for you to come undone. The hot feeling spreads all over your body, your body tingling, your hips moving at their own accord against Anakin’s hand as you gasp loudly.

“Doing so well for me princess,” he says proudly, smiling as his fingers slow as you come down from your high. 

As you come back to your senses, you feel his fingers slip away from your heat. You feel your pussy clench around nothing every now and there, your wetness dripping down the sheets, which makes you whimper helplessly.

Anakin climbs off the bed, as he makes quick work to remove all of his clothing. You are still in a daze, closing your eyes for a moment.

Once he removes the rest of his clothes, you feel him move back up to you. He leans down, roving his lips down to your neck, licking and sucking, as his hands cup your sensitive breasts, massing them in his hands. You whimper, it’s too much, everything is too much. You feel so hot as Anakin litters soft kisses down your shoulders to your chest. Your hands find his head once again, running your fingers through his hair as he breathes onto one of your nipples.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He says softly against your skin.

Anakin’s lips move slowly down your body, kissing every little place he can find on your skin while he pushes your body back against the bed. His lips travel all the way down to your hips making you whine and beg silently for more.

A mischievous smile plays on Anakin’s lips as he looks up at you through his eyelashes. “You smell so good, I am sure you taste just as good, if not better.” He groans before taking your underwear between his teeth, while pulling it off your legs slowly. Your mouth hangs open as you watch him, truly speechless someone could make this look so hot. Anakin keeps looking at you as he slides down your body, pulling it off you when it reaches your ankles.

Once he pushes your legs wide for him, you whimper as the air hits your wet slit. Anakin smiles as he kisses all the way up to your leg, taking his sweet time to give your body the attention you need. He presses soft kisses from your ankles up to your knees, his hands move along with his mouth, caressing the insides of your thighs as he gradually moves up your legs.

His lips linger on your thighs, licking and sucking some kisses on your soft skin, Anakin’s lips are so close to where you need him the most yet he feels so far away.

“P-please Ani, baby, I need you…” you practically beg, so desperate for him to finally give you what you desperately want.

“I love it when you beg for me kitten,” he whispers against the flesh of your thigh before his lips move higher making your breath hitch. His fingers move to spread your outer lips for him, Anakin smirks as he slides two fingers inside of you, watching the way your body squirms at the sensation, and you moan against the pillow next to you trying to muffle yourself.

“Mmmm you’re so wet for me baby girl, you’re literally dripping on my fingers,” he says before he presses some kisses on your pubic bone, making you buck your hips in response. “Easy, kitty, we have all night.”

“God, d-daddy… please move your fingers or anything. I just. I need you so baaa—” your whining gets cut off once you feel his lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, coaxing a loud but broken moan from your throat. “F-fuck!”

You feel like screaming, you don’t know what to do with your hands, feeling so lost and overwhelmed with the pleasure Anakin’s giving you already. He dives between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance along with his fingers before he travels up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet appendage and sucking your button into his mouth.

You feel your body trembling terribly. You need more. You try to grind your wetness slowly against his lips as your body continues to shake.

Strong arms are suddenly locked around your thighs, securing your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his lips.

You grab a random pillow as you hold it against your face to muffle your loud noises while your hips move along with the pace of his fingers. A moment later you feel him grab the pillow and remove it from your face, you whine as he drops it next to your body.

“I want to hear you, my sweet girl, don’t hide your pretty face and moans from me.” He says against your wetness as he curls his fingers inside you, playing with the sensitive spot inside you.

“A-ah, Ani, daddy please. I-I need more.” You moan desperately underneath him. You are squirming, it is so good you can barely even figure out what he is doing with his tongue.

Anakin slowly removes his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss. He chuckles against you, heat spreading all over your body at the action. His tongue is lapping at your lower lips. Loud incoherent noises come out from your throat. You’re squirming at the feel of his tongue moving around your entrance and Anakin just sighs like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing than this right now, eating you out in your bed, and it feels so so good.

Slipping his tongue finally into your entrance, he curls the muscle upward to brush your walls, you practically scream at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed. Your head swims from his ministrations. Moaning and whining, you continue to writhe underneath him. You can feel the tight coil in your stomach, ready to snap.

“P-please, please. Ani, I’m so c-close.” You squeak when he starts thrusting his tongue in and out of you just like his fingers that had been doing it earlier before, your body trembling as you try to grind your hips into his mouth as you repeatedly whine his name.

“Come on baby, come for me,” Anakin says against your pussy before plunging his tongue back inside. Your trembling hands reach for his head, tugging lightly at his longer dark blonde strands, while moving your hips against his face, fucking yourself onto his tongue. As he applies pressure on your sensitive spot inside you with his tongue, you can feel his thumb circling your clit, making you see stars.

With a bit more pressure on your clit you come with a loud whine, your vision turning white and your ears ringing as you feel your movements against his face getting sloppier. 

The orgasm you’re experiencing feels so intense, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You feel your pussy gushing against his lips, feeling more wetness slipping out of your entrance as Anakin moans against your cunt. You take in some deep shaky breaths, trying to gasp for air as you come down from your high. Your body trembles heavily as you try to come back to your senses. 

You feel Anakin’s tongue still licking up your pussy as he retreats his fingers from your pulsing hole. His mouth feels heavenly, but you whine at the sensitivity. He moans as he licks against your tight hole, licking up your release, his tongue prodding your entrance again.

“‘S too much.” You whimper at the overstimulation.

Anakin ignores your pleas, moaning against your heat as he continues to eat you out. The man you adore so much between your legs keeps sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises of ecstasy spur him on, to move his lips back up to your clit. He sucks the nub softly between his lips. 

The walls of your pussy clench furiously, the empty feeling inside you intensifying with every lick, and as your wetness trickles out of you, your core practically begging to be filled.

You begin grinding your hips against his face as moans keep spilling off your lips. “You’re so sensitive, kitten.” He remarks as he presses a kiss to your clit. 

Eventually he leans down, slipping his tongue into your entrance again, he curls the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encourages him to do it again and again.

You are a mess of his name, you chant his name over and over again. As if his name is the only word that you know at the moment. Your hips move against his face as you continue to whimper and moan breathlessly underneath him. 

Writhing below him, you feel him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that has you seeing stars, while your hips buck against his face uncontrollably. Your fingers are once again gripping onto his dark blonde hair rather harshly and your hips push against his face to shove his tongue deeper into your hole.

“Please,” you beg. You’re so, so close. You just need a little bit more to climax.

“Come,” he whispers his demand against you, before plunging his tongue back inside you as his thumb comes up to press against your little bundle of nerves. You come with a loud whine, your hips stuttering as your vision turns white. You cry out his name, your voice unable to remain steady. Your fingers are tightly woven through Anakin’s hair and your hips push so far against his face, you think you are almost suffocating him.

As you slowly come down to reality again and you try to catch your breath, you hear him praising you softly while he continues to lap at your wetness gently, until you whine and nudge him away with your leg because the overstimulation is getting too much for you. Finally Anakin detaches his mouth from your pussy.

He quickly licks the wetness off his lips before he crawls back up to you with a smirk, to kiss you deeply, cupping your face in his hands. You moan at the taste of yourself against his tongue, your eyes fluttering against his skin while you kiss, your arms wrap around him to pull his body closer against yours. You sigh happily, against his mouth, you feel yourself melting in his embrace already. You can feel his soft mouth smiling against yours, as the kiss gets more heated.

“You did so good for me, baby. My good girl.” He whispers against you. 

You pull away to look down between your bodies. He’s incredibly long, insanely so, and somehow even thicker, its rigid girth intimidating against your body. His shaft throbs under your gaze and you can’t help but fixate on it, you swallow thickly at the sight of it, the walls of your cunt constricting around nothing.

You can’t help but wonder if it was even possible to fit inside you. 

His lips chase your own, as he envelops you into another sweet but deep kiss. “Care to share what you’re thinking?”

“H-how?” You say quietly as you stare at him.

Anakin chuckles and you can’t help but pout at the sound of his soft laughter. “Baby, I’m not making fun of you. I swear.” He reassures you quickly as his hand cups your cheek gently. “Don’t worry, it will fit.”

You can’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock. You’re whimpering and moaning as you move. It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh, baby,” Anakin groans, and it’s because he reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He keeps rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him, and back down. Every single time his tip rubs against your hole you tremble more. He loves the sounds you make as he spreads his precum around your slit, where you are still dripping for him.

“Please, daddy.” You gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You are still extremely wet, but the thought of him finally entering you with his big cock makes you wetter. Anakin swallows your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against yours. He kisses you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

His broad body covers your own smaller body with his. You can’t help but love how bigger and taller he is than you. You feel so small under his large body, but in a good way. You’ve always had a thing for much taller guys. You love how sexy he is; his deep voice, his big hands, his large, muscular, sweaty body. You love hearing him call you his baby, his princess, his love, all the loving names he comes up with for you. You love how he treats you, how he has always treated you. He makes you feel safe and so loved. 

You are trembling against him, filled with anticipation. You writhe against him, wishing he was just filling your pussy up already.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” He whispers as he looks deep into your eyes. “I’ll try to be as gentle and as slow as I can, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop and I will.” He promises you.

You whine and nod, not trusting your voice at the moment, as you rub your pussy against his dick.

“Fuck,” he moans, “I need you to use your words baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper breathlessly. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart, so much.”

He leans back down to kiss your lips again, he reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He rubs himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands leans down to spread your outer lips sliding his dick teasingly around your entrance. You arch your back slightly and whimper loudly out of frustration.

“P-please—” your whine gets cut off at the feel of him applying pressure at your tight hole.

Anakin slides the tip in such a slow way it is agonising. At first he struggles to enter the tight, unused walls of your virginal pussy. Your lips part with a cry. He is so careful, like he is afraid you might break. You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushes more of him inside you. 

You whine at the stretch of him. He is so huge. Your tight pussy clenches around him as it tries to accommodate his massive girth. He continues to push more of his cock inside you. He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves more inside, hoping that the distraction and the kisses will soften the sting.

“Fuck, how are you so tight.” Anakin moans against your mouth, almost undone by the tight embrace of your velvet walls around his cock.

His hips still once he hears your strangled gasp. “Wha— it’s not m-me. Ah, fuck. You’re just huge.”

“Do you think you can handle more?” He smiles tenderly as he looks down at you.

“M-more?” You stammer with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly.

“Please,” You flutter your eyes close and whine as you nod. You grip the bed sheets between your fingers as you beg him for more.

“Good girl,” he grunts softly. You think there isn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he utters those words you feel your heat get sopping wet. Your pussy continues to pulse and clench around his cock as he moves deeper inside you.

Once he bottoms out, you feel his tip kiss your cervix. Anakin lets his body rest against yours as he allows you to adjust to his size. You feel extremely full, as if he is made for you, and only you. A sudden feeling of completeness overtakes you, the sense of wholeness overwhelming you.

The feeling of him filling you up so completely has you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders. You feel one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them together as the other one reaches up to your face.

His breathing is heavy as you squeeze his cock constantly. Small whimpers spill from your lips as you squirm underneath him.

You need more.

You slowly open your eyes to look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Ani.”

“You need me to move baby?” He asks gently, as his thumb swipes over your bottom lip.

“Yes, please.” You beg as your pussy clenches around his thickness rather hard which makes him moan. “I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He nods before he starts moving slow and deep, one hand reaching down to play with your clit, while the other holds onto your hand tightly. The sting was hurting for a while, but it easily morphes into a more pleasurable feeling as he moves against you. 

He moans as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin just below it.

“Such a tight pussy,” he groans.

A loud noise like nothing you’ve ever made escapes your throat, a strange cry of his name.

Anakin’s entire weight is braced on one hand beside you, his other hand moving to rest on your back, under your body, as he pulls your chest into his. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he grinds his cock into you. The angle is so good, gradually he picks up his pace, leaving you a whimpering mess underneath him. Every time he thrusts into you, his pelvic bone drags along your throbbing clit, making you cry out his name in pure ecstasy.

“You’re taking me so well, kitten. Doing so so, good for me.” He whispers against your skin as he nuzzles his face against your neck.

You whimper as his lips move back up to your lips, enveloping them in a heated kiss. At a certain point you feel him slide into a pressure point in your core that has you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes roll to the back of your head from the pleasure he is giving you. Your legs shoot out, wrapping them around his hips, and your heels dig into the fleshy globes of Anakin’s ass, pulling him deeper into you.

“Feeling good my sweet girl?” He moans, a small smile forming on his lips as he watches your face contort in pure pleasure.

His mouth covers your own instead as he swallows all your little noises, you can feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tight, tight, tighter. Suddenly everything feels too much. It is just too much for you to handle.

He quickens his pace, his hips snapping up to yours to a fast tempo. “This pussy was made for this me, isn’t it, kitten?”

You can only moan his name repeatedly in response. His hands can’t seem to get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. Your arms wrap around him and your nails dig in his back making him groan. The feeling of the coil is tightening in your belly, tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he admires you, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “You look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, fuck— I bet you’d look so pretty full of my cum too.”

“Please…” you whimper at the thought of him filling you up with his cum. As your thoughts start to wander, things that you shouldn’t be thinking of yet, all because the thought of him filling you up with his cum has your thoughts going feral. It has you involuntarily clenching around him. (You try to store that fantasy for later.) “Please daddy, fill this pussy up.”

He groans as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

Fervently, the two of you rock into each other, chasing your own highs. You cling desperately to him, your arms holding onto his shoulders as you writhe together. You crave his kisses, needing to feel his lips on yours, you strain your neck and press your mouth to his. Instantly, his mouth opens, and your tongues begin moving against each other leisurely.

One of his hands slides between your body before you feel him stroke your clit. He rubs your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’d cum. Breaking from the kiss, you cry out against his lips, your breaths heavily intermingling together.

“You want to cum, sweetheart?” 

You nod frantically at his words with your eyes closed as you bite your lip harshly. “Please, f-fuck. Need it so bad.”

“Cum for me, baby,” Anakin urges. His command, paired with the way his fingers caress your clit, and how his cock drags against your sweet spot, has you at the brink of your climax.

Mouth falling open, your muscles strain as you choke out a cry of euphoria. Your whole body trembles, squirming underneath him as you come undone. You held his body closer to yours, your nails digging in his back, scratching it. Head lolling back, your back arches violently as you twist and contort in pleasure under him. 

Anakin groans in your ear as your walls spasm and pulse around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.

Feeling your pussy tighten in a vice-like grip, your inner walls gushing with wetness as you milk his shaft, Anakin moans deeply.

“Fuck,“ he moans, pushing himself up as he thrust deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “Going to fill this pussy up, until it’s full and messy.”

His own head falls onto your chest, and with a few more thrusts, he buries his cock as deep inside you as he can before he cums.

He moans loudly, as he comes inside you. The warmth of his seed fills you up and spreads within your walls. His warm cum fills you up deeply, the mild heat of it settling deep inside you and causing you to squirm under him. You whimper at the feel of his cum dripping out of you.

Once both of you catch your breaths, Anakin leans his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.

You feel him soften inside you, and as soon as you feel him move to pull out, you whine in protest wrapping your legs around him to prevent him from leaving you yet.

“Stay.” You whisper against his lips.

Anakin lets out a breathless chuckle at that.

“We need to clean you up.”

“Right now?” You whine again.

“Yeah,” he smiles as you pout. “How about this, I will clean you up and then we can cuddle as much as you want.”

“Will you stay?” You continue to pout.

“Yes, if my girl wants me to stay I will.” He smiles down at you, looking at you with so much love.

“Oh really?” You grin at him. “Am I your girl?”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Yes, of course. Who else?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it.” You giggle before you press a soft kiss at the corner of his lips.

“Yes, you’re mine. Just like I’m yours. Completely.” Then his head moves just slightly, to capture your lips in another deep and loving kiss. As you lose yourself in the kiss, you don’t really notice as he softly unhooks your legs from around him. Moments later he pulls out as gently as possible.

You whine in protest, your walls a little raw from his thick girth, and when he retreats completely, you can’t help but squirm. Instantly, his cum begins leaking out of you, causing you to mewl in pleasure, your entrance throbbing and only forcing more of his cum out. 

Anakin sits back on his heels, his eyes drop to your pussy, a low groan falls from his lips. Your legs are spread wide, and your pussy slightly gaping from where he’d fucked you open. But he’s more focused on how his cum leaks out of you, his seed dripping down your ass. Or how your pussy clenches around nothing every now and then. His chest swells with pride, and he can’t help but smile lazily.

Leaning forward, he presses one hand onto your inner thigh, while the other swipes two fingers between your slit, gathering up his cum, and pushing it back into you. You wince at the sensation, a low groan slipping from your throat at the sensitivity. He presses a kiss to your knee in apology after he pulls his hand away.

“Come on baby,” he chuckles as he moves off the bed, taking you along with him. You whine as you realise that you’ll have to come along with him, leaving your soft bed.

“What? I thought you were gonna clean me up?” You pout. Your legs wobble a bit, your body aching as he tugs you to the adjacent bathroom of your bedroom.

“I changed my mind.” He smiles cheekily.

You raise your brow at him, looking at him suspiciously as he guides them into her shower. 

“If you think that we’re gonna do anything but clean ourselves then you’re mistaken mister.” You poke his chest playfully.

“I know,” he winks before he turns the shower on. Immediately, water shoots from the shower head mounted to the wall, the spray wetting your arm. 

Once you’re both cleaned, which took a while because you did more than just clean; lots of kisses and touches were shared, both of you finally crawled back into bed. The night is filled with lots of talking, laughter, your kisses, cuddling, more noises of pleasure and all the love you both share for one another. You know that you’ll never get tired of loving Anakin, regardless of how new your romantic relationship is. And you know he feels the same way about you too. You’re tired of running away, tired of pushing your true feelings away. Finally allowing yourself to be truly happy with the love you have for the man that adores you just as much.

He’s your medicine.

[kamii-2]

hii so as yk i wanted to make an requesttt. i wanna know if you can do ice brady hc (maybe a lil spicy iykyk)

i chose ice brady because i honestly because she’s literally so underrated i see no fics abt her and i feel like i need some(desperately)

its ok if u cant do it know js take ur time mll💋💋

love u smm have a amazing day ❤️❤️

hi lovelyyy, i love this request and i agree, ice is super underrated (she’s so fine omfg)

warning(s): cussing, smut

genre: fluff & smut

pairing(s): ice brady x reader

==================================

always making dirty jokes

like that one live where kk, paige, snd ice were talking about height and kk says that her and nika were face to face and ice goes “mouth to mouth.” 😭😭

big and little spoon, depends on the day

you guys barely ever get into arguments so when you do it’s bad

shes the type to say stuff that purposely makes you mad

a bully 😭

definitely scream sings dirty songs ALL THE TIME

like she will be in the kitchen and youll be in the bedroom and all you hear is her screaming the lyrics to all i need by lloyd

calls you names all the time

“okay little ugly.” “you tell me the opposite every day.”

records you eating and posts it with the big back audio

now every time you eat you hide from her 💀

lowkey (highkey) slow as hell

loves to facetime you when you can’t come over and play roblox

falls asleep on the phone every time you guys call

LOVES taking showers with you (in cute ways and in dirty ways)

dramatic as fuck

my blurb about ice being sick is a great example of her being dramatic 😭😭

tells you that she loves you before bed every night

loves kisses and hugs

“one more kiss?” “i just gave you like 4.” “well it’s an uneven number so-“

kk and paige are always with you guys

they’ll all come to your dorm, go to your room, then go live 😭

ice is the type of person to say “do you wanna fight” every chance she gets

“no.” “do you wanna fight?” “let’s go then.” and you stand up and she starts screaming before your even do anything

takes absolutely nothing seriously

sends you tiktoks all day long

you guys make tiktoks together all the time

lazy and only does stuff if you give her things in return

“can you do the dishes?” “not unless i get something in return.” “like what?” “head.” “ice.”

posts you on her instagram story all the time

smut hcs

i don’t see her degrading you in bed, like making fun of you as a joke yea but never calling you a slut

she loves giving praises

telling you how good you’re doing and stuff like that

absolute clown

if you wear glasses and they fall off while you guys are fucking she will play around and put them on

same thing goes for lashes 😭 like if they fall off she jsut puts them on your body some where

and if you wear wigs and it comes off, guess what … she wears it

ice is definitely a switch

shower sex is 😩

she doesn’t really care for toys

you guys have a strap and vibrator but use them every once and a while

loves edging you and getting edged

def has a sex playlist

dirtiest of dirty talkers

like nobody has talked to you the way she does

takes pictures of you guys fucking and has an album in her phone full of them

fucking everywhere but the bedroom

car, bathroom, restaurant, anywhere

ice is always horny 😭 especially at night

sends dirty messages all day long

she also sends those red thoughts tiktok videos (pls tell me yk what im talking about)

she loves when you eat her out

her moans are actually angelic

thinks scissoring is too much work so she never does it 😭😭

when she uses the strap she doesn’t hold back

tells you have much she loves you as she fucks you

loves to make you squirt

==================================

i hope you enjoyed, anyway i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[superblysubpar]

We'll Call It Love masterlist | It Had To Be You masterlist

the song: Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer // It Had To Be You playlist

warnings: this story is a part of the series We’ll Call It Love, and much of it would be spoiled if you read this first. It’s linked above, and I hope you love it! | series warnings pertain | Steve's parents are DICKS | A little foreplay action, but no real smut warnings aside from a small ass slap - oh and a there if you squint breeding kink hint for one sir steve harrington

2.7k words

A/N: I've hoped you've liked the first two little stories before this and maybe you're catching on to the theme now? There's two more after this one, and I hope they wrap up things for this little world nicely for you. This one in particular, is what started the whole idea of this collection of stories randomly? Don't tell the others, it might be my favorite. There was a very real incident with myself and green paint and my husband finding me in the state similar to reader 😳, I have @loveshotzz and @sweetsweetjellybean to love always and thank for convincing me to make it into a little fic, which obviously turned into more 💛

He sees the familiar girl sitting alone at the bar, and he weaves his way around dimly lit tables and people dressed as fancy, if not more so, than he is. He slides onto the stool next to her, resisting the urge to run his hand through his gelled hair. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

Leigh waves off his apology with her perfectly manicured hand as she takes a sip of the martini in front of her. Rolling her eyes big with a smile around the rim. 

Steve raises two fingers to get the bartender’s attention from the end of the rich wood counter as she swallows. 

“I just figured you decided to not go through with it, was gonna give you another half hour before I called your dad to tattle on you.”

Steve’s stomach tenses, knuckles tapping the counter as he grimaces. 

Leigh’s hand rubs his shoulder, speaking softly, “Hey I was just kidding. What’s going on in that big, Harrington brain, huh?”

The bartender lays a cocktail napkin in front of Steve, nodding as he orders, raising three fingers, “Macallan.” Before he turns to look at her. 

Kind eyes and an understanding smile he blows out his breath and quietly asks, “You really want to do this?”

Leigh shrugs, her hand slipping from his shoulder to grab the martini again, taking another large gulp. 

“I’m still down if you are?”

Steve nods, fingers swiping down the glass that’s set in front of him as he stares into the amber liquid and thinks about you. 

“You sure? Last time I saw you at that benefit thing, you talked about moving to Northern California and working for that environmental law firm. You just…don’t seem like the kind of girl that wants to work for her dad forever and do…this?” 

He sort of gestures pathetically to himself which Leigh snorts at, pressing her palms to flushed cheeks. 

Steve closes his eyes, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean, I mean I know you, we did, like five years ago, but that-”

“Steve,” Leigh interrupts, laughing. 

“Sorry.” He rubs at his eyes, fingers freezing when she sighs. 

“So, who is she?”

Steve opens his eyes to see Leigh’s all knowing gaze and smirk and he folds almost instantly telling her your name. 

“We sort of had…a date? Last weekend? Except it wasn’t a date,” he sips on his drink, finishing the story of the two of you with the most recent events while Leigh sits and listens patiently. 

He shakes his head as something in his stomach sinks at the same time his heart starts beating harder when he thinks about last weekend.

“Because, we don’t date, or she doesn't want to date, and then we had sex, and like, good sex. I’ve never had that kind of sex, sex…like emotional? But I don’t think…I can’t wait for her to…choose me? Because what if she never does, right? Isn’t that the cardinal rule of dating? Don’t think you can change someone?”

He hates how much he’s talking, how much of his guts he’s literally just spilling all over the place, but he’s needed to talk about it for a long time, and he certainly can’t tell Robin. 

Leigh sips her martini thoughtfully before she asks, “Does she know about this?” She gestures between the two of them. 

Steve shakes his head, swallowing before he quietly admits, “Nobody does, well, no, I told Robin I was dating you. Because she kept pestering me about what was going on and I…”

He trails off, at a loss for words as Leigh hums. 

“Well, that’s problem number one right there buddy. It sounds like you’re asking her to open up and you’re keeping some things heavily guarded too.”

Leigh glances at her watch and hops off the stool, smiling, “I have that dinner with a client. And I think you have a lot of thinking to do tonight Steve Harrington. I’ll see you tomorrow, whatever you decide.”

She kisses his cheek and Steve turns towards his glass, downing the last of it as he pulls out his phone and opens your contact. 

Steve: Hey could we talk tonight? We could go out? Or I could come over? You: I’m sorry, I really want to but I’m sick. 

He stares down at the text back from you the whole ride up the elevator and down his hallway. Are you actually sick? Or are you avoiding him because last weekend scared you? 

His key turns in the lock too easily and he closes his eyes as he pushes open his already unlocked front door, taking a deep breath before he steps inside. 

John Harrington frowns at the bottle of Scotch in his hands, eyes narrowed at the bar in his son’s apartment. 

“Is this all you have?”

“Hey dad, long time no see. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”

His father rolls his eyes in an eerily familiar way and Steve turns to the cabinet above his fridge, and pulls down the bottle for his father. 

“Happy Birthday,” Steve grumbles.

John eagerly takes it, “Ah! Yes.”

Thank you son, you’re the greatest. No problem dad, glad you like it. 

His dad finally looks at him and frowns. “Is that what you wore for your drinks with Leigh?”

Steve looks down at his custom made and fitted three piece suit, tie, Italian loafers, leather belt, and cufflinks and a watch that all cost more than his college tuition. 

“I-”

“Your mom is hanging up the suit for tomorrow in your closet, why don’t you go let her pick out a better tie for din-”

Steve’s already power walking past his dad, hurriedly trying to make sure his mother is not in his closet, but it’s too late. 

The sliding door gives him an easy view of his mom, who’s holding the picture nobody really knows about. Steve looks over his shoulder and thankfully his father has sat himself down on the couch, turning on the news. 

Steve carefully and quietly closes the closet door behind him, whispering, “Mom, I can explain-”

“You went to college?” Her voice is hoarse as her fingers trail over the tassel and degree. 

He swallows, fingers curled into fists at his sides as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Yeah. I did.”

Vivian Harrington nods, and when she looks up at her son, he feels like she’s sort of seeing him for the first time in his life. 

Her eyes that match his are glassy, and her head tilts as if she’s taking in his features like she doesn’t really know him at all. Maybe she doesn’t. But it’s that look that gives him the courage to keep going.

“Can I have a rain check on dinner? There’s somewhere I need to be tonight. Someone I need to see.”

Maybe his mom sees something in his eyes, or hears it in his tone, but the way her eyes travel over his face, searching, it’s easy to see when understanding falls across her features.

“Sure, honey.” She puts the picture back down with a sad smile, her voice hesitant but forceful at the same time as she asks, “But we’ll see you tomorrow? For the brunch?”

He knows she’s not really asking and he nods.  

“Yeah, of course.”

So when it’s her name flashing across his phone when you wake him up, the guilt washes over him. He doesn’t know what to do. 

He locks his phone and closes his eyes, thinking about everything you told him last night. 

Thinking about how you said that nobody could have a love like them. That it’s a love story you witness once. How since then, you haven’t believed in it or even tried to. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta go, my parents are here and…” he sighs, touching his forehead to yours, willing you to just tell him right now. Willing himself to just take the leap. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Your fingers circle around his wrist as you whisper sleepily to him. 

He could spend his whole life waiting for you to never change your mind. 

Never really getting every part of you. Not the way he wants. 

As much as it hurts, as much it will keep hurting for a long time, he wants all of you, or nothing at all. 

Steve looks at your lips before he kisses them, trying to memorize how soft they are against his own. How it just seems to work. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you at the game later. I…” 

He groans as his phone buzzes in his pocket and he kisses you so quickly, too quickly, and then he’s gone. And he’s worried he’s never going to get to kiss you again. 

Steve answers the phone as he shuts your front door. “I’m sorry, I’ll be there in-”

“Did you get it out of your system?” 

Steve stops in the hallway, gulping, “What?”

“Did you get it out of your system?”

He bangs his forehead against the wall, fingers clenching around the vest and jacket he holds. Steve’s jaw is tense, stomach tight as he blinks away the damp feeling pooling in his eyes. 

“I don’t know.”

“Steven-”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up and walks to the stairwell. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do?

“Jesus fucking christ!” 

Your hand is over your heart, a brush dropped in the bucket of paint, and your boyfriend smiles from the other side of the makeshift dog gate. 

“Don’t do that!” You squeal, only half mad he almost scared you to literal death standing in the doorway all ominous, but overall you’re ecstatic to see him, your heart racing faster than it should for both reasons. You turn down the music you were blaring and singing along to loudly so he can hear you. “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home till Monday!”

Steve’s looking at you from the other side of the gate with this intense look that makes an entire box of bouncy balls dump out inside of your stomach. 

“What?” You ask nervously, looking around the room that’s half painted and back at him as you take a few steps towards the doorway.

He seems to visibly shake a thought from his brain, his cheeks turning pink as he clears his throat. 

“Nothing, I, uh, like the color.” 

Your body fills with heat as you take a few steps closer to him, both of you staring up and down each other’s bodies a little hungry, a little impatiently. 

“Yeah?” You’d be embarrassed by how soft and girly your question comes out except Steve is clearly thinking and feeling things, his fingers curling around the doorframe a little tighter with each step you take, which only spurs you on to tack on, “I know you said the office could be whatever color, and when I was standing in front of the paint samples, this one spoke to me. Made me think about a shirt this guy I really like wears.”

“Oh?” He asks, fingers reaching forward so his thumb can brush across your cheek. It feels a little rough and you’re certain he’s tracing over paint you somehow managed to get on your face. 

You hum, stomach warm from the feeling of his skin touching yours after so long apart. Your eyes greedily take in the scruff on his jaw that he’s let grow and the deeper tan his skin has. The numerous new freckles you swear he didn’t have when he left. Your mouth waters a little bit as your eyes wander to his covered up arms and shoulders, impatient to find out how many more there are.  

“It’s kind of like the olives he hates on his pizza too.”

Steve’s fingers roam down your neck, thumb dragging on the chain hidden under his white shirt. 

“Sounds like a smart guy for hating those disgusting things,” he softly banters. 

“Mm, debatable. It’s also kind of like the green in his eyes.”

Your body leans over the gate, closer to him, fingers reaching for the collar of his shirt till your noses bump each other’s. It’s hard to breathe, when all you can smell is cedar and mint and practically taste the coffee on his lips he must have been drinking to stay awake.

“Well, he sounds like quite a guy, to inspire a whole room’s paint color.” Steve speaks slowly, one hand around the back of your neck, the other dragging down the curves of your side as you both breathe sharply, the small space between your mouths electric. 

“He’s okay,” you offer with a shrug. 

“I like the overalls,” Steve ignores you, nose running down the bridge of yours as he nudges closer.

“Thanks, they were my mom’s when she was pregnant with me.”

Steve’s eyes flash from that comment, his adams apple bobbing in a loud and harsh swallow. 

“Oh?”

You giggle, your top lip hitting his in a brief pass and it’s intoxicating. 

“Easy tiger. Not in the cards just yet.”

“But it is, someday?” He squeezes at your waist, bottom lip just barely bumping between yours, his head tilting just barely to get a better angle. 

“Sure. Play those cards right and when the time comes…”

Steve’s lips slot over yours, his hands pull at the back of your neck and waist until you’re both pressed up against the gate. 

His tongue swipes over your bottom lip lightly, teasing, as his fingers brush down your jaw and he breaks away from you, breathing heavily. 

“I missed you so much.”

“You’re never leaving for that long again.”

You both laugh into another kiss as you speak at the same time. Refusing to part your mouths as you try to climb over the gate causing it and both of you to clatter to the ground. Inigo comes racing from the bedroom where he was sleeping. 

He runs at Steve, panting happily and jumping onto his chest from your tangled pile on the ground. 

“Hey buddy, I missed you too,” Steve laughs, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to dodge the lab’s tongue. 

“Dude, he is my boyfriend. Also you’re such a traitor, you never greet me like this.”

“Are you talking to me or the dog?” Steve laughs as Inigo wiggles and yips on his stomach when you push yourself up to standing. 

“Where are you going?” He calls after you.

“To get the peanut butter kong so he’ll be busy for hou-Steve!”

He’s snaked his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest forcefully. His mouth attacks your neck and cheeks and jaw from behind. Hot and wet open mouthed kisses you giggle at which only makes him do it more. 

Steve squeezes his arms around you, holding your ass tighter against his clearly worked up lower half as you stumble towards the freezer with him behind you still. Inigo makes it all the more difficult as he races around your legs. 

“Steve, babe…” you moan as his mouth slows down, warm lips pressing right behind your ear as his fingers work on the buckles of the overalls. 

He hums, pushing you up against the counter next to the fridge a little rough, a little dirty with the way his mouth and teeth and tongue are working on your neck. Your fingers slip on the counter, searching for purchase. “I love you, so much, really-fuck.”

Inigo barks at the base of the freezer, reminding you of why you’re telling Steve to stop. 

“I love you too, why do I feel like there’s a but coming though?” He pulls at the overalls, until they’re dropping at your ankles leaving you in his white shirt and black panties that he groans at, slapping at your ass and grabbing at each cheek with both hands as his nose drags down the back of your neck. 

“You gotta go wash your face and hands before we keep going, you smell like Inigo’s breath and your fingers cannot be inside of me after-”

“I hate this dog!” He proclaims, stomping down the hallway, grumbling a shouted, “He seems a decent fellow, I hate to kill him!”

Inigo cocks his head adorably at you, tail thumping against the tile. You pull out the red overstuffed with peanut butter kong and give it to him, patting his head as you whisper. “That does seem to put a damper on your relationship, but don’t worry buddy, he loves you.”

And you race down the hallway towards Steve in your bathroom shouting, “How dare you threaten my dog Harrington. Prepare to die!”

[gojosnympho]

cleaning day - k.nj

pairing: kim namjoon x black!fem!reader

genre: smut, lil bit of fluff, pwp, non-idol!au

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: established relationship, pet names, unprotected sex (don’t), lil bit of a breeding kink 🫣, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), praise, ass slapping, teasing, sex with joon over a counter (bc that needs a warning in itself), and multiple orgasms. (lemme know if i missed anything <3)

author’s note: this is my first time posting on here so let me know if y’all fucking with it and i’ll post more! <3 (also idk how to do the read more thing yet so i apologize for clogging up your dash🥲) i figured it out!!!

you designated saturday mornings for cleaning up the apartment you and namjoon shared. he helped usually, other times he “needed to run an errand”, or “yoongi needed his help with something” when he didn’t want to help you clean. most of the time you didn’t really mind it because it wasn’t a frequent occurrence and because he took such good care of you so cleaning the shared space by yourself from time to time wasn’t that much of a huge deal. today was one of his “errand” days. he’d left almost as soon as you started playing old r&b songs over the jbl speaker you used when cleaning. he knew what that playlist meant and he wanted no parts today.

right now you were in the kitchen washing the dishes and jamming out to an old r&b song your mother used to play throughout the house on cleaning days. you didn’t even realize that your boyfriend was watching you from the doorway of the kitchen. you hummed along to the song as you made sure the plate you were washing was clean to your liking, then you moved on to the next one. he was still watching you, taking in your appearance. you were in your regular cleaning day attire: one of his big ass shirts that damn near swallowed you whole, a pair of shorts, your scarf or bonnet, and slippers. he always thought you looked so pretty like that.

he walked up behind you and snaked his strong arms around your waist, “hi, sweetheart.” he greeted you with a kiss to your cheek. you melted into him almost; the smell of his cologne clouding your senses. “hi, joonie. back so soon?” you teased him with a giggle. usually he’d be gone until he knew you’d finished cleaning. you wondered what was so different today.

“i just missed you too much to stay gone, princess.” his sweet words made you giggle again. you continued your task of washing the dishes while he stayed wrapped around you. once you’d finished you were taking off the yellow dishwashing gloves and about to pull away from namjoon but he held you against him.

“what are you up to?” you asked him, craning your neck to look back at him. he had a smirk splayed on his face, dimpling his cheeks. mischief was swimming in his brown eyes. when you realized you shook your head no at him. you knew what he was up to now. horny bastard. “if you can’t help me clean up then you can’t have no pussy.” you turned in his arms so that you were facing him now, looking up at the tall man. he frowned at you, his dimples disappearing with his action.

“i promise i’ll help after.” he said and his stupidly handsome face and the pout on his face almost had you dropping your panties right there but you stopped yourself. “i literally look so unattractive right now.” you said and he sucked his teeth. oh how he hated when you talked down on yourself. even if you were just joking. “you can never look unattractive. now c’mon, baby, let me bend you over this counter,” he taps the cold marble counter with his hand for emphasis, “and fuck you until you’re creaming all over my dick.”

his words made you moan softly. you nodded at him and that’s when he pressed his lips to yours. the kiss was sweet at first his hand went to caress your cheek while his tongue pushed inside your mouth. it quickly turned needy and desperate though. you couldn’t believe he’d gotten you this riled up in such a short amount of time. he pulled you in deeper, placing his large hand on the back of your neck for leverage. soon his lips were on your neck to give it the same treatment. you moaned at the feeling of him biting your neck and then licking over the spot to soothe the ache.

while his lips were busy on your neck, his hands were running up and down your backside, and then his hands were under your—his shirt to play with your boobs. he squeezed the mounds of flesh in his hands and you both moaned at the feeling. your nipples pebbled under his touch. even after the three years you’d been together he still had the same effect on you and your body.

“love your titties baby. so perfect.” he praised squeezing them again drawing yet another moan from your already parted lips. he began rolling the hard nipples between his fingers and you moaned again but this time it was a little louder. he tugged on them softly and watched as you twitched and keened under his touch. if his dick wasn’t hard before it definitely was now. you looked so fucking pretty he thought.

“stop teasing me, joon.” you whined. you enjoyed foreplay just as much as the next girl but you needed him inside of you now. he usually preferred to at least make you cum once before actually fucking you because of how…big he was but right now you didn’t think you needed to be prepped. just the thought of him wanting you so badly he was willing to take you over the counter was enough to make you gush.

joon, to your dismay, ignored your comment and continued the ministrations on your body and leaving hickeys all over your neck. his hands were caressing your sides and your belly now. his hands were warm against you; in a way it was comforting. he pressed his lips to yours once more to swallow all the moans you made. “gonna eat your pussy. would you like that, princess?” he asked against your lips. you mumbled a soft “yes” in response. fuck what you were saying earlier about foreplay. if he was willing to give you head, who were you to deny him.

he turned you back around so that you were leaning over the counter. your clothed breasts laid flat against the hard surface and the cold marble made your nipples even harder than they already were. behind you, namjoon was pulling your shirt up to get a view of your ass. your sleep shorts hug the lower half of your body, the shape of your ass very prominent in them. you jolted forward when you felt him leave a smack on the right cheek. it wasn’t enough to actually leave any sting but it was enough to make your ass jiggle upon impact.

you felt him hook his fingers in your shorts and underwear and pull them down your legs. he helped you step out of them and then threw the clothing to the side. now here you were in your freshly cleaned kitchen half naked, dripping, and waiting for your boyfriend to touch you where you were aching for him the most. you didn’t even care that you would have to clean the counters and floor again as long as he was gonna fuck you. you felt his fingers trail up your thigh and stop right before he got to your pussy.

“kim namjoon! enough of the teasing!” you complained with a stomp of your foot. he chuckled at you but ultimately he gave you what you wanted because he wanted it just as bad. his hand finally found the wet slit of your pussy. both of you moaned, you because even that small touch felt so fucking good and him because of how wet you are.

“oh, baby. you’re dripping.” he said, barely above a whisper. he pulled his fingers away from your cunt to show you just how wet you were. his long fingers were glistening with your arousal and the sight had you moaning again. he returned his hand between your legs to rub circles into your clit.

“so good, joonie.” you praised him as your eyes fluttered closed from the pleasure. he was so skilled with his fingers and he knew it too. there’s been plenty of times when namjoon got you off with nothing but his fingers. he was even more skilled with his tongue though and that’s what you really wanted. it’s like he read your mind because you felt his thick tongue lick a stripe up your pussy. “oh fuck!” you cried out gripping on to the edge of the counter. he chuckled from behind you which sent vibrations straight into your dripping hole.

he attached his lips to your clit and began to suck on it while you moaned and pushed your ass back against his face. he grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them to give him a better view of your pussy. he flattened his tongue against your sex to lick up the juices that gushed from you. you were sure you were making a fucking mess but he didn’t give a fuck and honestly? neither did you. he slurped up more of your juices before returning back to sucking your clit.

“taste so good, baby girl.” he said into your pussy. you moaned again at his words. your orgasm was steadily approaching and if he kept going at this rate you were gonna cum. you started to grind down on his tongue to speed up the process. he noticed so he grabbed your hips to help you out. you dragged your pussy across his tongue at a steady pace until you felt that feeling in your stomach start to come undone.

“fuck, joon! ‘m cumming!” you cried out as you continued to move against his tongue. with a gasp and a soundless scream you were creaming all over his tongue, wetting his face even more in the process. you rode his tongue a little longer until the intense feeling went away. you sighed and used the little strength you had to look over your shoulder. joon smiled at you, his face shiny with your juices.

“how did that feel?” he asked you smugly. cocky bastard.

“it felt amazing but you didn’t need me to tell you that. the evidence is all over your face.” you said to him. he licked around his mouth trying to get as much of your juices off as he could.

“you made a mess.” he responded simply. you chuckled before laying your cheek on the counter again. the first orgasm still buzzing on your skin. you heard joon getting undressed behind you; his clothes hitting the ground with soft thuds. “are you ready for me, baby?” he asked you, sweetly.

“yes, joonie. please fuck me.” that’s all it took. the blunt head of his dick was running through your folds to collect your arousal and then he pushed into you slowly. “so fucking tight.” he mutters under his breath before pulling all the way out of you and then slamming back into you with no mercy. your body jolted forward from the sudden intrusion but before you could give him shit for it he was already giving you strokes that had every thought falling from your pretty little head.

his strokes were deep but slow. you could feel your pussy clenching around him with each thrust. all you could do was moan at the feeling. he was basically splitting you open. he started moving faster now, rocking his hips into you until the sound of skin on skin resounded throughout your kitchen. you moaned again trying so hard not to scream but it was nearly impossible because he was reaching so deep inside of you. he placed his hands on your hips to give himself more leverage to speed up even more. he was pounding into you now, pushing you up the counter with each powerful thrust. he pulled you back against him each time, the tip of his fat dick bumping against your sweet spot. your toes were curling and your jaw was slack as choked whimpers and moans came from your throat.

“you feel so fucking good…fuck!” he said and you moaned in response not being able to say anything with the way he was fucking you. he didn’t mind though. he enjoyed nothing more than fucking you stupid until you were nothing but a puddle beneath him. he angled his hips up so that now every time he drove into you he was pushing even harder against that spot inside of you.

“don’t stop, baby. please don’t stop.” you reached behind you to wrap your hands around his wrists to ground yourself because you were losing your fucking mind. he kept snapping into you, his hips smacking against your ass every second and you were seeing stars.

he moved your hands from his wrists and then pulled your body up so that you were standing back to chest. he never stopped fucking into you and this new position had you clenching around his dick so hard it was almost painful. you were dangerously close to toppling over the edge and joon knew it too.

“you gonna cum baby?” he asked and you nodded frantically. “yeah? you gonna cum all over this dick? milk me for everything i have?” you moaned at his words and he chuckled at you. he reached in front of you to rub your clit in fast circles. you cried out his name in a high pitched voice and his next words had you cumming all over him: “cum for me baby so i can breed this fucking pussy.”

you clamped down on him violently and as your orgasm washed over you, you chanted his name. he chuckled into your ear and then placed a kiss on your sweaty cheek. “that’s a good girl. now let me put my baby in you.”

he bent you back over the counter and started fucking into you again at a fast and brutal pace. his grunts turned into soft pants and his hips began to stutter.

“gonna cum.” he announced with a breathy whine before he spilled inside of you, ropes of his thick seed coating your walls. after he finished he pulled out of you and watched as both your and his cum dripped from your hole and onto the floor beneath you. he sucked in a breath at the sight before leaving a light smack on your ass. your brain was still fuzzy from your orgasm so all you could do was hum in satisfaction. joon rubbed your back as you came to your senses whispering praises into your ears about how good you did and how good you were for him.

“you are so nasty.” you softly chastised him when you’d finally gained enough strength to stand on your shaky legs.

“fucked you up didn’t i?” he asked wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. he rubbed your back some more to calm your trembling body.

“you better keep your promise.” you said to him. he placed a kiss on top of your now scarf-less head. you’d lost it during your…activities. “oh i will, starting with you. let me run you a bath, okay?”

once you were out of the bath and in new clothes, joon in fact did keep his promise. he cleaned up the rest of the apartment while you sat in bed and relaxed. what a sweet boy. he came to join you in bed a little bit later, wrapping his arms around you to cuddle. you relaxed into him, feeling your eyelids getting heavy with sleep.

“you know, maybe cleaning day isn’t that bad.” namjoon said to himself when he heard your light snores fill your bedroom.

[heavenlyakin]

Chemist on Campus

Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader - College AU

Word count: 3k

Genre: Smut

Warnings: vaginal sex, cunnilingus, dirty talk, use of 'good girl', and generally dirty things.

A/n: I don't think I posted this before my hiatus so I'm posting it here. If I did already, sorry you're getting it again on this account. I hope you enjoy it! Also, the title is literally just song lyrics, this has nothing to do with chemistry.

--

The breeze hitting your cheeks, the crisp autumn air, and the warm coffee in your hand has become a routine part of your day. It wasn’t that these things hadn’t existed before you started college, but now that you spent most of your morning walking from your dorm to class to the next class and then back to your dorm again. You just spent more time outside than in the confines of a stuffy, overcrowded classroom.

How had you survived 18 years of that? You couldn’t fathom having to go back to that life ever again. Thank god you had no plans or reason to.

Adjusting your earbuds, you smile as Novacane by Frank Ocean starts to play. This song might as well be another part of your routine, given that you had added it to all your playlists in the last few weeks. It wasn’t new or anything your friends were playing in the dorms or at parties, but something about the beat just made you happy. It made you feel motivated, plus some of the lines made you giggle.

Someone steps in front of you as you’re about to cross the courtyard of the student union, a microphone is thrust in your face. You remove an earbud and pause the song. His hazel eyes meet yours, and you smile politely.

“What song are you listening to?” Oh, you notice his friend with the camera now. You’ve seen them before on TikTok doing this. He’s a lot taller in person than you had thought.  

“Uh,” you hold up the screen, letting him see. “Novacane, Frank Ocean.”

“Nice, have a good day!” He calls after you as you continue your walk.

You sneak a few peaks back at him and his friend, noticing his eyes are following you even with his friend talking to him. You turn around, cheeks warming, and rush to get to class. You make a mental note to check TikTok later to see if you make the cut for his account. How hadn’t you recognized it was your campus he was filming on before?

Regardless, you don’t have time to think about that now. The professor walks in, dropping her bags on the table and smiling at everyone in the lecture hall.

“What do we know about basic literature tropes so far?” She asks and hands shoot up.

--

Reiner, that’s his name, you notice as you scroll through his account. He hasn’t posted today, but you start watching more of the videos, starting to pay attention to the surroundings and feeling silly for just now noticing the familiar buildings and scenery that makes up your campus. You roll on your stomach, bedding shifting and crumpling up even more than before.

“Whatcha watching?” Your roommate muses, looking over at you from her desk.

“Oh, just a TikTok. I think I met this guy today and might be in one later.” You tell her and her eyes grow larger.

“Oh!” She crosses the room to peak at your phone. “I’ve seen him all over campus. I think he belongs to one of the frats and they run that page together.” She tells you, always a source of information.

“Do you know which one?” You ask, locking your phone and letting it drop on your pillow.

“Sorry, I just listen to rumors. I don’t ever follow through on them or go to the parties.” She shrugs, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “Buuuut…” she elongates the word, “my sources say they have them Thursday through Sunday. You just have to get there before they’re overcrowded and shut down.”

“Well, we just have to go check it out for ourselves then.” You say, smiling wide. “Afterall, I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.”

She starts laughing, shaking her head slightly. “We shall see,” she says hesitantly. “You meet the guy one time, and you want to hook up already?”

“Is there anything wrong with that?” You frown, nudging her shoulder with your fist.

“As long as I don’t have to leave the comfort of my room this time, I couldn’t care less who you hook up with.”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and open your phone again. She’s right, maybe this time you won’t have to beg her to let you have the room. You’re sure the frats have more than enough space for a one-night stand, and maybe even a bed bigger than the twin in your dorm.

--

Friday nights in the dorm have a buzzing energy about them that you’ve started to get addicted to. All down the hall doors are open with music playing from them. Many of the girls offer to do anyone and everyone’s makeup or hair for the evening. Clothes are even swapped, sometimes tossed down the hall and from room to room. Other floors aren’t like this, you realized that a few weeks ago when you were invited to play games with a friend. You’re glad this floor has something special.

“Are you ready yet?” Your roommate asks, and you nod while applying a layer of gloss. You finally convinced her to come out to this party with you.

“All done,” you toss it in your small purse. “Wow, you look… hot!”

“Thanks.” She looks you up and down. “You look like you’re ready to get fucked.”

“Slutty would have been a better term,” you giggle, pushing her out the door.

You picked to live in the dorm closest to campus, and by default, the frat houses. The walk is short and there’s already a sea of people on the streets. The older students all seem to be going the opposite direction than you, heading towards downtown with the bars, clubs, and other places you’ve heard of but yet to venture into. Honestly, you don’t think you will until your friends also do. All of which, are perfectly content with the frats and house parties for now.

This one is not unlike any of the other you attend. Each night you go, it’s just added to a memory of blurring lights, overwhelming sensations, and little to remember once the hangover settles in the next day. Those are far more memorable, by far.

Your eyes scan the crowded living room, looking for the familiar build and blonde hair you’ve decided is tonight’s conquest. He’s not here. You push through the crowd, drinks spilling on your already dirty shoes. The kitchen is less crowded, spilling into the dining room which is abandoned except for one person sitting at the table.  

There he is.

Reiner sits leaning forward, his elbows on the table while he looks through his phone. The blue light illuminates his face, a frown across his brow piques your interest. You fill a cup with the punch on the counter, grabbing a second cup for Reiner at the table.

“Hey,” you say loud enough to draw his attention.

He looks up and smiles, so you slide the cup across the table to him. “Oh, thanks.” He takes a sip then eyes you again. “We met earlier, right?”

You nod, sitting on the seat adjacent to him. Smoothing the pink skirt over your thighs, you watch as his eyes watch your fingers, moving down the supple skin of your thighs. “Yeah, you asked what I was listening to.”

His eyes meet yours again, and you bite your bottom lip nervously. “Oh… that’s right. I do so many of those, it becomes a blur sometimes.”

“Oh,” your brows furrow and you take a long sip from your cup. Whatever confidence you had going into this tonight, you’re losing quickly. He doesn’t seem like he’s up for what you had planned and now it’s just awkward.

“It’s not that-“ He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, his bicep flexing. “Sorry, that probably came off really bad,” he laughs. “I didn’t mean that you’re not interesting or anything… I should probably just start over…” you notice the nervousness when he speaks, something you find incredibly endearing. “I’m Reiner.”

“-----,” you smile, putting your right hand over his left on the table.

You squeeze it softly, reassuring him hopefully. He responds by turning his hand, so his palm is against yours. Mission accomplished.

“Do you not like crowds?” He asks while intertwining your fingers with his.

“They don’t bother me, I just found something more interesting here.” You can’t help the sly smile that graces your face. “What about you? Sitting in here all alone.”

“Honestly, these get boring after a few years.” He shrugs, leaning closer. “So, what is it that you found so interesting?” His smile isn’t nervous or innocent now.

“You,” you say sweetly.

Standing, you manage enough bravery to move closer. Reiner turns in the chair, making it easy for you to straddle his thighs and sit yourself down on him. His hands rest lightly on your hips. You drape your arms around his neck as he leans back in the chair to look up at you.

“What about me?” He asks, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. So typically male to fish for a compliment this way.

“Dunno,” you lie, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. You note the way his sculpted chest feels against your breasts, and the tightness growing in his pants against your core. “Maybe I just thought you’d be a good ride.”

His eyes close before his lips touch yours. His kiss is hungry, full of need and desire. The tips of his fingers dig into your hips, his right hand trailing down to your ass, squeezing tighter. You roll your hips once, dragging your core against the growing erection in his pants. He gasps into your mouth, giving you access to him more. Your tongue drags across his, sucking it into your mouth.

You will devour him tonight.

He holds your ass tight in his hands, pulling you roughly against him. The softness of his joggers against your inner thighs sends shivers down your spine. One hand leaves your ass, the coolness of the room replacing the once warm grip. His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping your hair tight against the roots.

“I don’t feel like sharing how appetizing you look to the rest of this house.” His tone is anything but the nervous boy you originally thought he’d be. Instead, it’s full of confidence and command. “Let’s go down to my room.”

He lifts you off of him and onto the floor. You stand, wobblily from the sudden movement, but take note of the difference in your heights. You’d remembered he was tall when you met him earlier but being this close to him unleashes something in you that you didn’t expect to feel.

As you follow him down the stairs to what you assume is his room, you can’t help but mentally undress him. Remembering the hardness of his chest against your breasts only increases the wetness threatening to pool in your underwear. Pulling your skirt down, you step off the last set of steps leading to the basement. Reiner closes the door to the stairs, locking it behind him.

You only have a few seconds to examine the room, noting the couch you’re backed into. Reiner’s body presses against yours as you melt into the soft cushions. His weight on you makes your stomach explode with excitement, building and building into a tense bundle. His shirt comes off quickly, his impatience with waiting for you to pull it over his broad shoulders.

Your fingernails graze down his chest, and he tosses his head back with a hiss. “Fuck, do that again.”

You do, digging in slightly harder. His lips attack yours before you have time to react, your skirt is pushes above your ass. His fingers tease your cunt through the lace fabric of your underwear. You dig your nails into his shoulders, a wild grin from him indicates it’s just what he wanted.

“So pretty when I tease this wet little cunt,” his words leave you trembling. “I bet you taste as sweet as you look.”

“Why don’t you find out then?”

His chuckle warms your chest, your body heating inch by inch. His lips kiss down your neck, to your collarbone. His fingers pull your top and bra down just enough to reveal your bare breasts to him. The first flick of his tongue against your perked nipple makes you moan louder than you expected. You arch into his mouth, his other hand lighting pinching your nipple and squeezing your breast.

“Oh god,” you moan louder, your fingers biting into his skin.

His mouth moves to the other breast, giving it the same tortuous attention as the other. His fingers slip beneath the flimsy lace of your underwear, finally giving you some of what you want.

“Are you always this wet?” He asks, looking up at you from between your breasts.

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, instead he slips your top off your body, unfastening your bra and tossing them across the room. He kisses down your chest, to and past your navel, then slowly kissing down your hip bones. You buck your hips forward, begging with your actions. When that doesn’t work, you have to bed for real.

“Please,” your voice breaks mid word, making him smile up at you.

Your underwear are pushed down your thighs, past your calves, and tossed in the general direction of the rest of your clothes. You go to take the skirt off, but your hand is stopped as you’re reaching for the zipper.

“Leave it, please. I like how it looks bunched up around you.” He pulls your hand away and you nod.

He kisses just above your clit making you whine. His tongue licks up then back down, making you squirm closer. He grabs your hips holding you still while he takes his time with you. His middle and fore finger slip into you, fucking you at the same slow pace. You drag your fingers across his shoulders, tangling them in his blonde hair.

His fingers hit that sweet spot inside of you, making you push his face closer. Your thighs shake as he fucks you faster with his fingers while sucking on your clit. His tongue does wonders on you. It’s impossible to remember anything but him.

The tension that’s been building in your stomach is so tight, you’re about to explode. Just before you’re about to cum, he pulls his fingers and lips away. You start to whimper, but the taste of yourself when he kisses you disrupts it. His tongue floods your mouth and you pull him into you. Wrapping your leg around his waist you’re desperate to close all the gaps between you.

“I thought you wanted to ride me, gorgeous. Or do you not think you can handle me?” He whispers against your lips.

You place your hands on his shoulders, smiling and pushing him back. He smiles wildly as you sit up on your knees, unzipping the skirt and clumsily take it off. It joins the floor with your other clothes. When you focus back on him, you see he’s already slipped his joggers off and is stoking himself lazily.

Fuck…

His lips curl into a smirk. You don’t let it rattle you, instead you slip onto his lap like earlier. You take his face in your hands, biting his bottom lip and pulling back. He moans against you, and you move one hand to line him up with you. As you sink down, you whine and moan.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant as you adjust to his size.

“You got this baby,” he smiles up at you his eyes glossy with desire. “You feel so good, fuck.” His head lays back against the couch.

Leaning forward you kiss his neck, biting and sucking intermittently as you start to slowly roll your hips. His cock fills you, dragging against your walls with each motion. He grabs your hips, fucking up into you and taking your breath away. As your mouth opens and your tongue lolls out, he fucks into you harder making you cry out.

“Oh god, again please,” you whimper against his lips.

He fucks into you over and over, holding your hips and using the momentum to bounce you. You’re lost in him; the taste of his lips and the feeling of his cock deep in you with each thrust. His lips attach to your breast, and you wrap your arm around his neck and hold him close. His teeth graze your nipple, and you can’t stop yourself.

“Reiner, holy fuck. Oh gods,” you whine louder and louder as you cum around his cock. He chuckles against your nipple, never slowing his thrusts.

“You sound so sweet when you cum,” he tells you, kissing along your neck. “I’m going to have to hear it again and again until I’m fully satisfied.” The warning in his tone makes that tension coil in your stomach.

You came tonight expecting to devour him, but it seems he had the exact same thought…

And he’s winning…

Not that you care, afterall you’re feeling better than you ever have before. As you’re lost in the sensation that is him, he flips you onto your back, fucking deeper into you. He holds your hips while he finishes inside of you. He groans, falling down onto his elbows above you. His forehead rests against yours while he catches his breathe and you kiss his lips, cheeks, and nose softly while he relaxes more.

“So, you like Frank Ocean?” He asks, smiling down at you, dick still inside you.

You can’t help the laugh that leaves your body. “Oh my god,” you kiss him, grabbing his face again.

“What?” He asks, pulling away and out of you. He settles beside you on the couch, draping his arm around you. “I was editing the video when you came in, so I asked.”

“Right after blowing my mind,” you add giggling. He joins you in laughing this time.

[incorrect-gravescest]

Hello sinners and fellow Coffinheads! You can call me Lewdie Cutie! Welcome to my Incorrect Gravescest Tumblr!

ABOUT ME: A girl never gives her full age, but I'll just say I'm an Elder Millennial. She/her pronouns. Pansexual. Proshipper.

GRAVESCEST HOOKUP:

I write smut! Mostly RWBY but lately I've been branching out to TCOAAL. My TCOAAL smut list is as follows:

Close Calls (with Andy's Balls: Exploring the softer side of their relationship, these one-shots all take place in AU where the quarantine never happened and they never moved out of their parents' house. (Hey, rent is expensive!) Come watch as they try their best to hide their sexual relationship from their parents and the close calls that result in them almost getting caught.

Cupcakes: TRIGGER WARNING: Rape, non-con, verbal and physical abuse!! - Andrew Graves has had enough. The constant teasing from his sister, her constant attempts to bed him have finally worn thin and he's going to give her exactly what she deserves. Careful what you wish for, Ashley, you just might get it and you definitely won't like it. Unless...

From the Womb to the Tomb: The morning after a passionate night of Valentine's Day sex, Andrew and Ashley cuddle in bed and discuss what's next in their relationship.

A Heart's Disguise: Andrew Graves and Julia are high school sweethearts! At least, Julia thinks so. One night when they attempt to make love, Andrew just can't seem to get his mind into it, till inspiration strikes from his most taboo desires.

Hunger: Hunger. He had a deep hunger for her flesh, but not in a literal sense, though he had tasted such things before. Ashley knows what happens when she intentionally makes Andrew jealous while they're out in public. She knows exactly what he'll do when they're behind closed doors. And she wouldn't want it any other way.

You like music? I have a Gravescest Mix Playlist on Spotify with three hours of music so far! These aren't necessarily songs I think they would listen to, but songs that remind me of them and their love for each other.

If you enjoy lewd Twitter roleplay, you can find me RPing as Ashley Graves as BrotherPhucker_

Anything else you wanna know? Feel free to ask!

[redactedgender]

songs i associate with redacted audio characters - speaker edition

!! CW FOR MENTIONS OF ADDICTION, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS, AND AARON & ELLIOTT'S BACKSTORY !!

this is gonna be exactly what it says on the tin. there'll be some explanations under the cut for what im doing w this!

to keep it brief, im giving each of the characters under the cut three songs from my playlists of them, and go into a little detail on why i chose them/have them in their playlists. sounds simple, right? i'll also be including links to the songs if you want to add them to your own playlists!

with that, let me explain what the fuck is up shjdkfdsh

so a bit of context: i grew up writing karaoke fanfics on wattpad, which if you don't know, were reader-submitted requests for specific characters to sing songs within a short story, mainly in a group setting at karaoke. this has made me extremely specific with music and assigning them to characters, along with finding "singing voice-claims" for characters. so, i have some credentials when it comes to this stuff fjdhsgshjgd

with that explanation out of the way, onto the fun! one of the songs listed for each of them will be their svc (singing voice-claim), except for gavin, because i'm still working on finding his svc (i am leaning towards dpr ian for him though because... don't go insane. yeah)

if that all makes sense...

let's go!

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gavin

horns - bryce fox

; so this is the song i used as the title for my big ol' gaviant smut i wrote (shameless plug shhhhh). this song is just so gavin, especially season one gavin. the sex appeal that oozes from it, the way the singer wants the subject so badly even if he knows she's bad for him. like, s1!gavin wasn't a bad guy, but he was kind of morally ambiguous in a way that could be read as toxic. however, as freelancer's relationship with him deepened, we learn that he values consent and being authentic, something other concubi don't. what can i say, i like good character growth.

human - dodie

; this was one of the first songs i put on his playlist, and for good reason. this song, to me, is freelancer singing this about and to gavin. it's about connection, it's about wanting to see what the other person is like under the persona they've created. this song is what happened when freelancer began learning about gavin past the "sex daemon" persona, but its also what happened when gavin learned about freelancer and how they were more than a "jack-of-a-trades mess of a human". listen i love the two of them so much.

sweet tooth - scott helman

; a more recent addition to my playlist, this one also makes a lot of sense to me. this song is about addiction, and while gavin like, literally needs feelings of desire to live, it also can be said that he probably has had an unhealthy relationship with sex in the past. i also just really like this song. but i think gavin has healed a lot of his attitudes towards his fellow concubi, with freelancer's help and of his own personal efforts.

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elliott

dream boy - waterparks

; we have reached our first official svc! awsten knight of waterparks is my elliott svc. does this is really match my face claim for him? kinda? i had this svc waaay before i had josh hutcherson as elliott actually. but, to talk abt the song itself, i mean. c'mon now. it's literally elliott to sunshine. the vision in my brain is that elliott sings this at karaoke before he and sunshine get together, but are definitely both pining hardcore for each other. there's something about the playful flirty energy of this song that reminds me of elliott in the best way imaginable. he's just a little dorky, what can i say!

wasted summers - juju

; i like some angst! im not all fluff and humor and smut. i appreciate a good angst now and then. my brand of angst is just kind of specific. you'll see that in a sec. but this song just reminds me of elliott and aaron for obvious reasons. how aaron grew up too fast cuz of their parents, how aaron felt jealous and angry over elliott telling him and their mom about magic, how elliott told sunshine he's the protective type because of how he grew up (side note i have many thoughts abt elliott & blake and protection vs possession if anyone would be interested lmao). their relationship just makes me go a bit insane /pos.

still got it - troye sivan

; ALRIGHT THIS REQUIRES A BIT OF AN EXPLANATION. so i basically have a whole mv planned in my big ol' brain around this song, and around the concept of: what if scorpius' memory erasing worked for longer? what if elliott genuinely thought, for a bit, that he and sunshine had a bad breakup, but that he still loved them? and still "wanted them back"? only to then have the memories, the real ones, come back in a flood of sensory overload and horrible realizations? see? i like angst. :]

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porter

brutus - the buttress

; first things first, i dont support this band due to their transphobic comments. that being said, this song is incredibly porter-coded. "my whole life you were a teacher and friend to me / please know my actions are not motivated only by envy" - like this is just about will and vincent. i don't have to explain further.

we don’t have to dance - andy black

; porter's svc! i liked this song for him cuz i imagine treasure is the first person in a loooong time that porter has actually wanted to stay around, even though he's so used to these one night stands and passionate scenes. and even though he really likes treasure, he still goes back to the old him: offering just to dance, just to fuck, just for this to be casual.

car lights - james marriott

; so i have a little headcanon that porter's maker was someone that porter was dating in secret because he (maker) was the kind of guy who would say homophobic things in front of others, but would end the night with his tongue down porter's throat (or something like that). this song is about that kind of experience: worried you're about to be caught despite it feeling so fucking good. also, this song just kinda slaps.

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lasko

stutter - marianas trench

; this song just makes sense, not just in the fact that lasko stammers and stutters a lot when talking (especially when he's excited, god hes adorable) but also in that lasko is basically a hyperverbal autistic/auDHD person who constantly talks even when they don't have the energy to do so (totally not projecting what) and i think that's representation we don't always see. also, imagine him finding this song and dancing to it? yeah.

eraser - ricky montgomery

; lasko's svc! does this surprise anyone? actually it might. i love ricky montgomery so much, his debut album is one of my favorite pieces of music out there and i think he's such a talented artist. his range and subject matter in his songs always screamed lasko to me, and ricky's vocals just match lasko so much. this song is about being socially awkward, which like. yeah. i have like four or five ricky songs on my lasko playlist which is really funny actually hgjkfdhsdh!

my mother wants me dead - carolesdaughter

; lasko "mommy issues" moore anyone? yeah this song is that. i know i could have gone for the mitski mommy issues, but something about lasko tells me his mommy issues are like rage. like, as much rage as lasko can have towards a person. the damn fam and their mommy issues. this song also plays into my hc that lasko used to smoke before starting at D.A.M.N., picking it up after the inversion, and then quitting again once he started healing and met coworker.

━━━━━━━━

guy

fallin’ for you - r5

; as you all know by now, ross lynch is my guy faceclaim. and while i love the driver era (a kiss is also on my guy playlist, it is in fact the best tde song), ross' voice during the r5 era actually suits guy a little more to me if im being honest. also, its a hc of mine that guy's family did music, but guy had a really bad falling out with his parents and it kinds ruined things for a while. r5!ross's vocals are higher than now, since this was during the disney era, but this song is just too perfect to me not to use for guy.

30/90 from tick…tick…BOOM!

; i mentioned this in my face claim post, but i had andrew garfield as my guy face claim because of this song from the movie. it's just like literally guy tho. we know guy's a writer, we know how writers are. as a writer myself (not professionally), "30/90" is more than just representation of someone wanting to peak before their past "the right age"; this is about creatives wanting to make something that will last longer than their life, and that just screams guy to me. i don't think he wants to be famous, but i think he wants to have a legacy of media he creates last longer than himself.

honey - troye sivan

; listen. "something to give each other" is my favorite album from 2023, and most of those songs remind me of one redacted character or another, so if there's a lot of songs in my playlists from this album, shush. anyways, this song is an obvious choice for guy since it's titled "honey", but if you listen to it, it actually is a pretty sweet (eh? eh??) song. it's about falling for someone and wanting to be with them, and since its a fandom wide hc that guy probably fell in love with honey upon first meeting them, this plays into that idea. look i just love how much of a simp guy is for honey, what can i say?

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if i have any more energy to do more of these i will, but my spring break ends soon so we'll see. also, i managed to make height charts for redacted audio characters & listeners if anyone would wanna see those (they would include my listener oc's). also, if you have any songs you think fit the bois, i may open my asks again if you want to send those to me :0

[write-it-good-imagines]

Nothing More(M) - Five

Hello everyone!! Long time no see, indeed! I must say I hit writer's block these days but in no way did I abandon this story. Even more so now, when I am so eager to continue. This chapter will bring you spicy surprises and turning points ^^. Enjoy!

~6k words, angst, smut

I want to make you forget about that ex. In truth, I loved the idea of you overthinking all your texts. And I wanted all your neighbors to hear you yell when we have sex. I don’t want it to be a problem when we come together. And I don’t want us a secret.

Jackson plopped down on Mark’s couch, still carrying a serious look of disbelief on his face. “Look, I agree but Bambam literally said what we all thought. Collectively.”

Mark rolled his eyes at Jackson’s remark. He was searching for another song in his playlist to play on his vintage stereo system.

“I think we were more shocked to meet her like that,” Jinyoung continued, leaning against an empty small table in the living room. “Showing up at our studio.”

“And in that motorcycle jacket? Take my money. Did you know she had a bike?” Jackson put a hand dramatically over his chest.

Mark nodded. “Yeah, saw it first time I went to her house.”

“Living the dream. Hottest date, to ride the bikes together around town.”

“Could you stop fantasizing on my behalf?” Mark chuckled in Jackson’s direction and the latter laughed at the note. Mark then turned to Jinyoung, who was cocking an eyebrow. “I had no idea she would come to the studio, believe me. I wanted you to meet her under different circumstances.”

Jinyoung crossed his arms over his chest, a playful look in his eye. “You never told us why you came so early from your date.”

“Yeah, cause it wasn’t a date.” Mark commented and the other two men almost simultaneously turned to him. “Had the surprise to see her with another man.”

The playful look disappeared from Jinyoung’s expression. “You’d have to elaborate on that.”

“I can’t really elaborate, I didn’t stay around enough to see what happened next.” Mark shrugged his shoulders. “The guy had her backed against the lockers, a hand holding her cheek. It was not the first time he… they did that. It was the reason Sam came to the studio.”

“To explain.” Jinyoung completed, albeit not in agreement with the situation. “And what’s your take on that?”

Truth was, Mark did not have an exact answer to Jinyoung’s inquiry. Sure, the scenery of Samantha being present in the proximity of another man displeased and hurt Mark. He built some expectations for the two of them, carried away by their unquestionable synergy, and by the trust exuded by Samantha at every small dare or challenge presented by Mark. He believed in her words, and more than anything he believed in her. Mark believed in Samantha when she said she missed him, when she confided in him, when she said there would not be another guy. So, he put in the effort to carry himself in such a manner that would make Samantha desire him even more. At some point, Mark considered trying to have the talk with her, to play with his cards on the table, to build trust in them as more than just an arrangement.

At the very end, Samantha never promised anything, she never drew the line. Mark did not have it in him to throw the bouquet of the flowers he handpicked in the trash. But he was not indifferent to the image of her subjugated by the intimacy of another that was not him.

“I’ll hear her out.” Mark said lastly, seating himself by Jackson on the couch. A short quirk of the eyebrows as Jinyoung opted to simply nod his head.

“If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jackson chuckled. “If you wanted us to actually believe you, you should have used your acting skills at least.”

“Why? Not that convincing?”

Mark agreed with Jackson. “We’ve known each other 12 years. It takes so much more than that.”

The three of them laughed. Truly, a bond that not many people get to have in a lifetime. And Mark knew Jinyoung, as much as everyone else, was looking out for him.

“If you have something to say, just say it.”

Jinyoung sighed and threw his hands in the air. “Look, I know, a good-looking, bike-riding, smart surgeon woman, who has a mysterious aura about herself. I’d be a hypocrite to say I wouldn’t get interested.”

“You know what he’s gonna say.” Jackson extended an arm over the backrest of the couch.

“All I’m saying is that, given the circumstances, I wouldn’t be happy at all. If a guy touched or held the girl I liked like that.”

All eyes were focused on Mark.

“But why don’t you talk to her and set the record straight? I’m all for explaining,” Jackson shifted his body to face Mark, “but if you told her, you liked her beyond just the sex, at least you’d know it’s either this or that.”

Jinyoung moved his hands in a gesture that indicated he agreed with Jackson. And Mark agreed with them, too. In any given situation, he would be the type of man to express his wishes and voice his wants and needs. Mark did not necessarily like the chasing. Within his chest, he knew why he was still playing the game and why he did not walk away the second he saw Samantha with the stranger man who was playing with his mind. Regardless, Mark let the little evil elves whispering in his ear take the reins of reasoning. The bell of the front door started ringing vigorously.

“It’s complicated.” Mark rose from the couch. “It’s also Samantha at the door,” said he, half-doubtful he spoke the words to convince himself it truly was her at the door. When he opened it, he actually made sure of it.

Samantha looked very different since the morning visit to the studio. The commanding behavior softened to a natural feminine aura, the sun-kissed freckles no longer hidden behind foundation accompanied by the mellow smile she had the day they met, everything stunned Mark.

Samantha felt very different.

“Hey, beautiful.” Mark welcomed Samantha with an observation he’d hoped was as visible to her as much as it was to him. Mark was distracted by the lively bark of Murphy, eagerly anticipating a welcome as warm as his mother’s. So, he obliged, the smile sketched on his face growing as he knelt to ruffle Murphy’s fur.

Samantha followed Mark’s carefree movements with warmth coloring her features. She didn’t know what to expect from him; all that she hoped was that Mark wouldn’t look at her with repulsion. Instead, Samantha was met by the same jovial Mark she’d met the very first time. And it scared Samantha that Mark felt very different since morning, all the same.

Did he care, still?

“Hey, yourself.” Samantha replied and watched as he straightened his body to meet her eyes. How much did she wish that that would’ve been their reunion, that he’d plant a kiss on her lips and circle his arms around her frame in a longing embrace. Suddenly, Mark felt so far apart.

“Come in.”

Mark pushed the door open and guided Samantha into the living room. She noticed two very familiar silhouettes, Jackson as he was putting his leather vest on, and Jinyoung as he was gathering his things. Murphy’s little woofs distracted the two men into looking at the source of sound, smiling at the little creature. Eyes speedily travelled to Samantha’s physique, and both greeted her with a smile. Perhaps Jackson’s more expressive. He was the first one to formally introduce himself. There was a lively song playing in the background.

“I’m Jackson, nice to meet you, finally.”

Samantha prevented her eyes from widening. Maybe Mark did speak about her. She took Jackson’s hand and shook it, enjoying his amiability.

“Likewise, Jackson. I truly hope you didn’t think I was a freak or anything.” Samantha offered a smile of her own eliciting a chuckle from the other. She caught Jinyoung in the corner of her eye as he examined her. Not blatantly, yet not covertly either. Samantha wondered what they both thought about her.

“Far from that,” Jinyoung chimed in, giving his own hand for a greeting, “but you definitely incited the collective curiosity.”

Samantha took the invitation, meeting Jinyoung halfway. Out of everyone, she figured he was the toughest to impress. And on good merit, nonetheless. “I wouldn’t say about myself that I’m an open book but please know I’m more than happy to clear the curiosities.”

The corner of Jinyoung’s lips lifted in a modest smirk. “Maybe I’ll heed the invitation.”

Jackson cleared his throat and Jinyoung pulled back. “Don’t worry about us, we were just leaving.”

“No bother at all. I wouldn’t want us to be so formal, it was very nice meeting you both.” Samantha extended her hands to offer the two men a warm wave and a small dip of her head. Jackson and Jinyoung both did the same, the last action they made prior to heading out the door. “Likewise, Samantha”.

Mark’s loud sigh doubled the echo of the closing door which caused Samantha to fiddle with her fingers. “I must have made a terrible impression, haven’t I? They definitely think I’m a freak.”

“Nope, no freak,” Mark turned around to walk toward Samantha’s direction. As he was approaching, he was unzipping his hoodie. “They just don’t know you. Actually, Jackson was quite smitten with you, I could swear he’d want to steal you for himself.”

It was the first time Mark had openly spoken about his members, even more so about anything that had to do with their opinion about her. Mark’s words were not reassuring enough for Samantha as eyes were still focused on her nervous fingers. She didn’t know what to make of the entire situation. “Jinyoung doesn’t like me.”

Mark grabbed at the hem of his T-shirt to throw it over his head. A bracelet at his wrist was tangling loosely when he guided Samantha’s chin to make her look at him. “Out of all of us, Jinyoung is the one who doesn’t play games when it comes to people. You have to make him trust you before he lets you in."

The initial nervousness Samantha felt while fidgeting with her fingers transformed into butterflies into her stomach. Although the main emotion she was feeling was uneasiness, at his words, and at his sudden naked torso. She had but a moment to watch the muscles of his abdomen contract and relax with the movement of the arm which was holding her frozen in place. Henry’s most similar gesture crossed her mind. “Do you play the game, Mark?”

Mark’s irises were fixated on hers. The tone of his voice softened and lowered with each spoken word, until it became little more than a whisper. A question for a question. “Are we playing the game, Sam?”

Samantha’s lips parted with a sigh, the knot in her stomach tightening. There was no hint to suggest that Mark was not serious with his inquiry. She knew the answer to his question, but the words were frozen like they weren’t hers to speak. While Mark was looking at her, with the stoicism of his body and the seriousness of his eyes, Samantha presented herself agonizingly transparent.

“Wasn’t this the way he was holding you?” taunted Mark, drawing closer to her in an even voice. His other hand found the clothed valley of her hips. “Did you want him to kiss you?”

“No.” Samantha stated, an ounce of desperation evading beyond her control. The infinitesimal distance Mark was keeping between them was slowly driving her crazy. And he knew he held all control. “At no point did I want him to kiss me.”

Silence followed. A harrowing silence growing heavier with each movement of Mark’s brown orbs drawing back and forth on her features. Samantha grabbed Mark by the chest. “Say something goddammit!” she urged.

Mark pulled Samantha into him and slammed his lips against hers. In the background, a sexual melody mix broke into the stereo system. Samantha wobbled on her feet, which caused Mark to tighten his grasp around her figure. The background music melted with the swift ringing in her ears and the tips of her fingers turned cold from the unanticipated contact. Mark’s kiss was raw and hurried, yet obscenely sensual. Samantha’s lungs were deflating quickly, and Mark did not seem too eager to let her breathe. It was the first time he initiated such a kiss. His lips had always worked against hers with tenderness, at times enticing, but never so ardently carnal.

It was a possessive kiss and Mark wanted Samantha to feel it.

Mark pushed their bodies into the couch, and he slid his knee in between her thighs. During the brief moment their lips were separated, Samantha gasped for air, which was rather a sharp moan with Mark settling above her, and his clothed knee tormenting her womanhood. “Mark, I can’t breathe.”

“I couldn’t breathe either when he was towering over you, Samantha.” His visage was wearing the same chilling expression, albeit a sliver of distress hiding behind it. “I imagined him doing all sorts of things to you, with you. Fuck.”

Mark tilted his head to the side, a canine digging into the plush of his lower lip. Samantha’s eyes were watching him intensely. She was devoid of any courage to speak a word. Never would she have imagined she would see Mark like that. Not for her.

“I missed you girl, I missed you. And I…” You’re all I fucking think about.

Samantha gulped. She was observing Mark’s every gesture, every little shift in his facial expression, every word he was speaking. All the feelings in her chest were strangers and Mark was tempting and enchanting. He was everything Samantha wanted him to be. Even when he suppressed his thoughts, Mark was everything Samantha wanted. And he was there, in her immediate grasp.

You’re all I ever thought about.

“Kiss me, Mark.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Mark lowered his body instantly to connect the kiss in a lustful motion. His tongue lost no time to part Samantha’s lips and find her own into a frenzied tango. As his hands slid down to play with the hem of her t-shirt, so did the ever-growing feelings for the woman he was holding. The blood in his veins was pulsating with apparent unrequited affection, and it set him ablaze.

Mark broke the kiss in a nimble motion to undress Samantha of her shirt, to reveal her braless breasts. The tantalizing sight aroused Mark like it did the first time. For him, sex with Samantha felt like it was the first time every time. There was always something new he’d discover in the voluptuousness of her body, in the way her body would curve differently with each heated touch of his hand. Mark licked his lips and undid her shorts.

“Mark…” Samantha mewled, the cold breeze circling her breasts provoked a shudder. She edged her breasts as her eyes darted back and forth between Mark’s hands and the growing bulge in his jeans. Samantha was struggling to form coherent thoughts when he was immorally commanding the pace. She didn’t fight the vulgar lust invading her core. It was easier giving in to the euphoria than acknowledging the truth.

Easier than voicing that Mark should be the one.

“Tell me, darling.” There was a wicked inflection in Mark’s tone, busy with undressing Samantha of her shorts and underwear all at once. “What do you want?”

If it was any other moment, Samantha would have said it was his love she wanted. Still, a hue of shyness colored her rosy cheeks. “I want you, Mark.”

Mark was happy to obey, even if he was convinced Samantha was not speaking seriously. She wanted his body, while he desired her soul. In the heat of the moment, for the short time they’d spend as one, Mark heard what he needed to. That she wanted him, and she’d choose him. He lowered his body to plant kisses through the valley between her breasts, the butterfly pecks eliciting sultry moans out of Samantha’s throat. When his lips passed her chest’s threshold, Mark continued the delicious trail to her abdomen, one hand encircling Samantha’s breast. The other was keeping her thigh from squirming.

Samantha closed her eyes and threw her head into the soft material of the couch to indulge in the intense eroticism Mark was injecting into her body. When his sinful mouth reached her womanhood, Mark chuckled. Then he continued to leave kisses on her inner thigh, deliberately ignoring the wetness of her cavern. Samantha was vexed by Mark’s actions, and she groaned in protest. The hand previously on her breast travelled to her hip to intertwine with her fingers. Mark acknowledged her objection by nibbling a violet spot into her thigh. He traced it with the free index, shifting his body to worship Samantha’s other thigh with blissful movements of the tongue. The little perverted sounds she was making were truly driving Mark to impatience.

The way Samantha’s body was submitting to his febrile touches indicated that she wasn’t that far away either.

Mark pulled away momentarily to unzip his jeans and dispose of them on the floor. The rupture of their connected hands forced Samantha to dig her fingers into the plush of the sofa. The heat in her genitals was much more intense than she anticipated it would be. The simple fact that Mark retreated from tending to her pelvis made her moan loudly, and her vagina clench. Samantha watched him as he undressed himself to reveal his throbbing shaft, and she bit her lip in anticipation. Mark smirked at her and climbed atop her to seat himself between her legs. As he was leaning down to reach her level, the tip of his cock rimmed against soaked clit.

Mark linked their foreheads together, supporting himself with one arm by the side of her head. His other hand rested at the cusp of her jaw. He angled himself at her saturated entrance and slid the tip of his penis inside her. A guttural moan echoed in the air.

“We never did it like this, so tell me if it hurts.” Spoke Mark in a gentle tone and opened his eyes to observe Samantha. She gently shook her head and her fingers stretched into Mark’s shoulder blades to guide his body in a slow thrust. He let out a groan from the depth of his throat, feeling the creamy walls of her vagina enclosing around his shaft. Mark gave her a moment to adapt to his size, gazing intently at her. Samantha was so beautiful, with flushed cheeks and her splendid naked body, all of her offered to him.

Mark felt his heart ache.

“How can you say I’m not making love to you when I’m touching you like this?”

Samantha’s eyelids closed and fluttered open with Mark’s affirmation. The coherent words she tried to form were dispelled instantly when he started moving inside her with controlled thrusts, each forward move taunting her sweet spot. Samantha opened her mouth only to allow the moans to flood the air. And Mark was watching every contraction of her body and indulging in each pulsation of her pussy.

He leaned down to nip at the lobe of her ear. “When you’re giving yourself to me like this?”

“Mark…” Samantha reached to his face to lead the hazel of his eyes to hers. In his eyes she found the same commanding yearning but propelled by a raw sincerity that Mark had not given to her. Everything he was doing gave her a sense of serenity, fueled by the abnormally erotic movements of his hips. In a matter of minutes, she surrendered to him and to the zealous whines her lungs were making.

“What is it, baby?” He picked up the speed of his thrusts, heeding the contractions in Samantha’s womanhood. “You’re close, I know. What I didn’t know is how wet you could get.”

Samantha intended to avert her bashful expression, but Mark’s touch kept her focused on him. “Don’t hide. Let me take care of you.”

Amidst the whorl of sentiments and thoughts racing through her mind, Samantha found an anchor in Mark. She registered all the words he’d spoken to her and all the shielded gestures, and bare confessions. Samantha was powerless to respond, instead. There never was a man in her life to bear his heart on his sleeve, even half of how Mark was bearing his. In her normality, he was an abnormality. And still, he made good of his words and actions and took care of her.

Samantha relaxed in his embrace and extended her body to plant a kiss on his lips. A mellow kiss which Mark reciprocated so naturally that life halted for a second.

Then Mark enveloped Samantha as her body abruptly contracted. She held on to him as she reached for nirvana, her vocal cords enchanting Mark with lascivious breaths repeatedly. Hearing Samantha succumb to ecstasy was the sweetest testament Mark could receive. The hot blood in his veins met the point of boiling as he was getting closer to climax. A couple more lustful thrusts accompanied by roaring groans, each growing faster than the other, brought Mark as close to the edge as he could get. He guided himself out of Samantha’s core to reach his orgasm and paint her abdomen with his white cream.

Samantha enjoyed that particular view of Mark, so much that it was his turn to show a timid smile. It took a little while for Samantha to follow what happened, and when she did, both of them chuckled at each other.

“I’ll get some paper towels.”

“You’ll find me here.”

Samantha’s ears followed the sound of Mark’s steps and the muffled grunt that followed soon after. He returned with a handful of paper towels, and Samantha couldn’t look away from his still hard penis.

Mark took one cloth to clean his canvas half-heartedly. “Round two?”

Samantha giggled. “I’ll have to refuse. Round one was unexpectedly intense.”

“You have no idea how sexy you are.”

Samantha felt her cheek darken once more. She was watching silently as Mark was wiping her abdomen. When he was done, he walked away to throw the used napkins.

“Are you okay? You’re unusually quiet.” Mark’s voice reverberated through the kitchen.

“I’m alright, just a bit tired.” She responded, and Mark immediately walked back to her. He knelt down with her back facing her, gesturing for her to hop on his back.

“Let’s get to bed.”

Samantha hummed and attached herself to Mark’s body. She had never noticed how broad his back was, under the hoodies and oversized shirts he was usually wearing. Mark effortlessly rose from the ground and carried her to the nearby bedroom. He carefully seated Samantha on the edge of his neat bed, and she smiled to herself at the considerable number of pillows residing there. In front of the bed there was a small dressing which Mark opened to retrieve one clean shirt and a pair of shorts for himself.

“I don’t want you to get cold. Here, arms up.” Mark whispered, and Samantha complied with his actions. The dark shirt Mark had given her was large enough to reach her knees. He tossed the thin summery blanket away and helped Samantha up into the nook of his bed.

“Thank you, Mark. You’re so protective of me.” She smiled softly and happily accepted the invitation to encompass herself into Mark’s arms.

 He raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn’t see. “You don’t want me to be?”

“I do,” she answered quickly and laced their hands together. “I like this a lot.”

Mark tilted his head to follow the lazy sunset shimmer through the window. The loose hand he folded under his head served as a good excuse to avoid looking Samantha in the eye. As easy as it had been to drown in her orbs while laying together, just as hard it was to do so while returning to reality. Samantha noticed the atypical silence. With the aphrodisiac sensations fading away, all the words that Mark spoke to her started to click. Samantha was drawing absentmindedly on Mark’s forearm with the tip of her index, trying to reproduce the memory of each phrase. The subtle agony of I couldn’t breathe either when he was towering over you, Samantha, the slight panic in the I imagined him doing all sorts of things to you, with you.

The melancholy in the How can you say I’m not making love to you when I’m touching you like this? which made Samantha’s heart tremble was the seed of hope planted in her soul. If there was any source of truth to say that Mark truly harbored feeling for her, it was not tangible anymore.

Mark, once again, felt so different.

 “What are you thinking about, Mark?” Samantha looked up at him just in time to see how breathtaking the warm colors of the sunset appeared on his features.

He was silent for a while. “About you.”

Samantha furrowed her eyebrows. “What about me? I’m right here.”

A little sigh. “Nothing… it’s just I’m leaving tomorrow, and we won’t see each other a while again.”

“I know…” Samantha’s voice trailed off in sadness. “I don’t want you to go.”

Mark gave a little squeeze to her hand, eyes still watching the first moments of dusk adorning the sky. “That’s not under my control, unfortunately.”

 “I don’t want you to go out of my life, Mark.”

Samantha could swear the vein in Mark’s wrist strained at her words. Still, his expression remained impassable. After a couple moments spent in unmerciful silence, he continued. “Do you think about us? About what we could be?”

The palm of her hand was starting to sweat. Easy answer? Yes, I cannot devote myself to anything that’s not you. True answer? Do you want to take my broken heart? Samantha sensed that she was running out of time, and in hindsight, she should have known that earlier. A man like Mark who had the world at the tips of his fingers, who could have anyone he wished for, wouldn’t say the things he said to any woman that easily. All of it meant something, it should have meant something. It was everything Samantha clung to, for it to mean something. She had to make a decision.

“Forget I asked. You don’t need to say anything.”

“He hit me, Mark.”

The music formerly playing in the background silence of the living room stopped altogether. Mark’s phone must have died, and so did his concentration at Samantha’s sudden confession. His head jerked back to her direction in an impulse to check if she was hurt, even if there was no earthly possibility for her body to be in physical pain at that moment.

Samantha’s mouth was dry, and it shocked her to see Mark’s immediate reaction. She didn’t lose him, he was still there with her. “He hit me after he killed a mother and her unborn child in the operating room.”

“How are we doing there, mrs. Dalton? Can you say something for me?”

Henry’s deft motions of his nimble hands kept raising the standards for a second-year resident. The attendings in the observing room were watching the awake brain surgery with great interest, as was the then-director of the hospital.

“Oh, I can’t wait for this to be done,” the woman rubbed her hand lovingly on her pregnant belly. “Sandra should know the adventures mommy went through.”

“Status on the baby, Doctor Stoss?”

Up until the question was addressed to her, Samantha did not unpeel her eyes from the fetal monitor. “Like a Swiss watch.”

“Keep saying the good news, Doctor Stoss. I’m sure mama Dalton would love to hear that more often.”

“Oh Doctor Carter, I’m sure you were born such a charmer.”

Samantha’s vision was fixated on the handle of the dressing door. She was explaining her memories as if she was living them again. “This surgery had half the hospital watching. It was a procedure previously not done in that medical center, and Henry had had the privilege to participate in one once when we were interns in Toronto. He’s thinking of himself as the hotshot, as he should. His skill and knowledge are top-notch. But they failed him.”

“Doctor Stoss over there can attest to me being a charmer. Or not.” Henry chuckled under his surgical mask, and he quickly stole a glance at Samantha, before focusing on the region of the tumor which he had just reached. “We’re here, mama. Shouldn’t take too long to take it out.”

Mrs. Dalton’s vitals spiked up a level and Samantha observed the nerves on her face. She left her intern in charge of the fetal monitor and approached the woman to reassure her. “It’s going to be okay. We’re here for both you and your little girl.”

Just as Samantha was returning to her previous post, henry was actively preparing to remove the tumor located in a tricky area of mrs. Dalton’s brain. “I’m in.”

The collective audience in the gallery leaned forward to witness Henry’s work. At that point, the loud beeping of the machines pierced the operating room with alarming sounds.

“Doctor Carter, baby’s vitals are starting to drop.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on with my baby?”

“Please try to remain calm, Mrs. Dalton. These reactions happen naturally when a tumor body is being extracted. Once I take this out, everything will get back to normal—”

“Only it didn’t.” Samantha’s fingers curled unconsciously as if reaching out for a scalpel. “I was repeatedly telling him I needed to do a C-Section to save the girl and put her in NICU. At seven months old, she had all the odds of surviving. If only we moved fast enough…”

The distressing sounds of the monitors multiplied when the woman lost consciousness. Her vitals became hectic graphics on the monitors, and Henry visibly stiffened.

“Henry, we are losing this baby. I need to perform the emergency C-Section now.”

“No. I’ll save them both, wait.”

While Henry was applying the standard emergency measures, Samantha’s attention was distracted by the uneasiness of the spectator gallery. She briefly noticed Jonathan, with a looming look on his face that any surgeon regardless of their specialty would understand. The unborn baby was losing its vitals.

“Henry, I’ll move forward. Scalpel, please!”

“I told you to wait! Doctor Stoss, I need you to follow the protocol of my OR.”

“I guess indeed it was his surgery. But those were not his lives to take.”

Half-heartedly, Samantha hesitated to start the neonatal protocol. While Henry had authority, he did not have a positive chance to save both lives. When the fetal monitor fell flat, Samantha went against his instructions and cut into the mother’s belly.

“By the time we took out the little girl, her heart had already stopped beating. We did all the resuscitation maneuvers we knew and could…” Samantha let out a sigh, and Mark pulled her tighter into him. “All hell broke loose. I don’t know when Jonathan got to the OR, but he was there for all of it.”

“Time of death…” Samantha’s discouraged voice echoed throughout the macabre silence of the operating room. “Six thirty-one.” Two paces away, resuscitation maneuvers were still going for the woman on the table. When Henry realized there was no use for them anymore, he stepped away from the body, prompting everyone else to follow his example. “Time of death, six thirty-five.”

Nobody in the room dared move a finger. Two casualties in an operating room which, on paper, could have been avoided. It was a medical disaster. Samantha pulled down her surgical mask, to try and take hold of the situation. “We’ll need to go outside and inform the father—”

“You let her die.”

All eyes fell on Henry. Samantha couldn’t believe her ears. “Excuse me?”

“That baby could have been saved.”

Henry’s voice grew louder, more assertive. Samantha stood her ground, deliberately choosing to ignore Henry’s last comment. “I understand this must be a difficult situation for you, Doctor Carter, but in no way am I to blame.”

“That baby could have been saved!”

As his voice grew into a striking holler, Samantha no longer recognized the man in front of her. She was searching for the proficient doctor, for the partner that he was. And for the lover that he used to be.

“Henry,” Samantha kept calm even though her head was spinning in disbelief “you told me to follow your protocol in your OR—"

 At that point, Samantha could not register what had just happened. Henry raised his hand at her and slapped her on the cheek. There was a shared gasp among the people in the room who refused to understand Henry’s tameless reaction. By the time Samantha tilted her head back to look at Henry, Jonathan had stepped up to punch him in the face.

Mark raised an eyebrow. Although he got off to a rocky start with Jonathan, his respect for him grew substantially.

“A couple of guys had to restrain Jonathan because clearly that wouldn’t have been the last punch he would’ve thrown. After that, I went to inform the father of his… losses. Henry was not allowed to accompany me. The father sued the hospital for malpractice, and I have no idea how they settled. I only saw Henry once, after that. They summoned all the medical operating staff to testify. He never looked me in the eye, not once. I wanted to believe that he was sorry, something to make me believe our relationship was not a lie. I never got closure for that.”

Mark waited patiently for Samantha to continue. When she did not, he placed a chaste kiss on the crown of her head. “Did you need that? Closure?”

She sighed. “I guess I did. When you think you have something of that magnitude with someone, only for it to fall apart in the most gruesome way, I needed some sort of a life raft. Truth is, we started falling apart even before he hit me. Henry was starting to become distant and full of himself. But I never expected him to be violent.”

Mark noticed the flake of regret in her voice, to briefly wonder how things are settled in the vast Universe. Hadn’t Henry done that, Mark wouldn’t have gotten to fall in love with her. Life was funny, that way.

Samantha sighed, once again, yet more out of liberation. Albeit painful, she truly needed to convey the feelings out loud for them to become less repressive. Maybe to disappear.

“Can you understand now, Mark? Why he was able to hold me down at all? Why it is tough for me to trust someone again?”

Mark’s lungs filled with air. “Even me?”

Samantha closed her eyes. He did not need to spell it out loud for her to understand what he meant. “I just need a little more time, Mark.”

Indeed, he never expected to hear anything different, it still did not mean it hurt less. On the one hand, because Samantha still didn’t see him fit to be trustworthy, and on the other hand because he seemingly was giving more than she was ready to receive.

“Should I keep my distance then?” his voice was flat, too much so that he must have given away he was disappointed, because Samantha tightened their holding hands.

“No.” She answered timidly, looking up at him for the first time in a long while. Mark’s eyes were diverted to the emerging summer night. He was slipping away through her fingers, once more.

“I don’t know if I can give you both ways.” Not when I know I'll never treat you the way he did.

[johnsuhsposts]

NCT 127 x Songs that suit them cuz why not

some sucky scenarios by me

~~~

a/n: hiii<3. this is my first ever tumblr post. i just wanted to write this because i needed some inspiration to write smut for some of the members and i didn't know where to start like at all. anyways... this isn't for the faint of heart. i just needed to get this outta my system. like i have so many ideas for fanfics and this is how i'll get my motivation to actually write something decent. anywho, there will be more to come in the future!! so enjoy this meal.

~~~

(tags are at the bottom!)

warnings: explicit shit. that's all. xx

–

TAEYONG - Over Some Wine - RINI ft. Maeta

Taeyong would play this song while he goes down on you. I'm sorry but it's true. He would do everything slow just so you could get impatient but the more you whine the slower he'd go. Everything from touching you slowly, to him fucking you slow or playing with his thrusts to the beat. It's just... wowowwww.

–

JAEHYUN - Touch - Cigarettes After Sex

This song just SCREAMS Jaehyun. The whole vibe would just be a song that would play in the background as he holds you close to his chest and plays with your hair, and he would sing it a little to you, like ugh. He would teasingly kiss your neck under the dim lights of his room while his record player hums in the background, and you'd feel his cold yet wandering hands on your burning skin.

-

DOYOUNG - Thinkin about You - Frank Ocean

All I gotta say is, he would make out with you to this song. Making out would eventually lead to other things but he'd take his time and when you stop kissing to catch your breath, you guys would giggle at each other which is so cute. Though he'd use songs of a different vibe to fuck you, this would be one of the ones you'd hear while you make out with him.

–

JUNGWOO - Messages From The Stars - RAH Band

I'm not sure why I chose this as his song, but it fits him for some reason. Jungwoo, as innocent as he looks, is lowkey freaky as hell; say I'm lying. He'd literally have you seeing stars while he's fingering you to this song and laugh when you moan because he knows he's got you wrapped around his finger. Like, this man is a sadistic masochist and doesn't even try to hide his freaky side when he's with you.

–

HYUCK - Savita (feat. Swae Lee)

Donghyuck is literally a drama queen. But he's also so hot. Like smokin' hot. He would have this song playing while giving you backshots most def. He groans everytime you clench around him and it just makes him fall in love all over again with you. He would continue to fuck you so good that it'd have your legs shaking. He'd have no shame in breeding you either. Seeing you full of his cum was mind-blowing. It made him so hard to see his cum leaking out of you. He literally loved it.

-

TAEIL - Call Out My Name - The Weeknd

Taeil loves having these types of songs playing whenever you come to spend time with him at his house. He loves it when you say his name, letting him know that you're enjoying yourself. You two would make out passionately on his couch while a movie plays in the background on low volume; eventually leading to steamy, hot sex that you'd never forget. After Taeil rocks your shit and nearly breaks the bed from you two's rough sex, you'd most likely be encouraged to visit him more often.

-

YUTA - Rosemary - Deftones

Yuta loves the sound of guitars playing in the background mixing in with your heavenly moans. Half of his playlist would consist of rock music while he rearranges your guts and listens to your sweet sounds, spurring him on further. He enjoys just spending time with you period, and he'd do anything to have you go dumb on his cock with his favorite song playing.

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MARK - Change Your Life (feat. Jhené Aiko)

Mark is the type to take everything slow. He loves having Kehlani playing from his phone as he's leaving hickeys all over your body and watching you shudder under his fingertips. He gets so hard everytime you whisper to him to fuck the absolute shit out of you. He just likes spending his time with you and doesn't regret any second of it. He would never get used to this.

-

JOHNNY - Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood

Johnny is the whole fucking definition of this song. While fucking the shit out of you with this playing in the background, he'd most definitely become an actual dad- minus the issues. He just loves the way you feel around him, and he'd cum so much just from being inside you, it's just shocking. Johnny would be the best daddy to your babies.

-

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a like if you enjoyed. More will be published in the future.

(Original work. Please DO NOT copy.)

(Not my original idea but the scenarios do belong to me.)

(feel free to reblog if you'd like!)

[bitchkay]

Do you have anything written about Fenn and Zev? Every time i think about these two meeting i giggle. They would be an unstoppable force of nature together

You're so right cus literally when writing for Zev l listen to my Fenn playlist

The energy it gives off💯💯

(The playlist has been edited since I took pic lol but only by like 2 songs)

Very fun very fun very fresh

I have like 3 fanfics(smut) for Zev in my Googles docs that straight up just aren't finished💀

I also have a fic for Fenn in there but its like

Angst👁👁

But it has smut in it tho, soft core smut however

I keep telling myself I need to make a playlist for Zev cus Fenns playlist is just slightly too cunty like it has Britney Spears and Ayesha Erotica

Zevs a whore but a different kind of vibe you know?

Fenn gives slut, its giving ✨🧚🏽‍♀️💫✨, as Megan Thee Stallion said "I like to drink and I like to have sex" like that's literally him, and Zev gives like frat boy like, UGGHHHHH BITCHES BITCHES, I LOVE HAVING SEX, but like hes good in bed, like Zev gives 'I'll show you a good time' and he does, and slightly obnoxious about it

Imagine Zev has a girl over and they're fucking and someone complains to like be quiet and like he'll just start fucking louder💀💀

I dont know I think I need to write them together sometime imagine the absolute insanity that would come from Fenn and Zev in the same room

Cus Fenn has nearly every mf at the academy ready to get on their knees for him

But Zev, every time Zev comes up to the academy he immediately pulls

Already has a lady on his arm

Hes so easy💀

"Prince Zev can I have aa dance with you next🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺"

"Prince Fenn is it my turn🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺"

They'd have to fight them off with a stick💀💀