#the only problem is that once I’m in you’ll have a hell of a time getting rid of me

[thee-apple-of-my-eye]

Sweets

Summary: You and Draco were riding on the Hogwarts Express together, when Draco decided to quell your bad mood by feeding you some sweets.

Warnings: None? This is very fluffy lol. Reader is upset but what they’re upset about isn’t directly stated so think whatever you’d like. <3

A/N!!!: I love writing this dynamic for Draco so much and idk why. Pining with him is very sweet. He needed someone to balance out his insanity BAD. And I’m here to deliver !!!

DRACO X MALE READER ARGRGRGRGRGRGRGGRGRG

The Hogwarts Express was known to be a long, hectic ride due to all of the sights you’ll see, and the things that could happen during the trip. Nervous students, first years that just wouldn’t sit down even if Dumbledore himself popped up and begged them to—you get it.

But thankfully, Draco Lucius Malfoy didn’t have to deal with any of that! No, never. He always sat with the same person, every single ride, to and from Hogwarts. His dear childhood friend. Y/N L/N.

His calm, patient, quiet friend. Also known as the polar opposite of him.

Usually, Draco would be ranting about quidditch strategies, debating with you which ones were the best and which ones could work in theory.. or maybe he would be complaining about how much he hates Harry Potter, while you silently wondered why on earth he let someone bother him this much..—But your thoughts would inevitably be interrupted by him betting an insanely outrageous amount of Galleons on the idea that he’ll manage to one-up Potter this year.. and you’d always collect that money at the end of the year once he lost, as he begrudgingly handed it to you like a disappointed toddler.

However, today none of that was happening! No. Draco was staring at you, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed—Confusion was written all over his face as he tried to decipher why the hell you were being so quiet right now? Yeah, you’re usually quiet, but not silent..

Eventually, he grew tired of this. He nudged your side, earning a soft glare from you. He scoffed at that look, and he finally broke the silence—“What the hell is your problem???” He hissed out, his tone accusatory despite his genuine concern hiding beneath the surface.

His words only earned an eye roll from you, as you dismissed his concerns with a wave of your hand, “It’s nothing.”

His reaction mirrored your previous response, rolling his eyes at that obvious lie. “Oh, really? It’s ‘nothing’? You look like death himself.”

You shot him a harder glare for that one, and you adjusted yourself in your seat, sitting up as you leaned forward to finally give him a real conversation. “Oh, really? You have dark circles.”

He pursed his lips at that, giving you an unimpressed look. He recovered in usual Draco fashion, with a scoff and a snarky remark right back, “Oh, whatever. Mine are charming. Yours make you look like you crawled out of a grave.”

You shot him an unimpressed look right back for that recovery, and you lightly shoved him in his seat, evoking a yelp of surprising mixed with offense—“How dare you? You’ll ruin my robes..” you just rolled your eyes in irritation, propping your chin up against your palm as you kept your gaze on the window.

Draco’s gaze softened, now noting the fact that you were genuinely upset about something. He frowned, sitting up as he dusted himself up.

He knew pestering you wouldn’t help.. but what would?

Then it clicked.

Sweets.

Anyone that knew Y/N L/N knew that he had the biggest sweet tooth in all of Europe. There was no doubt.

The trolley passed by with a loud shuffle, and Draco was greeted by the woman running the stall. “Hello, dear. Would you like something from the trolley?”

He nodded, and he picked out some mini-cakes.. he himself found these things overbearingly sweet.. but every time he gave them to you, he swore he saw stars in your eyes.

The lady left, heading to the next group of people. Draco glanced over at you, and he nudged you lightly, his tone and overall demeanor uncharacteristically soft. “Hey.”

You turned around to him, expecting him to sneer or poke fun at someone.. but you were greeted with a fork pressed into your space, with a piece of cake at the end of it.

You raised an eyebrow, backing away to give yourself some personal space—“What’s this?”—you had to stop yourself from eyeing the food in front of you, tearing your gaze away from it and opting to focus on Draco instead. (Big back.)

Draco gave you a deadpan look, and he raised an eyebrow, pushing the sweet treat towards you. “What do you think it is? It’s a cake, genius. Eat it.”

You scoffed, pushing the sweet away. “Why did you get that? You always complain about hating them. What’s different now?”

He grew tired of this back and forth, and he shoved the fork in your mouth, “For Merlin’s sake—just eat the bloody thing!”

You were unable to protest with sugar coating your tongue, so you gave in, swallowing the food. You pulled away and scoffed at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you poked fun at his sudden thoughtful gesture. “What, are you going to feed me now? You’re acting like my mother.”

His cheeks dusted pink at the mere idea of feeding you, and he looked away for a moment out of pure embarrassment.. Then he finally looked back, answering your previous jab in a curt, sharp manner—“Maybe I will. Now, open.” His words almost felt like a scolding, his tone stern and on the brink of commanding.

You let out a smug sound of agreement, clearly mocking him to some degree. “Ah.. right, right.. ordering me around now? How new.” Despite your snarky comments, you let him feed you this delicious treat without much protest.

Draco was taken aback by your actions. He expected you to shake your head or swat the fork away—but no! You just went with it. That was it.

Draco stared for a few moments, slightly in shock.. before he regained his composure. He carefully lifted the cake up to his friend’s mouth, a soft blush still on his cheeks. “..Idiot..” He muttered softly..

You enjoyed this treat, quickly reverting back to your usual good mood.. while Draco’s gaze stayed locked onto your expressions, his own expression black, aside from the subtle blush dusting his cheeks. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and he fed you until the cake was gone.

When the trolly lady came back around, you got something for Draco this time! And the process continued..

TY FOR READING!!! ILYSM!!! GENUINELY I LOVE YOU !!! If you want me to make this a series PLEASEE lmk! Also, if I can improve on my writing LET ME KNOW! I genuinely want to get better because I love writing! Once again, tysm for reading. If you want to be added to the tag list js lmk in the comments <3

Taglist <3 — @isa1b2h3 , @zephyr-ig <3 <3

🍎

[incorrectbuckandeddie]

ABC can have this idea for free. Ravi POV episode because 1) Ravi deserves to be on the show more and I want to see some more of his background 2) I have an unhinged plot. Buddie goes canon near the end of the episode. There’s some big emergency and afterwards Ravi is sent to check on them. He walks in on Buck and Eddie kissing. Ravi doesn’t really react because as far as he’s aware they are married. Eddie and Buck however are acting extremely panicked because they are concerned he’s going to tell the whole team. I just really like the idea of this big moment for the fans being contrasted with Ravi being absolutely nonplussed about it. (Of course we get the Buddie view of the kiss in the following episode).

[cheriecoke]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI

fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words

“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss. 

he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live. 

cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.

he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.

“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.

“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.” 

a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.” 

“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."

normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks. 

levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”

you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice. 

levi makes his way towards the door. 

“levi?” 

he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t. 

but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought. 

you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.” 

he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting. 

he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter. 

no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle. 

levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess. 

their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say. 

his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first. 

“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.

armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”

levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red. 

he should've known.

“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.

“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."

levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you. 

“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”

eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice. 

or so he thought, anyway.

historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness. 

“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”

levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.

eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned. 

it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety. 

“how long have you been together?”

“does she actually like you?” 

“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.” 

“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.” 

“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.” 

"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.” 

“five—” 

a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.

levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.

even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.

he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.

[astrolook]

Is Your Dominant Planet Helping or Sabotaging You?

Ever feel like one planet in your chart is completely running your life? Like, no matter what, you always default to a certain way of thinking, reacting, or making the same questionable decisions? That’s your dominant planet at work. But is it making your life easier… or way harder than it needs to be? Let’s break it down.

How to Tell Which Planet is Dominant in Your Chart

Your dominant planet isn’t necessarily your Sun, Moon, or Rising—it’s the one with the most influence over your personality, choices, and bad habits. Some signs it’s the boss of your chart:

It’s in its home sign (like Venus in Libra or Mars in Aries) or exalted (like Moon in Taurus).

It has the most aspects (connections) to other planets.

It sits in a major house, like the 1st (identity), 10th (career), or 7th (relationships).

It rules your Sun, Moon, AND Rising (triple threat).

It’s the only planet of a certain element (Fire, Earth, Air, Water) in your chart.

If you have two or more dominant planets, congrats—you’re a complicated mess with conflicting instincts (but at least you’re interesting). You're like a cosmic onion.

Your Dominant Planet: The Good, The Bad, & The Ridiculous

☀️ Sun Dominant – The Main Character

Natural confidence—people notice you whether you want them to or not.

Charismatic and great at leading (or at least pretending to know what you’re doing).

Magnetic presence—people either admire you or feel deeply threatened.

Cannot handle being ignored for even five minutes.

Takes everything way too personally (the group chat going silent is not about you).

Life is one big performance, even when no one’s watching.

🌙 Moon Dominant – The Walking Emotional Rollercoaster

Emotionally intuitive—you just know when someone’s lying.

People trust you instantly (whether you wanted that responsibility or not).

Deeply caring—probably the “mom friend” of the group.

Gets attached too fast—if someone is nice to you once, they’re basically family.

Mood swings for absolutely no reason (and good luck explaining them).

Overthinks texts, social interactions, and why the barista looked at you weird.

🪐 Saturn Dominant – The Workaholic Who Can’t Relax

Disciplined and reliable—if you say you’ll do something, it gets done.

People respect you because you actually have your life together (or seem like you do).

Ages like fine wine—born a stressed-out child, but gets way cooler with time.

Takes responsibility for everything, even things that are not your problem.

Permanent resting serious face—people assume you’re judging them.

🔥 Mars Dominant – The Human Energy Drink

High-energy.

Assertive—you go after what you want and get it.

Quick reflexes—probably great at sports, fighting, or avoiding responsibilities.

Zero patience—slow walkers and buffering videos are your worst nightmare.

Occasional anger issues (“I’M NOT MAD, YOU’RE JUST WRONG”).

Thinks first, acts later… if at all.

🌿 Venus Dominant – The Flirt Who Gets Away with Everything

Naturally charming—people are drawn to you without knowing why.

Always looks effortlessly put together (even when you’re a mess inside).

Romantic AF—you love love.

Indecisive as hell—picking a restaurant is a 3-hour ordeal.

Can’t say no—people-pleasing is your toxic trait.

Might have a tiny shopping addiction (but hey, self-care).

☁️ Mercury Dominant – The Fast-Talker & Overthinker

Sharp, witty, and always has a comeback (even when you should probably keep quiet).

Absorbs information like a sponge—trivia night MVP.

Can talk to literally anyone about anything.

Mind never shuts up—sleep is a myth.

Either replies to texts instantly… or in three months, no in-between.

Talks way too fast—people need subtitles.

🌎 Jupiter Dominant – The Chaotic Optimist

Lucky AF—things somehow work out for you.

Big personality, big dreams, big everything.

Loves adventure—you’re always down for something wild.

Overestimates how much time, money, and luck you actually have.

Can’t resist saying yes to everything—major FOMO energy.

No impulse control—“Let’s book a trip right now.”

🔮 Neptune Dominant – The Daydreamer Who Might Be on Another Planet

Insanely creative—your imagination is unreal.

People find you mystical and intriguing (even when you’re just zoning out).

Deeply intuitive—you just know things before they happen.

Time management is a joke—was that 5 minutes or 5 hours? Who knows.

Has full-on fantasies about things that will never happen (but what if they did?).

Trusts people too easily (no, they will not "change" for you).

🖤 Pluto Dominant – The Intensity Overlord

Unshakable—life could crumble around you and you’d be fine.

Magnetic energy—people either worship or fear you.

Always transforming—rises from the ashes like a badass phoenix.

Suspicious of everyone (and usually right).

Constantly going through some kind of crisis.

Low-key enjoys dark, broody thoughts for fun.

So… Is Your Dominant Planet Helping or Sabotaging You?

Either way, you’re stuck with it. But the more you understand it, the more you can work with it instead of letting it run your life.

Want a full breakdown of your dominant planet & how it’s shaping your life? DM me with your birth details & email for a complete astrology reading! Look at my pinned post for pricing. 🔮✨

[jyeoulzhu]

can i request winter as a student council president and she always picks/target on reader to give them a detention or a warning over a smallest things like crooked tie? idk ideas from c.ai lol. thank you!

snoopy

summary . y/n keeps getting detention from student council pres winter over the dumbest shit, but turns out she just likes them.

pairing . kim minjeong x gender neutral reader

y/n had exactly three minutes of peace every morning before the student council president descended from the heavens (or, more accurately, the third-floor council room) to ruin their day.

three minutes. that’s all they got before—

“your tie is crooked.”

y/n closed their locker door to see none other than kim minjeong, aka winter, aka the demon personally assigned to make their life hell. she was standing there with her arms crossed, radiating authority and judgment, like a CEO about to fire an employee for breathing wrong.

before y/n could even protest, a neatly folded detention slip was slammed into their chest.

“bro.” y/n blinked. “are you serious right now?”

winter gave them a once-over, eyes filled with the usual disgust she reserved just for them. “rules are rules.”

y/n glanced down. their tie was, at most, 0.0000001 centimeters off-center.

“you’re joking.”

“i don’t joke.” winter clicked her pen, which was basically the school equivalent of cocking a gun.

y/n groaned, snatched the slip, and dramatically shoved it into their pocket. “you just like giving me detentions, don’t you?”

winter tilted her head like a malicious Victorian cat. “if you followed the rules, you wouldn’t be my problem.”

“oh yeah? what about last time? when you wrote me up because my shoelace was untied?”

“someone could have tripped over it.”

“and the time you gave me a warning for having my hands in my pockets?”

“poor posture. reflects badly on the school.”

“AND WHEN YOU THREATENED TO SUSPEND ME FOR BREATHING TOO LOUDLY!?”

winter blinked. “i don’t recall that one.”

y/n narrowed their eyes. “because i made it up.”

winter’s lips twitched.

SHE ALMOST SMILED.

ALMOST.

y/n’s brain short-circuited. had they just… witnessed a human emotion from the student council terminator??? no. impossible. she was built in a lab to maintain order and hand out unnecessary punishments.

winter smoothed out her blazer. “fix your tie before the next time i see you,” she said before disappearing like a well-dressed cryptid.

-

naturally, y/n did not fix their tie.

so when lunch rolled around, winter materialized at their table before they could even take a bite of their food.

she didn’t even say anything. just placed another detention slip in front of them like she was serving them divorce papers.

y/n slammed their hands on the table. “YOU’RE OBSESSED WITH ME.”

winter crossed her arms. “don’t flatter yourself.”

“then why am i the only one you terrorize? huh? why not mark or jeno? they break rules all the time!”

winter shrugged. “they’re not my problem.”

“but i am?”

winter smirked. “unfortunately.”

y/n blacked out for a second.

did minjeong just smirk at them?

no. no, no, no. that was illegal.

they squinted at her. “are you enjoying this?”

winter raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “you’ll never know.”

then she turned and walked away, hair bouncing with every step like she was in a shampoo commercial.

y/n stared after her.

there was no way.

no way in hell.

…but did minjeong like them???

-

detention.

y/n sat at the back of the empty classroom, arms crossed, waiting for their punishment.

the door creaked open, and in walked winter—alone.

y/n’s jaw dropped. “YOU’RE MY DETENTION SUPERVISOR!?”

winter set her clipboard down. “no. i’m here because i also have detention.”

y/n blinked. “for what? excessive micromanaging? tax fraud?”

winter gave them a look. “the teacher said i was ‘abusing my power.’”

y/n grinned. evil. “so even they think you have a personal vendetta against me.”

winter sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “just shut up and start cleaning.”

y/n smirked, picking up a broom. “yes, ma’am.”

for the next twenty minutes, they swept the classroom in silence—well, almost silence, if you ignored y/n humming the mario kart theme every time winter walked past them.

finally, as y/n wiped down the whiteboard, they caught winter staring at them.

like actually staring.

“what,” y/n said, raising an eyebrow.

winter looked away, suddenly interested in the floor. “nothing.”

y/n leaned against the desk. “you think i’m hot, don’t you?”

winter scoffed. “absolutely not.”

“you totally do.”

“shut up.”

“just admit it.”

“i’m giving you another detention.”

y/n laughed. “you literally can’t, you just got stripped of your power.”

winter gritted her teeth.

y/n took a step closer. “sooo,” they dragged out. “if you don’t actually hate me, then why do you keep picking on me?”

winter didn’t say anything. just glared at the floor.

y/n’s smugness disappeared.

“…wait.” they blinked. “do you actually like me?”

silence.

more silence.

and then—

”…shut up.”

y/n almost dropped dead.

THERE WAS NO WAY.

“OH MY GOD.” they gasped. “YOU DO.”

“no, i don’t.”

“YOU TOTALLY DO.”

“i literally don’t.”

y/n took another step forward, eyes gleaming. “so if i asked you out right now, you’d say no?”

winter looked like she was going through all seven stages of grief.

“…hypothetically,” she muttered. “i would say yes.”

y/n exploded internally.

but on the outside, they just grinned.

“cool,” they said, picking up their bag. “then i’ll pick you up after school.”

winter���s face was so red she looked like a walking fire hazard.

“SHUT UP.”

y/n just laughed.

as y/n walked toward the door, they couldn’t resist.

right next to the light switch, glowing in all its forbidden glory, was the big red emergency button.

the one that, when pressed, would blare an ungodly alarm across the entire school.

y/n stared at it.

it stared back.

and in that moment, their intrusive thoughts won.

click.

the room was immediately filled with the most ear-splitting, soul-crushing, brain-cell-destroying siren known to mankind.

winter whipped around so fast she could’ve gotten whiplash.

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” she shouted over the blaring noise.

y/n, tears in their eyes from laughter, bolted out the door. “SEE YOU AT OUR DATE, BABE!!!”

they made it five steps before—

“Y/N.”

y/n froze.

slowly, they turned around.

winter stood in the doorway, a fresh detention slip in hand, looking like she was about to end their bloodline.

“another. fucking. detention.”

y/n just grinned.

“worth it.”

[blissfullyapillow]

┃Genshin + HSR men as spiderman (+ your boyfriend)

₊˚⊹♡ Various x gn reader

₊˚⊹♡ wc: 7,189

₊˚⊹♡ warnings: Baizhu. Alhaitham’s part is suggestive but nothing explicit. Caelus’ part contains a ton of references to various things (one of them being your option to choose between Caelus or Stelle when you start HSR). Overall fluffy scenarios w/ your boyfriend (who is also Spiderman) :> 

₊˚⊹♡ Pillow Talks: Some parts are proofread others aren’t (for once) because I wasn’t feeling up to it. I intentionally put Baizhu under warnings it's not a mistake, I thought I was being funny doing that lol. Ngl Caelus’ part is my fav <3 !! I have a ton of drafts I’ll eventually complete, life is just a lot for me rn. I love you all ♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ ♡ <3

₊˚⊹♡ Masterlist

Alhaitham ✮ ๋ ࣭ ⭑ 〃

always has headphones on. Even when he’s fighting. He’s literally never seen without them

He’s been offered to do collaborations with many companies to make a model of headphones off the one’s he usually wears. He never accepts, unless it’s for his go to brand.

All villains know to leave spidey’s headphones alone. The last villain who broke his old pair didn’t make it out of the fight alive.

That wasn’t a joke.

Anyway, most people don’t ask about his headphones, rather reporters are always at their wits end since they can never get an interview out of him. Not even a brief still shot of him.

Hell, most people don’t even know what he sounds like.

For the most he’s a man of few words, but when he does speak? You’ll wish he hadn’t.

Very sassy. Has the best retorts and the most vile insults.

His suit is really cool too, and very practical.

He’s a college student when he isn’t spiderman. He’s scarily efficient at juggling his part time superhero duties along with his heavy college workload. Maybe it’s because he gets all his work done way in advance? Who knows.

He’s super gentle whenever he’s rescuing civilians. At most, he’ll say a word or two in response to their gratitude. Something along the lines of “yeah.” Or “It’s no problem” if you’re lucky. Most people don’t try to make conversation anyway. As stated before, he’s really good at dodging not only reporters but cameras in general.

So, imagine your surprise when he actually stops walking away after you’ve asked him what he’s listening to. You can’t see his face, but his spidery eyes widen comically in shock.

No one has ever asked him that before. You’d think someone would, but no one has.

So, he indulges you. “I’m not listening to anything at the moment. Sometimes I’ll have music playing, but for the most part I tend to use these just to block out noise. Plus, people tend to leave you alone when they see you have headphones on. It also makes for an adequate excuse to pretend I don’t hear people speaking to me.” Your mouth drops in pure shock at the fact that spiderman not only spoke to you, but he’s also.. very.. interesting.

Oh, he likes that look on your face. You can’t see it, but he has a huge smirk on his face underneath that mask.

Alhaitham recognized you from campus. Of course he was quick and efficient with moving you to safety before he took care of the danger, but he couldn’t return you to ground level until after the fight.

Speaking of fighting, he’s really good at it. His movements are calculated and precise. You made a mental note never to get on spider man's bad side as you watched him clock the villain square in the jaw, with no regard for whether they retain consciousness or not.

“I’ll see you around.” Is all he says now, before he web slings away. Wait, see you around? But he’s spiderman!

Little did you know that spiderman was your hot, intelligent classmate you had a raging crush on.

Lucky for you, it seems he may develop feelings for you too.

𓆩♡𓆪

“I thought I told you to leave your window unlocked? I’d hate to be spotted.” Alhaitham scolds you as you unlock your window for him, and he effortlessly slips into your abode.

“I’m sorry, but I like hearing your cute little knocks on my window. It’s the highlight of my day.” Alhaitham sighs, as if he’s annoyed, but in reality your words cause his heart to flutter.

Once he’s inside he slips off his mask and stretches his fit body. He catches sight of your lingering, fixed gaze. He smirks as he purposefully flexes his arms for you. Your head whips around, looking away as if he hadn’t caught your ogling.

“It seems like someone missed me.” His knowing words result in a click of your tongue. Yet, you find yourself melting in his warm embrace as he wraps his arms around you from behind. You’re a goner when he buries his face into the crook of your shoulder. He presses a kiss there.

As his lingering lips trail along your sensitive skin, you ask him your usual question. “What are you listening to?” He hums in contemplation as he thinks. “To the sound of your voice.” You suck in a breath, and he smiles.

That question is something of a routine between the two of you. You always ask him, ever since you learned of his identity during one of his canon events. His response will change depending on his mood, and it’s a good indicator of his current mood.

If he gives you an actual song, it’s an easy way to tell depending on the tone and meaning of the song. Otherwise, if he replies with “Nothing.” He’s either tired or on the verge of breaking. Usually it’s both, since he says the silence helps him think.

Now, if he responds with something sweet, like “The sound of your voice,” he either wants to cuddle or…

The firm press of his hand as it trails along your inner thigh is answer enough.

You feel heat warm the expanse of your body, but you pretend not to notice. “I thought you said class drained you earlier today?” You try to distract yourself with conversation. Alhaitham’s hand only travels up further. “It did. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, yet I was stuck listening to the professor droning on and on about a topic I’ve already read extensively about. Now, I can finally do what I’ve been wanting to do to all day long.” Alhaitham’s voice is rough, and his breath grazes the shell of your ear.

“Okay…” Is your eloquent response. You know if you turned around, you’d be met with that knowing smirk of his.

“Now, will you help me relax? Being spiderman is draining after all, and not being able to touch you the way you deserve all day has made me really tense.”

You have no objections when his fingers finally reach the place you’re craving it most.

🕷🕸 ๋࣭ ⭑⛓

ᐟᐟ☆ Caelus .✮𖦹‪‪ ₊˚

Radiates the most Gen Z vibes it’s insane

Up to date on everything and anything pop culture related. Whether it be old or new.

A theater went into a frenzy when fans realized spider man was in the same theater watching Five Nights at Freddy’s with them

He was upset since he had to slip out and watch the movie at home on Peacock instead.

Anyway, he’s a real sweetheart. He always makes time to stop and help older individuals cross streets, helps children find missing items, and he’ll even give some citizens a lift to a place they’re running late to.

Well, he stopped doing that last one after the incident. �� That was his second canon event.

He became spider man when a woman named Kafka purposefully had a mutated spider bite him. He doesn’t recall too much before that, and he’s not sure why he can’t, but that’s a part of his journey. To discover himself and put together pieces of his past.

He still occasionally runs into Kafka and her companions, but for the most part he’s still developing his own opinion of her.

He’s a ball of energy most days. Reporters love him since he’s always so receptive and open to their questions.

Yet, he has his moments. Some nights, if you look to the right building, you’ll spot a lone figure on top, staring into the vast night sky. On those nights, he imagines a life where he travels those skies, exploring what the universe has to offer. Maybe there are other planets out there? What if he could visit them, and experience intergalactic adventures?

Oh well. Maybe in another timeline. He isn’t a nameless traveler here after all.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, you’ve bumped into each other on countless occasions when he’s in his civilian form. Actually, you two are very close friends.

He’s debated with himself many times. Should he tell you the truth? Time and time again his answer was no, and for many reasons. One, Kafka clearly has a close eye on him, and he isn’t sure of her intentions yet. Two, he doesn’t want you needlessly worrying about him. Unfortunately, you already do.

So it honestly doesn’t come as a surprise when you stumble upon him during a particularly hard moment in time, and he lets it slip that he’s spiderman and he’a struggling.

Thankfully, you’re just the support he needed.

Now, he has a safe space. A person who feels like home in a place where he truly has none. And he’s eternally grateful to you for it.

As for you, he’s your personal ray of sunshine. You’re overjoyed you can play such a prominent role in his life, and you don’t love him any less for being spider man. If anything, you somehow worry less about him…?

It’s honestly hard when you watch him overcome many impossible odds. He even accumulates new powers every now and again! He’s really strong, mentally and physically, so it eases your worries at times.

Even if he does need a shoulder to lean on, as you often do, you’re more than happy to be that shoulder for him.

Honestly, it’s a good thing he has you. His future canon events look pretty… rough. Especially the one where he meets himself from a parallel universe. You know, the one where he’s a star instead of the sky.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Oh my gosh Name look! They even have my bat in the game!” Caelus happily swivels around in his chair to look at you, frantically pointing to his pc monitor all the while.

You look at the screen, and sure enough there’s a scarily accurate model of your superhero boyfriend in the game, currently performing a silly dance move.

“Ah.. I see..” Is your response. You really think it’s cool, but you want to tease him a bit. You struggle to contain your grin when he pouts at your lack of enthusiasm. “I thought you’d think it was cool….” You can only chuckle as you run soothing fingers through his soft locks.

“I do sweetheart, I do.” Your words make him visibly light up, and he practically jumps out of his chair to wrap his arms around you.

“Speaking of, I have something else I want to show you…”

Que a fun midnight outing on top of the tallest building overlooking the whole city.

“Wow.. this is beautiful..” Your eyes shine as bright as a dying supernova as you gaze upon the beautiful landscape before you.

Caelus is beaming with pride, glad he was able to surprise you like this.

“Yeah, I stumbled upon this view after a particularly hard battle.” He hums in content as he leans back, pulling you into him.

You rest your head against him, his chest a comfortable pillow.

You can feel his steady heartbeat beneath your ear, and it’s a soothing melody.

“Thank you for sticking by me all this time.” The words are a gentle caress against the shell of your ear, yet they cause your heart to ache.

“You don’t need to thank me for that, silly. I love you, and when you love someone and they’re good for you, you stand by them. No matter what. Yeah?” You gently pat his chest.

He smiles.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent again, and a comfortable atmosphere wraps around the two of you like a warm blanket right out of the dryer.

That is, until he decides to open his mouth.

“Don’t get too comfortable. I might just push you off.”

…

He looks at you to gauge your reaction.

Absolute horror is written on your features.

He loves it. It sends an electrifying thrill through him; he loves to tease you too.

“You’re getting too out of hand with these jokes of-“

His lips steal the rest of your words, and you allow it.

The city paints a magical backdrop for your moment of intimacy.

🕷🕸 ๋࣭ ⭑⛓

Jing Yuan ⁞ ⟡ ⚡︎ ♡⸝⸝ 🕷 

This spider man is always accompanied by his cat, Mimi.

He rescued her during a particularly rough encounter. He tried to send her off after ensuring she was safe with authorities, but she refused to leave his side. Now, he already had a soft spot for cats, so it was a no brainer to him

Mimi has accompanied him ever since, and she even has her own little mask and everything.

Little does he know that the ‘cat’ he saved was really just another one of the smuggled exotic animals those crooks tried to sneak into the city. Mimi will no longer fit in that backpack of his in a few months time.

He’s really lazy, honestly. He calls it conserving energy, but really he will only intervene when it’s called for or if the situation is rapidly turning dire

He has many admirers. Pictures of blurry glimpses of his suit sell for hundreds, if not thousands of dollars, online

So, so many fan edits of him. And he’s seen ‘em all. He’s secretly really smug about it, but he keeps that to himself

He has a commanding presence, and an air of elegance about him. It almost feels like his fighting is an art of sorts. It’s fascinating to see the creative ways he’ll use his webs to get the job done.

Mimi has plushies, courtesy of collaboration with spiderman.

He bought the pre-orders for her plush and a few more when the official drop released

So, how did you end up with a man like Jing Yuan? Gorgeous, handsome Jing Yuan who's also a renowned general?

Simple. You're his personal alarm clock.

No. Literally. You were asked to wake him up after he fell asleep on the job again, as everyone else had grown tired of the task, and that was the beginning of an.. interesting dynamic.

The best part about it? One day you arrived a bit earlier than your usual time to wake him up, only to find the infamous spider man frantically urging Jing Yuan’s cat, Mimi, into a backpack.

Long story short, now you not only have to deal with waking him up, but you also have to deal with a clingy boyfriend who isn't afraid to his webs against you

𓆩♡𓆪

“Jing Yuan! I told you, this meeting is important and it’s imperative that-“

He blatantly ignores you as he webs the door shut, and now you’re stuck with him in his office.

“Mhm. I understand. Now come here, I miss you.” His stupid smile makes your heart race as he opens his arms, welcoming you in.

Ah, what the hell.

You all too easily bend to his whims. You quickly find yourself in his arms, snuggled against his warm body.

“That’s much better sweetheart. See? This isn’t so bad is it?” You abhor his teasing, yet all the same it sends a thrill through you.

“Shut up. I better not get in trouble because of you.” You sigh. “No one would dare say anything to you. If anyone ever does, I will personally tend to the matter.” His voice is tense, along with his statement, but all you feel is his thick hair tickling your cheek as he nuzzles his head against you.

A goofy smile spreads across your lips, and soon you forget all about the meeting as you enjoy each other’s embrace.

An adorable sound comes from Mimi, lounging somewhere in his office you assume. The usual.

“By the way, are we still on for dinner later?” Your question evoked a chuckle out of Jing Yuan.

“I wouldn’t miss dinner with you for the world.” “Not even if your spidey duties call?” Your quip causes an adorable pout to form on his lips.

“My ‘spidey duties’ can wait until I’m full and satiated. You mean more to me than you know, my sweet angel.” His words warm not only your heart, but your soul.

You completely lose track of time in his arms.

So it comes as quite a shock when obnoxious knocking can be heard on his office door. You know, the one that’s currently webbed shut?

“Jing Yuan!!”

Ah, Diviner Fu. She knows all too well that you’ve failed yet again to lure Jing Yuan out of his office.

“Ah, looks like dinner has arrived sooner than we expected sweetheart.” You squeal when he suddenly sits up with you still in his arms.

He uses his webs to grab his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as Mimi hops in, used to this ordeal.

“Remember to hold on tight, okay?” He murmurs the words against the shell of your ear, before he slips on your own little mask over your face. Just as a precaution, though he’s really good at staying hidden whenever he’s with you.

“Off we go.”

And with that, you two sling out of the window of his office, leaving an exasperated Fu Xuan behind.

🕷🕸 ๋࣭ ⭑⛓

♡ ┃ Kaedehara Kazuha ‧.°˖➴

He is the amazing spider man

Like, he’s the ultimate spider man. He’s kind yet deadly, and very friendly.

He’s as swift as the wind, and he actually travels with a sword. You’ve never seen Spiderman incorporate sword play in with his webs? Well, you’re in luck! Kazuha does this at a masterful level. He made it into a sort of art form as well. At the end of his fights he’ll always create beautiful imagery using his sword, carving out complicated shapes and scenes with his webs. It’s kind of like a signature of his

He’s pretty good at balancing his civilian and hero life. Although he may get caught up with things if unexpected incidents occur, which lets be honest, it happens all the time when you’re spider man

He’s genuinely so sweet, and it’s easy to see through his actions. The public loves him. He has loads of admirers.

After a very traumatic incident involving a close friend of his, he experienced a period of grief and depression

He got back on his feet eventually, and he awakened new powers within him! Well, that would be the only explanation for why he was suddenly able to use electricity during combat with a particularly strong villain

Not only does he use a sword but now he has the ability to wield electricity?

Once word of spider man’s new powers spread, the number of crimes that were committed went down drastically. Literally. Statistically crime rates decreased by 25% the following week. 25%. Your usual run of the mill people were too afraid to do anything after witnessing the devastating beating Kazuha gave to a particular individual

To be fair, he was late to your date because of them. He wasted no time, defeating that villain within mere seconds before frantically webbing away to meet you

Speaking of dates, Kazuha enjoys going on many dates with you.

From indoor cozy dates to public outings, typically walks through nature, Kazuha’s favorite past time is the time he spends with you

He often leaves you handwritten notes before he leaves, ranging from eloquent poetry of his feelings for you, to short blurbs of how your eyes make it physically impossible for him to focus on what you’re saying. (He felt bad because he got lost in your eyes while you were describing your Christmas decorating plans to him)

Overall, Kaedehara Kazuha is a model spider man. Kind and caring, yet swift and fatal when the situation needs him to be.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Kazuha, I told you I forgive you already!” You giggle despite your exasperation. Kazuha disregards your statement as he places fleeting, soft kisses on your person.

He starts with your hand. He holds your hand delicately, treating you as if you’re porcelain. He places a kiss to the back of your hand before his lips slowly trail up your arm.

Your heart melts at the tender gesture, all the while your body lights aflame with his burning gaze. His piercing orbs hold your gaze as his lips make their leisure ascent.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him even if you willed it.

“I promised you I wouldn’t be late to our date this week, but I was. You have my sincerest apologies, my love.” You feel his lips move as he murmurs the words against your skin.

“No need to be all formal. We’ve been together for how long now?” You murmur the words in embarrassment, as Kazuha’s lips now brush along your neck, teasing you.

“Hmm.. if I recall correctly, today would make five years correct?” You nod your head, yet your eyes drift shut as Kazuha playfully teases the skin of your neck with his teeth.

“Y-Yeah.. so..” Your mind is blank. You completely forgot the point you were trying to make.

You have a feeling that was his goal all along.

His lips finally reach their destination; his eager lips meet your parted ones.

You groan as he draws you closer, placing a firm hand on the back of your head. His kiss almost feels a bit desperate; his lips mold with yours in perfect sync as his free hand explores the expanse of your body.

When he finally parts from you, you take desperate gasps of air. His state isn’t much better; his lidded gaze roams your body as he takes deep breaths.

“Kazuha…” “hmm?” He smiles, a lazy, slow smile, and you know you’re not letting him leave any time soon.

“I.. um.. oh! I was going to say, before you rudely distracted me..” He chuckles at that, tracing the contour of your face with a finger as you continue to scold him. “It wasn’t your fault you were late. The police force needed backup and-“ His lips capture yours again.

You reluctantly press against his chest, gently pushing him away.

You pout.

He winks at you.

“I know, but it still took away from our precious time together. I wanted to make it up to you by arriving early today, but I wasn’t able to fulfill that desire.” He sighs, and his finger moves from your face down to your neck, lower to your collarbone.

“I promise you it’s okay, Kazuha. I understand. Although, if you really want to make it up to me…” This time, your gaze is the heated one as you skillfully unravel his ponytail.

He sucks in a breath at your action. “I have another desire that you most certainly can fulfill.”

“Ah, I like the sound of that.”

Lucky for you, he is more than able to fulfill that desire of yours.

🕷🕸 ๋࣭ ⭑⛓

‧₊˚ ┊Shikanoin Heizou ⚖✮⋆˙✦

Public menace #1

He drives the police force crazy because he always solves all the cases before they can get to the bottom of it. He does so not only as spider man, but as his civilian self too.

He can be a bit of a flirt when he has the mask on.. well, ‘a bit’ is an understatement, but he doesn’t just flirt with everyone!

He really only flirts with you, honestly, yet you reject him time and time again. He was a bit puzzled, since he knows how flustered you get when he flirts with you without the mask. Maybe it’s because you don’t know it’s him? He’ll have to test that theory

Using his detective skills he quickly deduces that it was because you have a crush on him. Him. Not spider man.

He knows of your intense loyalty, so of course you wouldn’t entertain his flirting, even if the individual flirting with you is the spider man.

Once he figured that out, oh how much fun he has teasing you as spider man

He’ll use his webs to get around quickly and restrain his enemy, but in combat? He prefers to use his fists. He’s quick with it too. He’s Shikanoin ‘left, right, goodnight’ Heizou.

So, whenever he does use his webs in combat, you know he’s going against a formidable foe 

He’s super sweet to fans. Signatures, autographs, everything. On the sly though, when you still didn’t know he was spider man, he kissed an autograph he signed specifically for you before he handed it to you.

There was a visible mark left behind, and although you were annoyed you still kept the autograph (that you didn’t ask for)

When he finally revealed his identity to you, you were simultaneously livid and not surprised; You know of Heizou’s tendency to tease

He planned for the whole reveal to be super romantic and everything, and by the end of it you two became a couple.

You are the ones who create the iconic spider man kiss. He’s upside down, holding a handwritten confession of love, not a rose, that you cautiously take from his hand. In the letter he explicitly stated that spider man and the man you were currently crushing on are the same people. Following that was a very romantic declaration of his feelings for you.

When you looked up from reading the letter, you found yourself face to face with Shikanoin Heizou instead of the spider’s mask. The shock on your face was too adorable to ignore, so he kissed you whilst hanging upside down.

It was an… interesting experience, to say the least.

Would you repeat it? Absolutely.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Heizouuu….” Your whine is music to his ears.

He nuzzles his head further into your chest, and his sigh is one of contentment.

“Yesss..?” This time, you’re the one sighing, except it’s one of annoyance rather than content.

“I’ve needed to use the bathroom since five minutes ago.” “And I told you you’re welcome to. I will wait as my warm, loving arms ache for your return.” You scoff at his dramatic use of words.

“Thanks, Heizou, but how could I possibly go to the bathroom when your body is literally tangled with mine?” This question gives him pause, even though it really shouldn’t.

Said body adjusts a bit, but he makes no move to get off of you.

You’re currently lounging in bed, doing nothing really. Just enjoying Heizou’s company. It was nice until you had to use the bathroom, and with the way Heizou’s body is lying on you, legs entangled and arms wrapped around you, there’s no possible way for you to escape.

His head remains on your chest, but he looks up at you now.

“How about a deal? If you can solve this riddle-“

“Shikanoin Heizou.” 

…

“My apologies.”

He quickly moves off of you, and you make a beeline for the bathroom.

You’re not surprised when he’s on the other side of the door the moment you open it.

“Sometimes, Heizou, you just…” You struggle to find the words to properly express yourself.

“I just..?” He prompts you, guiding you back to the comfort of your shared bed.

You finally find the words you were searching for as you both resume your previous position, except this time Heizou’s head is buried against the crook of your neck.

“You just.. fail to surprise me, really. Which is funny, since you’re someone who’s full of them.” His body shakes against yours as he laughs at your bold statement.

“Ah, my lovely partner knows me so well. Honestly, how did a detective like me get so lucky? I believe that���s the biggest mystery of all.” His words fill you with warmth; they effectively morph your feelings of affectionate annoyance into a feeling of immense joy.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You do know I’m the one who got lucky, right?” You chuckle when he gasps, as if the very concept itself is absurd.

“I would refute that hypothesis of yours, but I believe it would only cause this conversation to continue in circles. So, I propose that we are both the luck ones. Do you agree?”

You feel his smile and hear the affection in his voice as his lips brush along your skin.

“Yeah.. I agree.” “Perfect.”

And with that, a comfortable silence fills the room once more.

It’s a relaxing evening, spent with your very loving and very dramatic boyfriend.

🕷🕸 ๋࣭ ⭑⛓

Welt Yang ﹕⸝⸝ *:･ﾟ✮

“Wait, spider man is an old man!?” Yeah and there’s a literal dinosaur who dons the mask in another universe. Your point?

Lol jokes aside, Welt is one of, if not the most, powerful spider man. I mean, he can literally manipulate gravity.

He’s also a huge nerd.

He always brings his cane along with him when he fights, so the enemy tends to underestimate him, thinking he’s close to retirement and should just give up the whole ‘hero act’ already. Honestly, maybe he should, but that day isn’t today.

If he gets particularly annoyed by comments from his opponents, he’ll just get rid of ‘em. via a mini black hole of sorts. It’s super effective.

He’s actually very fond of making jokes and semi-horrible puns. They make you laugh though. Others? Not so much.

Anyway, he’s very reserved and he won’t stick around for reporters to interview him. He’ll just give the necessary information needed for authorities to take over, and in the blink of an eye he’s gone.

For his day job, he’s an animator. A well renowned one too. He’s very casual about it though, and he doesn’t see it as something deserving of praise.

He’s taken on a young talent who’s a blank page, in the process of writing a story of their own.

You’re the one who finds out Welt’s well kept secret. He didn’t plan on revealing his identity to you, as he felt it was his burden to bear and he would hate to make you a target.

He’s experienced many battles and has faced numerous foes, so he’s very wise and experienced. He’s faced scenarios where his morals come into play, and that’s something he’s not fond of. He rather preserve his integrity and do things in a way that aligns with his inner values. He’s been granted many opportunities to do things in an underhanded manner, yet he has never taken that  opportunity.

𓆩♡𓆪

“Please please please!” You jump up and down in innocent joy, but the man before you pinches the bridge of his nose.

“No.”

“Why not? Please! I promise this is my last time asking.” You plead with him, moving to hold onto his arm.

“That’s the exact same line you use every time.” “It is not!” You retort.

“You said the same thing yesterday.”

“Welt, please!” Now you fix him with a pleading look, a look you know he can’t resist.

“Name, my ability to manipulate gravity is a powerful one that comes with great responsibility. It shouldn’t be used as a measly… ahem..” His cheeks take on a pink hue as he coughs into his fist.

You’ve pressed yourself against him, your head tilted as you gaze at him with that look in your eyes.

“…this is the last time.” His gruff response brings you to life, your eyes alighting with joy as you remove yourself from him.

He misses the warmth of your body, but your smile provides him with a permeating warmth that is different, but comforting all the same.

“You always say that.” Your bratty response irks him. In an instant your world is flipped upside down as your feet are lifted off the floor.

“Yay! Thank you Welt.” He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed when you’re doing silly little flips as your body floats in the air.

This has become a regular occurrence for you. Occasionally, when you’re in the mood to be a bit silly, you’ll ask Welt to use his gravity manipulation to suspend you in air.

He was opposed to it, but eventually you wore him down. Now, he agrees to give you a few moments of fun, although sparingly.

His gaze is soft as he watches you enjoy the moment with childlike glee, before you’re gently lowered to the ground once more.

“There. Satisfied?” His voice is rough and his gaze won’t meet yours, but his heart pounds in his chest. You really are too cute.

“Yes! Thank you, and I’m sorry I keep pestering you about it… but… I appreciate it.” You saddle up beside him and wrap your arms around him in a grounding hug.

He smiles.

“Don’t worry about it.” Is his simple response. He presses a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, before he rests his on top of yours.

Fwip!

You glance behind you when you hear the sound, just in time to see the door to your shared bedroom close shut. Your eyes study the webs on the door handle before you swivel around to face Welt.

His cheeks are tinted pink once more, but he meets your curious gaze.

“Let’s.. enjoy each other’s company for the remainder of the day.” His words cause your own face to heat up, but a sly smirk soon presents itself on your lips.

“Can’t get enough of me, can you?” You relish the look he fixes you with, and you willingly follow his lead to your neatly made bed.

“On the contrary, with that attitude of yours I get more than my fill of you.” His words are contradictory to his actions, since he’s pulling you closer as his lips seek yours.

You smile when his lips finally meet yours.

🕷🕸 ๋࣭ ⭑⛓

‧₊˚ ┊Baizhu ⚕ *: ♥

With swift and deadly attacks that require minimal movement, Baizhu is always quick to subdue the enemy

Some days are harder than others for him, as he has a chronic illness. He still gets the job done, and he’s always advocating for others in a similar situation as him. He doesn’t reveal much to the media, but he does like to tell anyone who may hear “If I can be spiderman, then I know you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Instead of a spider biting him it was a snake. A talking snake no less. Her name is Changsheng, and she travels with him almost all the time.

Many ask to pet Changsheng. He turns down most requests but on rare occurrences he may let an individual do so (mainly children)

Has miraculous healing powers. He’s also a good sport at taking heavy hits, but he can only handle so much. Still, he’s stronger than you’d think, and he’s great at sporting others back to health. It’s almost like they were never sick at all once Baizhu tended to them. Unfortunately, his illness always seems to flair after he does so…

Speaking of, he’s well loved, Dr. Baizhu. He literally has a 5 star rating and everyone raves about him. You would think he would limit clients since he constantly gets a large influx of them, but he’s too kind to do anything of the sort.

Sometimes you have to scold him and force him to coax him into taking it easy; he tends to take on a bit more than he can handle.

He’ll say cheesy things like “You’re the remedy I’ve been searching for all my life. Most certainly.” Whenever you two are alone and spending quality time together. You can only smile when he tells you these things; He’s too cute to feign annoyance with.

He’s immune to poison. Don’t ask why he just is. (It’s totally not an added benefit of a contract he made)

𓆩♡𓆪

Your fingers gently scrub the area, and a noise akin to the sound of a satisfied cat purr is heard.

You bite your lip as you try to contain your smile, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it anyway.

You’ve finished lathering Baizhu’s hair in the floral conditioner. He allows you to finish the process of rinsing his hair, and the result is satisfactory. His hair, which now has the floral scent of the conditioner, has a renewed sheen to it.

“Your hair is gorgeous, Baizhu. Well taken care of too.” You hum, guiding him as you both move to sit down.

You sit on the couch, and have him sit in front of you on the floor.

You gently dry his hair as he leans back into you. It causes you to get a few droplets of water on your person but that’s insignificant to you.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen your boyfriend so relaxed. He’s been overworking himself again, not only with his job as a doctor but with his spiderman man duties.

You insisted on a self care day since he has the day off, and you prayed people would stay in line today so he wouldn’t have to suit up.

It seems your prayers were answered; it’s now late evening and the orange hue of the sky is slowly morphing into a starry night sky.

The streets remain peaceful today.

A groan from Baizhu draws your attention.

He’s looking up at you with furrowed brows. “I thought I told you to stop worrying so much about me.” You ‘tsk’ at the audacity of his claim, opting to flick his forehead. It was a light flick, but he acts as if you’ve scorched him.

He hisses. He sounds like Changsheng.

You giggle.

“I know you aren’t telling me to stop worrying.” You shake your head in dismay, albeit a knowing smirk is on your lips.

“Name, I know I am not one to talk but I promise you I’ll take better care of my mental wellbeing. You have my word.” He places a comforting hand on your knee. The touch brings warmth to your skin.

“Promise?” Your voice is quiet. It sounds small. You’d be surprised if he even heard you.

You open your mouth to repeat your question, sure he hadn’t heard you, but he speaks before you can voice the question once more.

“I promise.” His statement is firm. When you look into his golden snake-like eyes, they’re full of life. Determination emanates from their intense gaze.

You believe him.

“Okay, good. I hate to see you like that, you know…” His gaze softens at the obvious concern on your face. He understands it comes from a place of love, so he only nods in understanding.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He reaches for your hand, still a bit wet from washing his hair, yet he places a kiss to your palm nonetheless.

With that, you resume your task.

You take your time braiding his hair. It’s relaxing, and the diffuser you have going only adds to the calm atmosphere.

As soon as you finish braiding his hair Baizhu moves. It startles you, but you’re soon put to ease when he sits beside you.

His arms wrap around you, and he rests your head on his shoulder. Your eyes fall shut as you breathe in the floral scent of his hair.

“Thank you.” He whispers the words, and you feel the soft press of his lips on your forehead. You feel the same touch on your nose, your cheek, your eyelids, until they finally press against your lips.

When he pulls away, you respond with a thank you of your own. He seems taken aback by your words, but then the sweetest smile lifts his lips.

“You are quite welcome.”

🕷🕸 ๋࣭ ⭑⛓

♡. Blade 🗡⭒⚠︎︎ ⛓°˖ 

He is the second spiderman in Caelus’s verse

He honestly feels as if the whole Spiderman role is a curse rather than a blessing, but he still plays the role nonetheless.

When he feels like it

Most people only know of Caelus as spiderman, but once Blade also took on the role there were rumors of a darker, more sinister spiderman seen webbing from building to building during the late hours of the night

Of course Caelus had to investigate said rumors, and that led to a one on one encounter with Blade and.. Kafka?

Long story short Blade begrudgingly helps Caelus out when he’s in a jam, but for the most part he keeps to the shadows and does his own thing. Whether what he does is morally ‘right or wrong’ doesn’t concern him.

He has the symbiote, Venom, and he absolutely hates it. Yet, well, here they are.

There was an incident when things got a little.. tense between Caelus and Blade. Before the situation escalated Kafka was able to get Blade under control.

Overall he doesn’t really do too much as ‘spiderman,’ but you’ll definitely have a chance at catching him beat the absolute shit out of a robber in a dark alley, their cries for help muffled as they’re eaten alive by the symbiote :D

Unfortunately for Blade, Kafka isn’t particularly fond of him eating people, due to the hassle of keeping it on the down-low. He’s supplied with massive amounts of chocolate to substitute for the people he was firmly told he can no longer consume, unless it’s a dire situation.

Blade truly sees his life as a misfortune, especially during moments where Caelus coerces him into helping him out. He’s really under no obligation to help, but something about Caelus persuades him to comply (albeit begrudgingly).

They make a great duo! Surprisingly. Like, Caelus can already be a hard hitter, when he chooses to use his bat, but add Blade into the mix? Whoever they’re fighting is not surviving that fight.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your hands slip under his shirt, cold against the warm skin of his abdomen. You trace the outline of his many scars; they feel rough against the delicate pads of your fingers. You move closer to Blade, burying your head into the crook of his neck.

You can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against your own; it soothes you.

He moves, his hands slipping under your shirt as well, tracing the curve of your spine.

“You really are such a handful…” He murmurs the words, quiet and emitting a gentle warmth. You shiver from his gentle touch, cold fingers leisurely teasing your skin.

You debate speaking up, to let him know you’re awake, but you quickly decide against it when he speaks once more.

“No one could compare to you. When I’m with you, I feel a warmth I haven’t felt in a long, long time…” Blade’s uncharacteristically honest words cause your heart to swell.

You struggle to contain your smile. You feel him shift closer to you, and soon a pair of surprisingly soft lips are pressed against your temple.

He remains silent now. Enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, running his hands along your skin.

“I love you too.” You finally say. He startles for a moment, and it makes you giggle. When you pull your head away from his neck you’re barely able to make out the sight of his flushed cheeks before he shoves your face back to its previous position.

He says nothing, but the smile on his face says all the things he fails to put into words.

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 15

˗ˏˋ ambushed ˎˊ˗

"You have no idea how you ended up being the middlewoman for Jungkook’s surprise birthday party. You also had no clue who Yeji’s brother was—except, apparently, you did. And now, on top of everything, there’s a hot teaching assistant who seems to be interested in you."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 7,8k.

content: being unwillingly (not really) recruited for jungkook's surprise bday party, tae being a hater as usual, hobi as a mediator, yoongi gives 0 fucks about everything, discovering who Yeji's brother is, meeting new people, library encounters and naughty texts.

✧ author's note ✧

OKAY SO. Here’s Chapter 15.

You absolute goblins hit the last goal in less than 24 hours, so naturally, I’m raising the bar—because I refuse to be outmaneuvered like this. Chapter 16 is already in progress, but you better give me enough time to finish and proofread it, or we’re gonna have problems.

Also, I’m out of town this weekend, which means I probably won’t be writing at all. Consider it my three-day break. SO TAKE IT SLOW. BREATHE. WE WILL REACH THE GOAL EVENTUALLY.

Anyway, this chapter was ridiculously fun to write because I finally got to have Y/N exchange numbers with Hobi and Tae. Also, Jungkook’s birthday is September 1st, and I’m keeping that canon, so… her getting roped into this party planning mess is hilarious to me (except, actually, not really—because free drinks. And let’s be real, I’d also agree if someone covered my tab for the night).

ALSOOOOO. New character unlocked! What are our thoughts on the TA? You’ll see Jungkook’s perspective next chapter. :) (Reminder: we’re dealing with limited POVs here, so read between the lines. It’s your job to play detective. These two are unreliable narrators, as we all know.)

Mwah mwah, Kiki off.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

College syllabi should come with a warning label: May cause extreme boredom and online shopping addiction.

Your cursor hovers between two different scented candles on your screen—both equally wrong for Emma's birthday. 

Fresh ocean waves. 

How is that not a standard candle scent? 

You've scrolled through seventeen different websites and the closest you've found is "Sea Breeze" (too generic) and "Ocean Mist" (which, according to reviews, smells like "bathroom cleaner with a hint of desperation").

Professor Herrington drones on about post-modern literary theory, his monotone voice basically putting everyone to sleep.

Except Jimin, because next to you, his pen scratches across his notebook, meticulous notes forming in his neat handwriting. 

Thank god for Jimin. 

Your own notebook sits open with exactly three words written at the top: "Post-modern lit is..." The sentence remains unfinished because, well, you stopped paying attention approximately forty-two minutes ago.

Your phone buzzes against your thigh. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.

What fresh hell is this? you wonder, sliding it out just enough to peek at the notifications.

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  created a new conversation

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  named the conversation "kafka my beloved"

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗  added You to "kafka my beloved"

You blink at the notification. What the actual fuck?

You open the chat under your desk, finding only Yoongi's contact among two other +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 s.

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚋

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚒 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 :)

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚢/𝚗! 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚋𝚒 :) 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢.

You stare at your phone, momentarily confused. Jungkook's birthday? Since when are you involved in anything Jungkook-related that doesn't involve slamming doors, fighting over Griffin, or... well, the other thing that nobody knows about?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚖𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚖 𝚒 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍

A pause, and then:

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝

 +𝟏 (𝟗𝟏𝟕) 𝐗𝐗𝐗-𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐗 : 𝚒’𝚖 𝚝𝚊𝚎𝚑𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚝𝚠… 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠

Ah, of course. Mr. Artistic-and-Condescending himself. You quickly save his contact as "𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨" and the other as "𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃".

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎??

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚍?? 

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝚜𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚋𝚘𝚢, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚒’𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢???

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢! 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢!

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎! 🥳

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚜 𝚒 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍… 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚟𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝? 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝟷.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚒 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎... 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜?? 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘??

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢! 🎂

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠?

There's a noticeable pause in the conversation, and you glance up to make sure Professor Harrington hasn't caught you texting. He's still gesturing wildly about stream of consciousness, completely oblivious.

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜

��𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚊𝚝 𝙱𝙽

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗? 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝟾𝚙𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚝 𝟻

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚒’𝚖 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚛 🙃

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝! 🎉

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛. 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎.

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 ^

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 (𝚢𝚘𝚞) 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝟾 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢? 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

Another pause, longer this time. You can practically feel the tension through the screen.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕! 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 😊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 "𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝" 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚒𝚊?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚊?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚙?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎’𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙, 𝚢/𝚗! 💫

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚍𝚔

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚆𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖𝚖…

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 💕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚍𝚌 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 ☺️

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜? 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖?

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚜.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜! 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 ��𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢-𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢???

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊?

Your cheeks heat up as you remember exactly how you know Jungkook likes vanilla—specifically, the vanilla-scented body wash you were wearing the night you ended up in bed with him. 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜�� 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜???

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚐𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝟽𝚝𝚑! 🍪

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎!

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚘

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝... 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜?

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘! 🥳

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚒𝚝’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝟷𝟻 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘 𝚒’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚜𝚘

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝? 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛?

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚕𝚎𝚝’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 😕

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛!

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎,𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚔 🙄

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞𝚙 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚝𝚟

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍.

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚢/𝚗! 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 🙏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚙

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜! 📚

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖

You bite your lip, thinking about exactly how "personal" things have gotten between you and Jungkook in the three weeks since you moved in. 

If they only knew.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚑𝚞𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝! 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢! 🎉

𝐓𝐚𝐞🎨: 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬🎧: 𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛?

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢💃: 𝚢𝚎𝚜! 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘! 🚀

You lock your phone just as Professor Harrington calls on someone in the front row to analyze a passage. Jimin gives you a side-eye that clearly says "I saw you texting the whole time," but he slides his notes closer to you anyway.

Now you have two birthday gifts to figure out, and somehow you need to convince Jungkook—the guy you've been having no-strings-attached sex with for the past few weeks—to go to a restaurant without making it weird or suspicious.

And apparently there's some mysterious birthday trauma you're not allowed to know about.

Great. Just great.

You click back to the birthday options for Emma. At least one decision should be simple.

When the lecture finally ends, you let out a yawn so massive it feels like your jaw might unhinge. The kind of yawn that makes your eyes water and your whole body stretch like a cat waking up from a seventeen-hour nap.

"Could you at least pretend to pay attention?" Jimin taps you on the head with his pen. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to be annoying. Like a woodpecker with perfect hair and a conscience.

You rub your eyes, smudging whatever mascara you bothered to put on this morning. "What for? I'll just jam it all in my head two weeks before the exam and I'll pass it. Always works."

"Until it doesn't," he says with that little smile that makes you want to both hug him and flick his forehead. The smile that says he's judging you but in the nicest possible way.

"Has worked for the past two years," you counter, shoving your mostly empty notebook into your bag. "I'm basically a professional at academic procrastination at this point."

Jimin slides his laptop into its case with the precision of someone who actually paid for their electronics themselves instead of guilting their parents into it like you did. He zips it closed and slings the strap across his body, adjusting it so it sits perfectly against his hip.

And then he just... stands there. In front of your table. Waiting.

It's such a small thing. Stupid, really. 

But as you fumble with your pens and shove crumpled papers into your bag, you can't help but notice how he's just there. Not rushing ahead with a quick "see you later" thrown over his shoulder. Not walking out with other classmates while you're left scrambling to catch up.

He just waits. Patiently. Drumming his fingers against the edge of the desk in a rhythm that probably matches whatever song is stuck in his head today. His eyes wander around the lecture hall, watching other students file out in chattering groups.

You've only known Jimin for what—three and a half weeks?—since the semester started, but somehow he's already figured out this thing that matters to you without you having to say it. 

The waiting. The not leaving first.

A smile tugs at your lips before you can stop it. You try to hide it by ducking your head, but when you glance up, Jimin's looking down at you with one eyebrow quirked in question.

"Let's go to Jin's," you say, zipping your bag closed with more force than necessary. "Coffee. My treat."

"Alright," he agrees easily, but his eyes are knowing. "But just because it's your treat."

You roll your eyes. "I’m not made of money."

"Says the girl who spent the entire lecture online shopping."

"That's different. That's for Emma's birthday." You sling your bag over your shoulder and start walking toward the exit. "And apparently I need to get something for Jungkook too now."

"Jungkook?" Jimin falls into step beside you. "Your roommate? The one you said, and I quote, 'has the personality of a wet sock with tattoos'?"

"Did I say that?" You wince. "That's a little harsh. He's more like... a slightly damp sock. With tattoos. And a cat."

"Uh-huh." Jimin holds the door open for you because of course he does. "And you're buying him a gift because...?"

"His friends are planning this whole surprise birthday thing and somehow I got roped into it." You step outside into the September sunshine, immediately regretting your choice of a black t-shirt. "I have to get him to some ramen place on Saturday without making it obvious."

"Sounds like a job for someone who actually likes him," Jimin says, adjusting his bag strap again.

"That's what I said!" You throw your hands up. "But apparently I'm the only option because Yoongi's too obvious or whatever."

You navigate through the crowded walkway, automatically stepping closer to Jimin when a group of skateboarders whizzes by. 

"So what are you getting him?" Jimin asks.

"No idea. His friend suggested whiskey or photography books." You mumble. "But it feels weird to get him something when we barely know each other."

Jimin gives you a look that's a little too perceptive for comfort. "You live together. How do you barely know each other after almost a month?"

"We're not exactly having heart-to-hearts over breakfast, Jimin." You avoid his eyes. "It's more like ships passing in the night. Ships that occasionally fight over whose turn it is to clean the bathroom."

"Hmm." It's a noncommittal sound, but somehow Jimin packs a lot of doubt into that one syllable.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just seems like there might be more to the story."

You nearly trip over your own feet. Does he know? How could he know? You've been so careful not to mention anything about your... arrangement with Jungkook. But Jimin has this annoying sixth sense about people.

"There's nothing to tell," you say, too quickly. "He's just my roommate. Who happens to need a birthday gift now."

"If you say so." Jimin mercifully drops the subject. "So what did you end up getting for Emma?" 

"Nothing yet. I was looking at candles, but none of them are right. She likes ocean scents, but all the ones I found online smell like bathroom cleaner according to the reviews."

"What about that little shop on 12th? The one with all the handmade stuff?"

You blink at him. "What shop on 12th?"

"The one we walked past last week when you were complaining about your landlord's no-pets policy while simultaneously showing me fifty pictures of Griffin."

"Oh." You vaguely remember a storefront with crystals in the window. "I didn't notice it."

"Of course you didn't." Jimin's smile is fond. "You were too busy telling me how Griffin only knocks over Jungkook's things but never yours."

"Because it's true! That cat has taste. But yeah, maybe we could check out that shop after coffee? If you're not busy?"

“Maybe after coffee.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs—that bright, genuine laugh that makes it impossible not to smile back. It's weird having a friend like Jimin. Someone who waits for you after class and remembers the shops you walk past and doesn't make you feel like you're too much or not enough.

It's nice. 

Really nice.

The bell chiming in Jin's shop shouldn't come as a surprise. 

So it doesn't. 

What does, however, is Professor Kim standing next to your university best friend Yeji as she animatedly complains about coffee to Jin, who looks like he's rolling his eyes so hard they might fall out of his head and roll across the counter.

You stop dead in your tracks, nearly causing Jimin to crash into your back. Your brain immediately halts its processes like you've just witnessed your high school principal at a strip club. 

Because what the actual fuck is Professor Namjoon Kim—the English department's golden boy who publishes in journals you can't even pronounce—doing hanging out with Yeji? 

It's like seeing your therapist at the grocery store. Or your gynecologist at a bar. 

Some people just shouldn't exist outside their designated spaces in your life.

"Uh... hi Yeji?" you mutter, approaching the counter.

Your hand instinctively grabs the handle of your bag, clutching it like it might somehow explain this bizarre crossover episode of your life.

Jimin grabs your arm from behind, his fingers digging into your bicep as he tries to subtly pull you away. You can practically feel the panic radiating off him. 

Makes sense. 

Professor Kim is basically his academic idol—the guy probably has Namjoon's journal articles taped to his ceiling like other people have posters of rock stars.

But your curiosity is stronger than your sense of self-preservation. It always has been.

"Why are you with Professor Kim?" you blurt out, gesturing between them with your free hand. "That's such an odd combination?"

Yeji turns around, her perfectly glossed lips forming a small 'o' of surprise before morphing into an amused smile. "You mean my brother?"

Brother?

You actually feel your mouth hanging open, but you can't seem to close it. It's like your jaw muscles have gone on strike.

"Your what now?" you choke out, eyes darting between them. 

And holy shit, how did you not see it before? They have the same eyes. The same way of tilting their head slightly when confused. The same fucking dimples when they smile.

"Brother," Yeji repeats slowly, like you might not understand the concept of siblings. "You know, same parents, shared childhood trauma, occasional desire to commit murder?"

Professor Kim—Namjoon—lets out a deep chuckle that somehow makes him seem less like the intimidating academic genius and more like... well, Yeji's dorky older brother.

"I didn't realize you two knew each other," he says, looking between you and Yeji with genuine surprise.

"We're in the same class for History of Modern Art," Yeji explains, then turns to you with narrowed eyes. "Wait, how do you know Joon?"

"He, uh—" you start, but Jimin cuts you off, apparently having recovered from his initial shock.

"Professor Kim helped Y/N with her English assignment last week in the cafeteria," he says, his voice doing that slightly higher thing it does when he's nervous. "He's my Literary Criticism professor."

Jin, who's been watching this whole exchange with the entertained expression of someone witnessing a particularly juicy reality TV show, slides a cup across the counter. 

“Your usual, Joon. Maybe this will help you process the fact that your worlds are colliding."

"Thanks," Namjoon says, accepting the coffee. "And it's not that weird. University's a small place."

"Not that weird?" you repeat, your voice climbing an octave. "Yeji's been my friend for almost a month and she never once mentioned her brother is the Professor Kim who's published in like, every major literary journal and is the youngest professor in the English department!"

Yeji shrugs, completely unbothered by your minor meltdown. "Why would I? It's not like I go around introducing myself as 'Yeji Kim, sister of Namjoon Kim, academic wunderkind.'"

"You absolutely should," Jin interjects, wiping down the counter. "It's much more interesting than 'Yeji Kim, girl who complains about my coffee being too bitter even though that's literally how coffee tastes.'"

"It doesn't have to taste like liquid punishment, Jinjin," Yeji fires back.

“Call me that again, I dare you.”

She just sticks her tongue out at him. 

Meanwhile, your brain is still trying to process this information. Yeji—your friend who constantly convinces you to skip class—is related to the professor who casually dropped references to obscure literary theories while helping you with your paper. The same professor who Jimin practically worships from afar.

The bell chimes again, and Namjoon glances over your shoulder, his face lighting up with recognition.

"Jason! Perfect timing," he calls out, waving someone over.

You turn to see a man who looks like he walked straight out of an academic journal's "30 Under 30" feature. Dark wavy hair, green eyes, and a messenger bag settled against his thigh. He looks younger than Namjoon but carries himself with the same confident ease, minus the dorky energy Namjoon apparently reserves for his sister.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, approaching your little group. "Office hours ran long."

"Everyone, this is Jason Calloway," Namjoon introduces as the newcomer reaches you. "He's a teaching assistant in the English department, working on his PhD. Jason, this is my sister Yeji, her friend Y/N, and—"

"Jimin Park," Jason finishes, nodding at Jimin. "From Literary Criticism, right? Front row, always has insightful questions."

Jimin looks like he might spontaneously combust from the recognition. "Y-yes, that's me."

"And Jin, the coffee wizard," Namjoon adds, gesturing to the barista.

Jin gives a curt nod, his ‘usual’ friendliness suddenly dialed down to about a three. "Professor Calloway."

"Please, just Jason," he insists with a smile that reveals perfect teeth. 

(Of course they're perfect. The guy probably flosses twice a day and has never had a cavity in his life.)

His eyes land on you, and you feel weirdly self-conscious about the fact that you haven't brushed your hair since you woke up.

"Y/N, was it?" he asks, extending his hand. "I don't think I've seen you in any of the English department courses."

You shake his hand, noticing how firm his grip is. Like, professional-level handshake firmness. 

“That's because I'm not in Literary Criticism. Though I’m friends with Yeji and uh, occasionally get help from her brother when I'm desperate."

"She's being modest," Namjoon interjects. "She wrote an excellent analysis of Joyce's symbolism in 'Araby' last week."

"Really?" Jason's eyebrows rise with what seems like genuine interest. "That's one of my favorite stories from Dubliners. What was your take?"

And suddenly you're discussing your half-assed paper with this unfairly attractive TA while everyone else watches. 

"...so basically I argued that the bazaar represents this false promise of escape that ultimately just reinforces the narrator's entrapment," you finish, surprised at how coherent you sound.

"That's a compelling reading," Jason says, and he actually sounds like he means it. "Have you considered taking any of the modernist literature electives? Professor Harlow is teaching one next semester that would build on exactly those kinds of insights."

"Oh, I don't know if—"

"She'd be perfect for it," Namjoon agrees, nodding enthusiastically. "Y/N has a natural instinct for literary analysis.”

You shoot him a betrayed look. Way to trap you in front of Hot TA.

"I'll think about it," you say, which is your standard response to any suggestion that might involve additional work.

"You should," Jason says, pulling out his phone. "Actually, I'm putting together a study group for students interested in modernist literature. We meet at the library on Thursdays. Nothing formal, just discussions. Would you want me to text you the details?"

Is he... is he asking for your number? Under the guise of academic enrichment?

"Sure," you hear yourself saying, even though the last thing you need is another commitment. 

You recite your number as he types it into his phone.

"Great," he says, pocketing his phone with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. "I'll text you the information."

Jin clears his throat loudly. "Are you ordering something, or just recruiting for your book club?"

"Black coffee, please," Jason says, unfazed by Jin's tone. "And whatever these two are having." He gestures to you and Jimin.

"Oh, that's not necessary—" you start.

"I insist," Jason says. "Consider it a thank you for the interesting conversation."

"I was going to treat Jimin," you protest weakly.

"Then you can treat him next time," Jason counters smoothly.

“Coming right up," Jin says in a tone that suggests he'd rather be doing literally anything else.

"So, Jason," Yeji pipes up. “In a scale of one to ten, how boring is it working with my brother?”

“I��m literally right here.” Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“I’m not talking to you.” She nudges his shoulder.

And just like that, you find yourself observing Professor Kim engaging in sibling banter with your black cat girl friend. 

Jimin just sighs.

Jason smiles.

And you… You can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Because he’s kinda cute. 

And he thinks you're smart, which is... new. 

And nice.

And probably easy and not at all like what you have to fight everyday back at home.

Jimin leans close to your ear. "Did you just get adopted by the Teaching Assistant?" he whispers.

"Shut up," you mutter back, but there's no heat in it.

You're too busy wondering why Jin looks like he's trying to murder Jason with his eyes as he aggressively steams milk for your latte.

You are going to kill Yoongi.

Not in a fun, theoretical way. Not in a haha, wouldn’t it be so funny if you just disappeared way. No, in a genuine, how dare you way. A why the fuck would you tell me that way. Because now you know, and it’s annoying.

Because who the fuck just collects vinyls without owning a record player? Seriously? Is Jungkook, like, a museum curator in his free time? A hoarder? A hipster? A tragic romantic who thinks the idea of playing them is better than actually hearing the music?

And why do you know this about him now? Why do you have to sit here, staring at your phone screen, realizing that—wow, Jungkook actually cares about something other than his cat, his coffee machine, or sex?

(Not that you can complain about that last one. The guy is good. But anyway. Not the point.)

The point is: you need to get him a gift, and you had thought, for maybe five minutes, oh, a record player, that’s easy, before the internet informed you that you are, in fact, an idiot. Because apparently, these things are not cheap. Not even close.

Like, two hundred dollars minimum. Minimum. 

What the actual fuck? Are these things hand-carved by monks in the Swiss Alps? Does each one come with a vial of David Bowie’s blood? 

No wonder Jungkook doesn’t have one. Knowing him, he probably wants some artisan audiophile masterpiece that costs a month’s rent, because apparently, he only likes expensive shit. If his coffee machine is any indication, he’s the kind of guy who thinks “entry-level” is an insult.

So, yeah. That’s a dead end.

Which is just great, because why should it be easy to buy a gift for your stupid, annoying roommate? The same roommate you—occasionally—fuck. The same roommate who gives you pretty damn good orgasms (objectively speaking) but also apparently sometimes ties your shoelaces and carries your fucking laundry basket. 

Not that those things mean anything. He’s still annoying. 

And this is just… inconvenient.

Because it shouldn't be this hard. Emma’s gift was easier. A candle. Because you know her. Have known her for years, since high school, since braces and straight A’s and sleepovers in a house that wasn’t filled with the crushing weight of expectation.

It’s not like you and Emma were inseparable or anything, but she was safe. Predictable in a way that your own life wasn’t. Parents who asked about school but didn’t make your worth dependent on it. A house that felt lived in, not curated for appearances. You spent whole weekends there sometimes, away from the asphyxiating worry and tightly wound smiles of home.

And yet, even with all that history, buying her a gift was easy. Thoughtless, almost. Because you know what she likes. What she always likes. Ocean scents. Easy. Done. But with Jungkook—

You don’t know him. 

Not like that. 

Not in ways that make gift-buying easy. 

You know what his mouth feels like on your skin, what he sounds like when he’s cumming, the way his grip tightens when you push him past the point of coherence. 

You know he doesn’t just fuck, he devours, the way he lets himself lose control but never in a way that feels unsafe. 

You know that Jungkook.

But this? This is something else entirely.

And it’s not like you’re overthinking it. You just… refuse to get him something meaningless? Because, what—his friends are getting him stuff that matters to him, and you’re not gonna make yourself look stupid by giving him a random mug. 

And clearly, a vinyl player is out of the question because you are not spending two hundred dollars on this man.

Because, get real. You’ve known him for a month. 

Maybe you should just go with the whiskey. Or the macarons. Or whatever the hell else his friends suggested.

But the thought of it doesn’t sit right.

It should. It should sit right.

But it doesn’t.

And then Jason is holding the door open, and Jimin is nudging you through like you’re some kid hesitating at the threshold of a dentist’s office. You shoot him a glare, but he just raises his brows in that infuriating way that says get a move on, and okay, fine. 

You step inside the library. 

It’s its usual hushed, sterile self—muted conversations, the soft clatter of laptop keys, the occasional rustle of a page turning. You’ve spent enough time here that the whole place feels mapped into your brain, familiar in a way that’s more about necessity than comfort.

Jason, of course, is completely at ease, like someone who actually enjoys being in academic settings. He had mentioned he could help you both out with your subjects—literary criticism for Jimin, contemporary poetry for you—and maybe the whole thing should feel a little weird. 

Because it is weird. 

Jason is a teaching assistant. He’s basically one step removed from a professor, and getting study help from someone who could realistically grade your future papers seems like it should be against some kind of rule.

But also, he’s attractive. And if you have to suffer through an afternoon of studying, you may as well have something nice to look at.

And okay, it’s not just that. He’s actually competent. He seems interested in the material, which is already more than you can say for yourself when it comes to dissecting yet another pretentious poem that somehow manages to say absolutely nothing in fourteen unnecessarily complicated lines. 

And if he makes studying less of a slow, painful death? 

Well. That’s a deal worth taking.

So you walk. And you do it carefully, because the last thing you need is to trip over your own feet and make a spectacular fool of yourself in front of Jason and his perfectly effortless, I-have-my-life-together aura. 

Jimin moves ahead, leading the way like he always does, because he has a whole system for this.

The table. Your table. The one tucked away far enough that nobody bothers enforcing the stupid beverage policy, even though Jimin swears that’s not the only reason he picks it every time. But to get there, you have to take the lift, which means a little more walking, a little more weaving through the maze of bookshelves and seating areas.

You’re mid-step, following Jimin’s path, when the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand on edge.

It’s instant, sharp, like someone just screamed your name in the dead silence of a church. Except no one did. Nothing changed. The library still hums with the same subdued energy, people still absorbed in their own work, but—

Your head turns before you even realize why.

And there he is.

Jungkook.

Sitting at a table to your left, laptop open, fingers resting on the keyboard like he was mid-typing before he got distracted. 

And yeah, he is distracted, because his eyes are lifted from the screen, gaze settled on the girl beside him. She’s leaning in, whispering something, lips barely moving, and whatever she said—whatever it was—makes his mouth quirk up at the corner in that stupid, smug way that he does when he thinks he’s being effortlessly charming.

It shouldn’t be interesting.

But for some reason, your feet almost stutter.

It’s like your body noticed him before your brain did, like some ridiculous internal Jungkook radar just activated without your permission.

And you hate that.

Hate that he’s even registering in your periphery, let alone taking up any space in your thoughts. 

But your eyes are still on him. And worse, his shift.

His gaze drifts from the girl—slowly, lazily, like he’s not in any rush—until it lands on you.

And that is the moment that something tightens in your chest.

Because now he’s looking. Now he sees you, standing there, caught in this stupid little moment of unexpected eye contact. And if there’s one thing you hate, it’s that Jungkook is the type of person who notices things. 

Apparently. 

Because since when do you notice he notices things?

And then his gaze drifts.

Past you. Over your shoulder. Taking in the presence behind you like he’s cataloging it. 

Jimin, probably. Maybe Jason. 

Either way, something shifts in his expression—not dramatically, not like some big revelation, just the smallest flicker of recognition.

But then?

Then there’s the eyebrow.

A small quirk, barely there, but unmistakably him. The way it pulls up, just enough to suggest something—questioning, curious, maybe vaguely amused. 

Or maybe not amused at all. Maybe something closer to why the fuck are you here? Or who the fuck is that? Or is this really what we’re doing today?

Like you have any idea.

Like you even know what it is about this moment that makes your stomach do something unpleasantly close to twisting.

Your shoulders pull up in an easy, practiced shrug, the universal sign for why the fuck do you care? Because, really, why does he? 

Or does he?

Whatever. You’re here to study. With Jimin. And Jason, apparently. Who happens to be helping. And also happens to be attractive. And none of that is Jungkook’s business.

Except now you have to keep walking.

Which, for some reason, feels like an entirely different task than just existing a second ago. Like there’s a new weight to it now, something too aware of the fact that he’s watching. 

You should just go. Pass by. Move on. But your body is hyper-conscious of every step, every shift, every inch of space between you and the table where Jungkook sits, his laptop open, his fingers still hovering over the keyboard like he’s supposed to be typing.

But isn’t.

And then Jimin is stepping ahead again, and Jason is right beside you, and there’s no reason for you to hesitate even for a second longer.

So you don’t.

You just keep walking.

And you feel him keep staring.

And then you’re sliding into a chair far away from him (thankfully), whilst Jimin settles across from you. Jason takes the seat to your left, close enough that you catch a whiff of something woodsy and expensive. 

It's fine. This is fine. You're just here to study, not to think about the way Jungkook's eyes followed you or how his stupid eyebrow quirked up like he was asking a question you couldn't quite decipher. 

So you reach for your bag, fishing out your contemporary poetry textbook—a tome so dense it could double as a weapon in a pinch. The cover stares up at you, all pretentious font and abstract artwork, like it's judging you for not appreciating its profound literary significance or whatever.

But before you can even crack it open, your phone buzzes against your thigh. Once. Twice. Like it's impatient, demanding attention right fucking now.

With a sigh that's more dramatic than strictly necessary, you pull it out, already knowing who it's going to be. Because of course. Of course he can't just let it go.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

You stare at the screen, torn between annoyance and something dangerously close to amusement. Because really? That's what he's going with?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’t 𝚒 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝??? 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 🤨

The reply comes faster than you expected, like he was waiting with his thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚞 𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜

You snort, earning a curious glance from Jimin. You wave him off, mouthing "it's nothing" even as your fingers are already tapping out a response.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚖

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. Because it's not funny. It's not. He's just being an ass, as usual. But there's something about the quick back-and-forth that feels... familiar. Easy. Like verbal sparring but without the weight of having to actually look at each other.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗?

There's a pause. Longer this time. You imagine him glancing at the girl next to him, maybe offering some half-assed excuse for his distraction. 

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚙𝚕 𝚒 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝟸 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚊𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚝𝚏 𝚒𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍... 😭 𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎. 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘…

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚑𝚖

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐?

Another pause. This one feels different. Heavier somehow. Like he's weighing his words, which is ridiculous because when has Jungkook ever carefully considered what comes out of his mouth?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚌 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝟸? 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 👏👏👏

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝

There’s a pause. 

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚛 𝚞 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢

And there it is. The question you knew was coming but still somehow catches you off guard. Because how do you explain Jason? How do you casually mention that you're getting extra help from an attractive TA without it sounding... like something it's not?

Not that it matters what Jungkook thinks. Because it doesn't. At all.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗. 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚊. 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 😀

You hit send before you can overthink it. But as soon as the message goes through, you feel a knot forming in your stomach. Like you've said too much. Or not enough. Or just... something.

The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again. 

What the hell is taking him so long?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖

That's it? Hmmm? What the fuck does that even mean?

You're about to type out a snarky reply when Jason leans in, his shoulder brushing against yours.

"Everything okay?" he asks, voice low enough not to disturb the library's hushed atmosphere.

"Yeah," you say, maybe a bit too quickly. "Nothing important."

Jason nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Well, whenever you're ready, we can start with Sylvia Plath's 'Lady Lazarus.' I think you'll find her use of Holocaust imagery particularly interesting in the context of personal rebirth."

Great. Just great. Holocaust imagery and personal rebirth. Exactly what you need right now when your brain is too busy trying to decode Jungkook's monosyllabic response.

Your phone buzzes again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 

You blink at the screen. Because what the actual fuck?

And maybe you stay there, waiting for another message that doesn't come. Which is stupid because there's nothing to say. You're here to study. He's... doing whatever the hell he's doing. That's it.

So why does it feel so weird?

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice cuts through your thoughts. "You with us?"

You look up, suddenly aware that both Jimin and Jason are watching you expectantly. Waiting for you to join them in the exciting world of modernist poetry or whatever the hell you're supposed to be doing.

"Yeah," you say, shoving your phone into your bag with more force than necessary. "I'm here. Let's do this."

But as you flip open your textbook, you can't shake the feeling that he’s here. Not watching you, because you’re nowhere near him right now. But it’s like his presence hovers in an inconvenient way.

Fuck Jungkook and his stupid, cryptic texts. Fuck him and his ability to get under your skin with just a few words. And fuck you for letting him.

You've got poems to analyze and a cute TA to impress. 

That's what you're here for. 

That's all you're here for.

So. Thirty-five minutes.

That’s all it takes.

Thirty-five minutes of Sylvia Plath and Jason’s smooth, perfectly enunciated explanations. Thirty-five minutes of Jimin occasionally sighing like he’s reconsidering his entire major. Thirty-five minutes of not thinking about Jungkook. Of not wondering if he’s still at that table, if he’s still watching, if he’s still—

Ding.

Your fingers tighten around your pen. You already know.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?

You exhale sharply through your nose, tapping your phone awake under the table.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚒’𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝟹𝟻 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜. 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎???

It takes less than three seconds for the typing bubble to appear.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘???

“Your focus seems to be slipping.”

You blink up at Jason, who’s watching you with a raised brow, his fingers still resting lightly on his open book. Jimin doesn’t even pretend to hide his judgment, lips twitching as he leans back in his chair.

“Sorry,” you mutter, stuffing your phone between the pages of your textbook like it’s a bookmark instead of a distraction. “Just—uh, go on.”

Jason doesn’t push, but Jimin gives you a look. 

Your phone buzzes again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚕𝚘𝚕. 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚞 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 “𝚠𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚢𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌”

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚖𝚛. “𝚊𝚑 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝟻 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐”

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡. 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙.

The typing bubble appears again, then disappears. Then again. Then—

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖

Your heart skips.

Which is stupid. Stupid. Because why? What about that message is even remotely heart-skipping-worthy? It’s a statement. A fact. A piece of information you didn’t ask for and definitely don’t care about.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢…? 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐???

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛

And, okay. That’s fine. That’s totally, completely normal information. He’s in the bathroom. On the second floor. You’re on the second floor. That’s fine.

So why does your stomach feel weird?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚌’𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚘𝚕 𝚗𝚘?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚕𝚘𝚕 𝚢𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑??

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚘 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍

Your breath catches, pulse flickering against your throat.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎. 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 💀 

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚊𝚗𝚍?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚍𝚢𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍??? 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚘𝚔? 𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘 𝚒???

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚑𝚖. 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝚍𝚘. 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚗𝚊 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞 𝚍𝚘.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑. 𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗 𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 🤨

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚒𝚡.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚛𝚘.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗’ 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔

Your stomach tightens.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒’𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚘𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗. 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚘𝚠?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝. 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒’𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚔𝚢𝚜

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑… 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚄𝙿

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎.

Your thighs press together under the table. Fuck.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚌𝚖𝚘𝚗, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚡𝚗𝚒𝚡

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚋𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚘𝚋

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚍

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚞

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

Your fingers flex around your phone, the heat creeping up your spine as your pulse stutters.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑?

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚖𝚑𝚖. 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

You swallow.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚢

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚗𝚊𝚑. 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚞 𝚛𝚗. 𝚋𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚞’𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙿𝙸𝙶

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚜 𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚑?

You freeze.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗

Jason’s voice cuts through the heat simmering in your phone.

“You’re smiling.”

Your head snaps up. “Huh?”

Jason nods toward your phone, amusement playing at the edges of his lips. “Who’s got you so entertained? Boyfriend?”

You blink. Brain short-circuits for half a second before you manage, “What? No. Not at all.”

Jimin, the absolute menace, hums. “She wishes.”

Your foot connects with his shin under the table. Hard.

“Jesus—” He winces, rubbing his leg. 

Jason chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “So you’re single, then?”

His tone is casual. Smooth. Like he’s just making conversation, not fishing. But you see it. The way his gaze lingers just a little too long, like he’s waiting to gauge your reaction.

You shrug, feigning indifference even as your pulse betrays you. “Yeah.”

Jason’s smile widens slightly. “Interesting.”

Your phone dings again.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕: 𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗?

Your jaw clenches. You exhale through your nose. Mutter a quiet, ‘motherfucker,’under your breath.

Jimin raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shoot off a reply before you can overthink it.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘🖕

Then you lock your phone, shove it into your lap, and try to ignore the way your stomach flips.

goal: 250 notes

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[hakxs]

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ⎯‎⎯‎ㅤ ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ HOLD ON.͏ ㅤ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ \

ཻ ﹑ ♥︎ ⌉ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ shauna ͏ ͏ ͏won’t ͏ ͏ ͏sit ͏ ͏ ͏still ͏ ͏ ͏while ͏ ͏ ͏you ͏ ͏ ͏paint ͏ ͏ ͏her ͏ ͏ ͏nails.

ཻ ﹑ 📝 ⌉ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ first ͏ ͏ ͏time ͏ ͏ ͏posting ͏ ͏ ͏! ͏ ͏ ͏this was supposed to stay in my notes, did NAWT beta read & my first language isn’t english so please point out any mistakes!

there was a wide collection of barely used nail polish colors on the floor. across from you two there was a bunch of cotton balls with polish all over them from your previously failed attempts to rub off the mistakes to the side.

the only problem about this whole situation was shauna kept squirming around, she’d twist her body or shift around every other minute and it was starting to get unbearable, she did completely fine while doing the other hand, but you couldn’t quite place why she was moving around so impatiently now.

“ shauna, sit still! “ you exclaim lightheartedly, holding her hand tighter, carefully dragging the brush across her nail.

you were doing .. a terrible job to say the least, even before she started moving around. the paint was splotched all over her cuticles and fingers, but the both of you couldn’t care less.

“ uuugghh. “ shauna groans, “ can you hurry up? please? “ you pause the painting momentarily as you listen to her whining like a little kid, rolling your eyes. you barely start painting her ring finger before she speaks up again. “ the thing tickles! stop being so sloppy! “ she says, referring to the brush — but you just ignored her and continued.

you were doing this because she suggested the idea of matching nails a hour ago, your nails were painted black a few weeks ago — some of it had chipped off until then, but she insisted on matching with you, hence why she picked black.

again, she squirmed, you didn’t say anything but a small idea popped into your head, you put the cap of the nail polish back onto the bottle and you moved over to straddle her in one quick motion.

“ hey, what the hell? “ shauna exclaims, her brown eyes going wide with surprise.

she reaches out to touch your hips, but you snap at her quickly — “ don’t touch me. “ you murmur underneath your breath, her hands stopping in the air right next to your hips. “ don’t wanna get your polish all over my clothes, trust me. I’m almost done. “ grabbing the top of the bottle, you grab her hand and you start to apply the polish once again, moving onto the next finger.

you could tell she didn’t really mind. In fact, she seemed to like you being on her lap. still, you focused hard, sticking your tongue out slightly.

she was very still all of a sudden, the once-fidgety girl was frozen; scared to even breathe almost. you noticed this and tried not to laugh to yourself, biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood – but, fortunately for her, you were finished.

“ shauna. “ you said, grinning as you looked up at her. “ I’m done. “ you added as you hum, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“ you’re such a tease. “ she murmurs, grabbing your face with both her hands, leaning in as she kisses you on the forehead, you yelped a little in surprise. she stumbled back, stifling back a laugh, and leaned against the footboard of her bed, staring at you in amusement.

“ hey, you ruined your nail polish! “ you point at your cheek, a fresh streak of black on it. unfortunately, it now marked your skin. “ who cares? “ shauna groans, leaning in to kiss you properly, rolling her eyes.

you’ll have to paint them, again — maybe later, though.

[itsmerelliwellie]

You're The Only One I Want To Sleep Next To | Y. Nagumo x Reader

---

For this pretty over here

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19.) "You can sleep on the floor." "Or I can sleep right here, next to you. Problem?”

Prompts

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Warning(s): Go and find out... (it's not that bad)(unless you're talking about the writing OwO)

Important Warning: NOT REALLY BETA READ

---

You knew it would be like this.

You knew sharing a room with him would be hell, especially after the day you’ve had. Blood on your clothes. Scratches on your hands. And Nagumo—stupid, charming, infuriating Nagumo—flirting with the receptionist like it meant nothing.

Again.

So when you walk into the room and see the one single bed, your exhaustion snaps like a brittle twig.

"You can sleep on the floor," you mutter, slinging your bag into a corner.

Nagumo glances at the bed, then at you, lips twitching with that smug, teasing smile.

"Or," he says, peeling off his jacket, "I can sleep right here next to you. Problem?"

And that’s it.

You whirl around to face him, eyes blazing. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

He blinks, caught off guard. “What—”

“Everything’s always a joke to you. Everything’s always some flirty line or a cocky smile. Do you ever stop and think maybe I’m tired of being one of your targets?”

His expression drops, all traces of amusement gone.

“Targets?”

You cross your arms, voice sharper than you mean it to be. “You flirt with everyone, Nagumo. It’s what you do. Cashiers, enemies, strangers, teammates. I’m not ‘special’. And you acting like I’m supposed to just sleep next to you like none of it affects me—”

“Wait.” He steps closer. “You think I’m playing with you?”

You say nothing, jaw tight.

“Is that really what you think of me?”

“I know you. You turn on the charm when you want something. It’s not real. None of it is.” You glared harder.

The silence that follows is thick. Stifling.

Then he lets out a breath—like he's been punched in the stomach.

“God,” he whispers. “You really don’t see it.”

You blink. “See what?”

“That I don’t flirt with everyone. I don’t joke with everyone. I don’t let just anyone close. That stuff I do with people? It’s shallow. It’s empty. It means nothing.”

His voice cracks.

“But with you?” He steps closer again, more desperate this time. “With you, I can’t breathe. I say stupid things because I’m terrified of saying what I actually feel. I act cool because if I act real, I’ll mess it up. You think I’m just charming? Hell, I’m a wreck when it comes to you.”

Your chest twists.

“I remember every time you’ve laughed at something I said. Every time you’ve looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching. Every time you’ve smiled like maybe, maybe, I could be more than just a teammate to you. You have no idea how many times I replay those moments in my head.”

He swallows hard. His voice is shaking now.

“I haven’t looked at anyone else the way I look at you. I’ve never wanted to. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

The room goes still.

Your heart is pounding so loud it echoes in your ears.

“I thought,” he says, quieter now, “if I kept a safe distance, if I kept it playful, maybe you’d stay close. Maybe you wouldn’t run. But I messed it up, didn’t I?”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you carefully step toward him and place your hand over his.

He stiffens.

“You’re not messing it up,” you whisper.

He looks up, eyes wide, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I didn’t know,” you say. “I thought you were just being Nagumo. But if what you said is real…”

“It is,” he breathes. “Every word.”

You nod once, then take another step, until you’re right in front of him, nose to nose.

“Then stop hiding. Let me see the real you.”

He exhales shakily, before he pulls you into his arms.

His hug is tight. Unfiltered. A whole body, soul-deep kind of embrace. His hands wrap around your waist. His face tucks into your neck. And for a moment, he just holds you. Clings to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much it hurts.”

You press your forehead to his.

“I love you too, idiot.”

He lets out a soft, relieved, broken laugh and kisses you like he means it. Like he’s not just kissing your lips, but your fears, your doubts, your anger—everything.

And then you’re both sinking down onto the bed, tangled in each other, warmth replacing all the distance that had been building between you.

The room is still spinning, even after the argument settles into silence.

Nagumo’s arms are around you. His breath is still shaky from crying. Crying because he really thought he was going to lose you. He’s still holding you like he might.

You bring your hand up to his hair, carding your fingers through the soft strands as his forehead rests on your shoulder.

“Hey,” you whisper, brushing your thumb over the shell of his ear. “Breathe with me, okay?”

He lets out a trembling exhale and follows your lead.

You lie like that for a long time, just being, just existing in the same space, hearts syncing beat by beat.

Eventually, he lifts his head. His eyes are pink-rimmed, but his smile is small and genuine.

“I’m not good at this,” he murmurs.

You reach up and cradle his face. “You’re doing just fine.”

“I wanted to tell you sooner, you know. I practiced it. In the mirror. On missions. In the car. I even tried to say it once when we were patching each other up after that job in Okinawa.”

You blink. “You what?”

“I panicked and said your nose looked cute with blood on it instead.”

You can’t help the laugh that escaped. Loud and warm and surprised. You remembered that night clearly.

“I really love you, you know?” It was barely above a whisper. And you were on the other side of the room, getting more bandages.

You turned towards him, eyebrow raised. “You were saying something?”

“I-” He faltered. Again. “I said the blood looks cute on your nose.”

“Idiot.”

And he laughs too, eyes crinkling, the tension melting from his shoulders like snow under sunlight.

“God, I’ve been gone for you,” he says softly, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “And I didn’t even realize how much until you looked at me like I was just some asshole player.”

“You’re not,” you say immediately. “I was just scared you’d never take me seriously.”

“I do. I do, I do, I do.” He punctuates each one with a kiss. Your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “You’re the only person I’ve ever really wanted something real with.”

Your heart twists again, but this time, it’s full of love. Not pain. Not doubt. Just warm, overflowing love.

“I want to be with you,” you whisper. “All the way.”

His eyes widen, and then soften. “You mean that?”

You nod. “I want the late nights and lazy mornings. I want the good days, and the ‘you’re annoying but I love you anyway’ days. I want the mission debriefs and post-fight cuddles and the ‘we might die but at least we’re together’ kind of love.”

He just stares at you for a second, as if you’ve handed him the whole damn world.

Then he lunges forward and kisses you like he’s been holding it in for years. And maybe he has.

It was morning, you two were supposed to be heading back now. Yet, you both are still in bed, wrapped around each other like two halves of the same whole.

Nagumo’s head is resting on your chest, his fingers lazily tracing circles over your stomach.

“I could stay like this forever,” he mumbles.

You smile and kiss the top of his head. “You’re clingy.”

“I’m in love. There’s a difference.”

“You were never this soft before.”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to be.”

You glance down. He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“I used to think love was supposed to hurt,” he murmurs. “Or that it was a weakness. But you… you make it feel like breathing. Like I’ve been underwater my whole life and I finally came up for air.”

You wrap your arms tighter around him.

“You can be soft with me,” you say. “You deserve that.”

He hums, eyes slipping closed, a little smile on his lips.

“Don’t let go.”

“Never.”

A beat.

“…Even if I kick you in my sleep?”

“Even if you steal all the covers.”

“Even if I accidentally call you something embarrassing in front of Sakamoto?”

“…Yes.”

He lets out a loud laugh and buries his face in your neck, a happy little groan rumbling from his chest.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he whispers. “I’m already whipped.”

“You always were.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, brushing your hair back with tender fingers.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You grin. “Like I’m gonna say no.”

He leans in, slow and warm, and kisses you like you’re the only person in the world—because to him, you are.

And somewhere between the kisses, the cuddles, and the whispered “I love you”s, you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Safe. Loved. Home.

---

A/N: Sooooo... you guys missed me? OwO

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[ktownshizzle]

Nerd & Nerdier | Chapter 5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, Jeon Wonwoo x reader; endgame? x reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Attempt At Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Wildly gratuitous, You might 100% chance you’ll fall in love with both of them so that’s a problem, no mxm dynamics to be expected

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: noods vs nudes debacle, smoking cigarettes, fangirls, yoongi being so good at archery, kissing

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 2.7k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: March 16, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Thank you to @angellekookie for beta reading. and THANK YOU for reading my stories. Just hit 1k followers and it's kind of cool, yk. Appreciate your support and love. Enjoy this one~ :)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

You like to think this was a selfless idea.

After all, things had been weird ever since the dates. Not bad-weird, just different. The kind of different where Yoongi watches you longer than necessary when he thinks you won’t notice and Wonwoo suddenly likes sitting just a little closer than before.

And okay, maybe you liked the attention. Maybe you liked them competing for your time. And maybe—just maybe—you wanted to indulge in the idea that this was your own personal season of The Bachelorette (or Single’s Inferno, if you were feeling extra dramatic).

But mostly? You just wanted to spend time with both of them together again. So, in the spirit of "bonding," you suggested an activity that felt fun, safe, totally neutral.

Archery.

Roommate Rule #4: If You Plan a Group Outing to Bond, Be Prepared for Chaos.

The moment you step into the archery range, Yoongi sighs like he’s already bored. You give him a stern look and his lips thin into a straight line, chin dimpling as he pretends to now be well-behaved. Meanwhile, Wonwoo is practically vibrating with energy. He cracks his knuckles, rolls out his shoulders. Honestly, with the amount of gaming he does, he might just be naturally good at this.

An instructor teaches you three the basics. You’re the only one listening, because Yoongi seems to be disassociating heavily and Wonwoo is so hyped up like he’s in a real first person shooter game.

You volunteer to go first. You step up to the line, nock the arrow, and pull back the bowstring. It takes a little adjusting, but your shot is decent. Not perfect, but it hits the board. 6.

“Not bad,” Yoongi muses, arms crossed.

“You sound so surprised,” you scoff.

“I am.”

Wonwoo steps up, brimming with confidence. He draws back. Pouts his lips. Aims. Releases.

Misses. Completely.

Like. It was not even close. It did not even hit the board or the one beside it.

“What the—” Wonwoo blinks at the target, as if it is the problem. “That can’t be right.”

Yoongi tilts his head. “It looked right to me.”

“Hyung...” Wonwoo whines, but quickly grabs another arrow. Misses again.

“-100 aura?” Yoongi supplies unhelpfully.

You purse your lips, fighting the laughter bubbling up in your throat. “Uh… maybe you just need to adjust a little?”

“I don’t need to adjust,” Wonwoo grumbles, rolling his shoulders. “I just need to—”

Then Yoongi steps up. Casually. Effortlessly, as he does everything else. He draws back, barely even aiming—shoots.

It’s a perfect bullseye.

Wonwoo stares.

You are so gagged. “Wait. You never said you were good at this.”

Yoongi shrugs, completely unfazed. “I’m good at everything.”

Wonwoo just stands there, arrow still in hand, confidence actively crumbling. “Hyung, you gotta show me once…”

And of course, Yoongi is not a complete asshole, so he does give Wonwoo a few pointers. Spends time with the basics and a few of his own techniques. (“Don’t pout when you aim, unless you wanna split your lip.”) He’s actually a good teacher.

But even after that, Wonwoo misses twice more. You study his expression, and he is visibly struggling. His shoulders are tense, his grip is stiff, and you can see the frustration in his expression.

You feel bad now.

“You’re just tense,” you say, stepping closer, placing your palms on his shoulder, squeezing a bit. “Breathe. Relax this.”

Wonwoo exhales, nodding as you adjust his stance, fixing his grip.

Yoongi coughs. You ignore him.

Then, finally, Wonwoo releases the arrow—and it actually hits the board this time. 4! A win is a win!

“See?” You grin, patting him on the back. “Better!”

Wonwoo still pouts. “Still not good enough, though.”

“You’re good at other things,” you offer.

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah? Name one.”

Wonwoo mutters, “…Being tall.”

You giggle as Yoongi responds with an, “I’ll give you that.”

After the tragic archery session, you all end up at a pocha close to your apartment. Greasy food, cheap soju. The vibes are always good here.

The three of you settle into your usual spot, the server spotting you with your usual digs: tteokbokki, odeng, soju, beer.

Yoongi is nursing his beer, Wonwoo is distractedly scrolling on his phone, and you are already halfway through your second soju shot because tonight just feels like one of those nights.

And then, it happens.

At the next table, a group of three girls keeps sneaking glances over, whispering.

It doesn’t take long before one of them gathers the courage to approach, smiling directly at Wonwoo.

"Hi! Sorry to bother you, but—" she bows in slightly, eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you a streamer? You look so familiar."

Wonwoo blinks, caught completely off guard. “Oh—uh, yeah. I stream sometimes.”

One of the other girls gasps. “I knew it! You’re gameboy17. We watch your streams all the time!”

The third girl, the boldest of them, rests her chin in her hand, smiling. “Wow, I didn’t think you’d be even cuter in person.”

Yoongi and you exchange knowing glances, while Wonwoo.exe has stopped working.

His jaw tightens, ears slowly turning pink, and for a second, he looks like he’s about to short-circuit. But then, he rubs the back of his neck, clears his throat, and finally gets his footing.

“Oh—uh, thanks,” he says, offering a tiny, lopsided grin.

And just like that, the girls pounce.

They start asking him a million questions. What games does he play? How long has he been streaming? Does he have a girlfriend?

You sip your drink, completely unbothered.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is studying you carefully over the rim of his beer.

Wonwoo’s getting visibly more comfortable now, leaning into the attention, his usual awkwardness melting away under the weight of all this praise. The way they’re hanging off his every word, you’re pretty sure these girls are the type to let him ruin their lives, and he knows it.

And then—

"Oppa, you don’t have to third-wheel with your friends,” one of them pouts. "Come join us at our table."

Wonwoo freezes. His ears go from pink to red.

Yoongi’s lips twitch, barely suppressing a smirk, but you can hear a hum of satisfaction as he takes a slow sip of beer.

Your face prickles, heat spreading up your neck at the sudden, unexpected insinuation. You feel the attention shift to you now, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

You could make him suffer. But you’re feeling merciful.

"We're all just roommates," you clarify, giving Wonwoo an easy out.

The girls nod in understanding, but it does nothing to deter them. They go right back to chatting him up.

And then—you make a mistake. Maybe it’s the soju, maybe it’s the pure chaos of it all, but the moment you invite them to join your table, they actually do.

Wonwoo looks horrified. But when he glances at you, you just give him a nod like, it’s okay, enjoy the attention.

And really, why wouldn’t he?

The girls are practically draped over him now, leaning in closer every time he speaks, laughing a little too hard at things that aren’t that funny.

You should be annoyed. You should be jealous.

But as you sip your drink, seeing him interact with girls who are not you, you feel nothing.

Or rather, you feel something… but it isn’t jealousy. It’s just… curiosity.

Wouldn't you be irritated if you really wanted Wonwoo?

The thought lingers, curling around your brain like the cigarette smoke Yoongi just puffed out. Then, he speaks, casually pulling you from your reverie.

"So," he says. "You’re awfully quiet."

You blink, glancing at him. "No, I’m fine."

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he just reclines in his seat, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"How’s work?" he asks.

And that’s that. The subject shifts. You talk about annoying coworkers, upcoming deadlines, the usual. And for the rest of the night, you and Yoongi stay in your own little world while Wonwoo enjoys the fruits of his unexpected fame. Which includes three new contact numbers saved on his phone.

By the time you head home, Wonwoo looks exhausted. He’s more quiet than usual, walking with a pensive expression like he’s deep in existential thought.

Yoongi glances at him, amused.

"You good, Romeo?"

Wonwoo exhales deeply. "I wasn’t prepared."

You laugh, nudging his elbow. "What, for being hot?"

Wonwoo turns his head slowly, expression serious. "Yes."

For once—even Yoongi has nothing to say.

It’s a lazy afternoon, and you’re perched at the kitchen counter, elbow-deep in a steaming bowl of instant ramen. Across from you, Yoongi is doing the same—hoodie sleeves pushed up, one hand cradling his chin, the other lazily twirling noodles around his chopsticks, humming some old cartoon show tune.

The apartment is quiet, peaceful, and a little lazy. Just how you like your Sunday mornings.

That was until the bedroom door creaks open and Wonwoo finally emerges from his crypt after a night-long stream.

His hair is a disheveled mess, his glasses slightly crooked sliding further from his oily nose, and his oversized shirt is barely hanging off his shoulder. You don’t even bother greeting him properly.

“Want noods?”

Suddenly, Yoongi chokes violently on his soup. A horrifying spluttering sound follows, and then he’s spitting the broth back into his bowl.

“The fuck,” he wheezes.

You blink at him. A little disgusted. “You okay?”

Yoongi glares, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. ”Am I okay? Are you okay saying shit like that?”

And then it hits you.

The phrasing. The implication.

“Duh,” you roll your eyes defensively. “Of course, I meant noodles—”

But it’s too late. Because Wonwoo is grinning. Amused. Like he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“Easy, hyung,” he murmurs, plopping onto the seat next to you, stretching like a cat.

You flounder. Panic.

“Noodles!” you stress, voice a pitch too high. “I was just teasing him about the “nudes” his fangirls keep sending him!”

Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, clearly entertained. “So you are thinking about me getting nudes?”

Yoongi groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can you two not do this in front of me?”

But Wonwoo just smirks, turns to you with his obnoxiously open mouth like you were about to perform a tonsillectomy. 

“Ahhh…” he vocalizes and you’re left with no choice but to shovel a big bite towards his mouth.

He chomps away happily. “Thanks for your noods, noona.”

“Hajimaaa,” Yoongi deposits his bowl in the sink and storms to his room.

“You’ve really got some nerve pulling that shit without even brushing your teeth first,” you taunt him.

“Please, you’d still kiss me, noona. I just know it.”

But before you can react, he’s already jumping to another topic. "So I wanna take you out again."

You blink. That was… again, the balls on this dude. Maybe those fangirls really are boosting his confidence like no other.

"You do?"

"Mhm." Wonwoo nods, tapping his fingers idly against the table. "Unless…" He shifts slightly, picking an imaginary lint from his t-shirt. "…you’ve already picked hyung?"

You stiffen. You’re not answering that. 

And Wonwoo? He sees that.

“Where would you even take me?”

He smiles, “Just leave it all up to me.”

It’s well past midnight when you wander into Yoongi’s room, mischief brewing like the bowl of soup caged in your palms.

His monitor glows softly, headphones on, glasses perched low on his nose. He’s completely lost in his work—clicking through audio tracks, adjusting levels, frowning at something only he can hear.

You lean against the doorway, watching him for a moment before stepping inside.

“Yoongi.”

No response.

So you do what any normal, sane, mature person would do—you poke his cheek.

Yoongi winces instantly, before finally removing his headphones. “Mm?”

You grin, setting the steaming bowl down beside his keyboard. You see the split second of fear in his eyes, but to his credit, he overlooks the danger to his expensive equipment in favor of humoring you for your sudden appearance in his room.

“You want noods?”

His eyes narrow immediately.

“Is this a real question,” he asks slowly, “or another attempt to emotionally scar me?”

“I literally made you ramen, and this is the thanks I get?”

Yoongi huffs, finally setting his work aside. “You made this yourself?”

“Instant ramen is not that hard, Yoongi.”

“Then why do you always make me cook?”

You gasp. “I slaved over this, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Aish. Slaved over? You just said it’s not that hard.” He chuckles, shaking his head, but then—without a word—he picks up a bite of noodles and holds it out.

You blink.

“What—”

“You made it,” he says simply, nudging the chopsticks toward you. “Taste it first.”

You let him feed you, swallowing slowly, too aware of the way his eyes are on you.

“Not bad,” you murmur.

“Mm,” Yoongi hums, picking up his own bite. “Guess I’ll take your noods after all.”

Aha!

And that’s when you strike.

“Okay then.”

You tap your phone against his, the soft ding of a successful Quick Share (Samsung supremacy! Airdrop eat shit!) filling the quiet. You walk backwards a bit, planning to make a great escape once you see his reaction.

Nothing yet. Yoongi just watches intently, waiting for the transfer to go through. A tiny preview of the photo comes and goes, then—his entire body goes rigid.

He drops the chopsticks, grabs his phone so suddenly it’s almost comical as he swipes to find your little present.

Then, in a hushed, slightly wrecked sort of way—

“Oh, what the fuck.”

You bite your lip, observing as he exhales sharply through his nose, his gaze flicking between his phone and you, then back to his phone like he’s trying to make sense of what he is looking at.

A cute little selfie from your last beach trip—camera angle from above, offering a perfect view of sunblock-slicked cleavage, bikini straps barely visible. Popsicle in hand, tongue teasingly out, eyes bright with mischief. Not exactly nudes. He hasn’t earned those yet. But this doesn’t leave much to the imagination either.

Slowly, he places his phone down. Carefully. Deliberately.

And then, voice low and kinda menacing: “If you don’t get over here right now—”

Your breath catches, because he’s dead serious. His thighs part slightly, his hands flex once on the arm rest—like he’s ready for it, like he wouldn’t hesitate to pull you right onto him.

And you want to. So badly. But instead, you smirk.

“Finish your ramen first.”

Yoongi groans, throwing his head back slightly, but he’s smiling now, too—small, exasperated, but real.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“I know.”

You finally inch towards him, then he grabs your wrist, pulling you in as he wanted to, sitting sideways on his lap.

“You really had that just sitting in your gallery?” he asks.

“Maybe.”

His fingers skim along the inside of your arm, his breath warm against your cheek.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” you whisper, tilting your head slightly. “Yet.”

Yoongi chuckles under his breath, and finally, he kisses you.

It’s slow, warm, just a brush of lips at first, like he’s testing himself, testing you. But then his hand cups the back of your neck, and suddenly, you’re sinking into him, letting him pull you in completely. Just as quickly as it started, though, he pulls away.

A breath of space between you.

“Go to bed,” he murmurs, voice rough but fond.

“You too,” you whisper back.

He huffs a soft laugh as you stand up.

You take a slow step back, your heart still pounding way too hard as you slip toward the door.

And just before you leave, you call, “Good night, Yoongi.”

His gaze lingers, his lips twitching slightly before he finally looks back at his ramen. “Good night.”

And the last thing you see before the door clicks shut is the way his fingers hover over his phone—still debating whether to check that photo again.

:)

Chapter 6 >

A/N: heheheheh.... what did you think???

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[jinjoohaa]

The Guard Dog

Pairing - Toji fushiguro x reader (Bodyguard! AU)

CW: yelling, parental conflict, emotional hurt, minor power imbalance, mild angst, and comfort.

prev chapter | next chapter

Chapter 2

The afternoon was dragging lazily.

You lounged on the couch in the living room, one leg draped over the armrest, flipping through your phone, bored out of your mind. Your earbuds were in, but no music played — you were too lazy to press play again. Mostly, you were stewing in your own annoyance.

Toji sat nearby, polishing a knife like the walking danger sign he was. His muscle shirt clung to his broad chest, veins visible as he slid the blade across the cloth in slow, measured movements. He glanced up every so often, like he was checking to make sure you hadn’t started setting the house on fire out of boredom.

Typical.

The house was too quiet — the kind of quiet that made you feel like a guest instead of someone who lived here. The maids moved like ghosts, the guards outside paced like machines, and every tick of the antique clock on the wall grated on your nerves.

“This place is a goddamn prison,” you muttered, not expecting a response.

“Could be worse,” Toji said lazily without looking up. “Could be a real prison.”

You scoffed, shooting him a glare. “Wow. Inspirational. Thanks.”

He smirked slightly but didn’t respond. That was also typical. Tease you just enough to get under your skin, then retreat like it didn’t matter.

You went back to scrolling your phone, about to text your friend about sneaking out later — when the front doors slammed open.

The heavy thud of expensive shoes echoed down the marble floors like thunder.

You sat upright, startled, frown deepening as your father stormed in, his assistant trailing behind, already looking stressed.

He looked furious. Sharp. All business. A storm in an expensive suit.

“The hell?” you whispered.

Your dad never came home during the day. Not unless something was wrong. And definitely not looking like that — tired, tense, irritated in that cold, dangerous way that usually made grown men flinch.

He didn’t even glance at you. Just marched to the armchair opposite you and dropped into it like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His assistant shut the doors behind him quietly

"Everyone out," your father barked.

The staff scrambled.

Only four of you remained.

You. Your dad. His assistant. And Toji — who looked completely unfazed, still spinning his knife like he was in the middle of a Sunday hobby.

Your father looked at Toji first.

“There’s been movement,” he said grimly. “They’re getting bolder. We had a firefight two nights ago. The docks. They got close.”

Toji nodded once, all business. “Casualties?”

“Two on our side. Five on theirs. But they got a message through.”

You watched the exchange with a mix of confusion and disinterest.

“Message? What, like handwritten or one of those dramatic riddles?”

Both men ignored you.

“Intel says they’re probing weak spots. If they can’t get me …” His eyes cut to you like a blade.

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

“That’s why,” your dad said, “from now on, no more going out at night. Even with Toji.”

You sat up. “Excuse me?!”

“No parties. No late dinners. No stupid midnight drives.”

“Stupid?!” you exploded, launching off the couch. “So now I’m just a stupid little kid who can’t leave the house without permission?”

“Don’t twist my words—”

“Oh, sorry, Dad, I must’ve misheard between all the dictatorship!”

Toji made a low sound like a chuckle, earning a death glare from your father.

“You’ll stay in,” he repeated. “No discussion.”

“No discussion?!” you yelled, fists clenched. “You’re not even here half the time, and now you suddenly care? Just ‘cause you got problems at work doesn’t mean I have to suffer!”

Your dad’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t suffering—”

“Yes, it is! I’ve done nothing! I’ve been good! I stayed out of your business, kept to myself, didn’t even sneak anyone in—”

“Jesus,” Toji muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “You’re making it worse.”

You whipped your head toward him. “You shut up! You’re supposed to be on my side! You're the damn bodyguard!”

He raised his brows. “Bodyguard, yeah. Babysitter? No.”

You glared at him. “I am not a baby!”

“No, you're an ungrateful brat,” your father snapped.

That did it. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Silence fell like a thunderclap.

Your dad’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. He leaned forward, voice low but razor sharp.

“Do you think I enjoy this?” he hissed. “You think I want to lock you up like some goddamn bird in a cage?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing it because you’re my daughter, and people would kill to get to me through you. They’ll drag you away in the dark and send me your fingers.”

You flinched.

“I’ve spent my life building walls so nothing touches you. I hired Toji because he’s the only man I trust with your life. And you think this is me being cruel?”

His voice cracked — just slightly.

You stared, throat dry, anger faltering as guilt bubbled up.

But your pride was louder.

“Still doesn’t mean you get to control every second of my life,” you whispered stubbornly.

That’s when the slap of his palm hitting the table made you jump.

“Enough!”

You flinched again, arms curling around yourself.

“I don’t want to hear another word,” he snapped. “You’re staying in. Toji’s in charge. You argue again, I’ll remove your damn phone and laptop.”

You stared, stunned, eyes burning. He’d never yelled like that. Never threatened consequences. You didn’t know how to react.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “There’s gifts upstairs. Go look.”

Then, he turned to Toji. “Keep her in line.”

Toji nodded silently.

And just like that, your father walked out, leaving behind silence and a bitter taste in your mouth.

You didn’t speak.

You sat there, arms limp, staring at the space he’d occupied.

Toji didn’t say anything at first either. Just leaned back, stretching like a cat, knife finally gone from his hands.

“Damn,” he muttered. “Didn’t know the old man had that in him.”

You said nothing.

“Hey,” he added after a beat. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer.

“...Brat?”

Still silent.

His smirk slowly faded as he studied your expression. You weren’t fuming or scheming like usual. You looked… wounded.

“Shit,” he muttered. “He really hit a nerve, huh?”

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, still not looking at him.

He stood up slowly. “Alright. Gonna give you space, princess.”

And then he left.

The weight of the house settled around you — silent and cold.

You swallowed thickly, blinking fast to stop the burn in your eyes.

Without much thought, you dragged yourself upstairs to your room.

The moment you pushed open the door, you froze.

Piles of gifts boxes were stacked everywhere — luxury brands, glittering jewelry boxes, clothes and designer bags.

All gifts from your father.

Guilt twisted deep in your gut.

He wasn't trying to hurt you.

He was trying to keep you safe.

You bit your lip hard, sinking onto the edge of your bed, surrounded by the ridiculous, expensive proof of how much he loved you.

Still...

It didn't stop the ache in your chest.

It was dark by the time you stirred. You hadn’t moved from the bed, cheek mashed into a silk pillow, limbs limp. You didn’t cry. Not really. But your throat felt raw like you wanted to.

Then the door creaked.

And in came Toji — holding a tray of your favorite food.

He walked in like it was no big deal, but his eyes flicked over your form like he was checking for cracks.

"...Eat, brat."

You blinked up at him, stunned.

“You brought me food?”

He grunted. “Chef wouldn’t shut up, so I kicked him out and made this.”

You stared at the grilled cheese, the fries, the soda. Your favorite comfort food.

You sat up slowly.

“You didn't have to,” you murmured.

Toji sat on the edge of your bed with a grunt. “Didn’t wanna hear you sobbing through the walls.”

You snorted despite yourself.

“There she is,” he muttered, smirking faintly.

You picked at a fry. “Thanks.”

He leaned back, arms stretched behind him. “You know he didn’t mean to hurt you, right?”

You shrugged.

“He’s scared,” Toji added. “Doesn’t know how to say it. So he yells. Gives orders. Buys shit.”

Your chest ached.

“I just hate feeling... trapped.”

“Yeah,” Toji said quietly. “But being trapped and being protected ain't the same thing. Sometimes they just... look similar.”

You were quiet for a long moment.

Then: “You’re good at this.”

Toji looked at you.

You clarified, “The talking thing. I thought you’d be worse.”

He chuckled. “Don’t get used to it.”

You smiled faintly. “You’re still an asshole.”

He grinned. “And you’re still a brat.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

He didn’t pull away.

Just sat there beside you, solid and warm, quiet in the way that said he wasn’t going anywhere.

“…Wanna watch something dumb?” you asked.

He tilted his head. “What kind of dumb?”

“Reality TV dumb.”

Toji groaned. “God. Fine. But I’m picking the snacks next time.”

You smiled into his arm.

For now, the ache in your chest faded just a little.

For a moment, you didn’t feel trapped.

You just felt... warm.

Safe.

Wanted.

Toji stood up then, ruffling your hair roughly like you were some scrappy little kid.

"Get some sleep, brat," he muttered.

Then he paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder.

"‘Cause tomorrow," he said with a wicked glint in his eye, "I’m dragging your spoiled ass to training."

You groaned dramatically.

"Nooo— Tojiiiiii—!"

"Sorry, daddy's orders." He just laughed — a deep, rich sound — and disappeared down the hall, leaving you grinning like an idiot into your pillow.

Maybe being stuck here...

Maybe being stuck with him...

Wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

to be continued in the next chapter

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[willowsnook]

brandy with italian soda in a wine glass? 💗

charles leclerc x verstappen!sister

do you enjoy pissing me off?

----------------------------------------------

Few things in life were certain: death, taxes, and Charles Leclerc being hopelessly in love with you. At least, that last part was obvious to everyone except you. Charles had been smitten since the days when you were both tearing up karting tracks. Even your brother Max found it amusing how oblivious you were to the whole thing. The signs? Blatantly obvious.

Charles was always around. To anyone new in the paddock, it might look like he was a Red Bull driver with how often he hung around their garage whenever you were at a race.

He was always touching you—his hand on your back as you walked, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, or nudging you playfully. He found any excuse to be close to you.

And he never talked about other girls when you were around. If the conversation ever drifted toward his romantic life, he’d deflect, downplaying any rumors. Because in his eyes, the only person that mattered was you.

But you were too caught up in your own world to notice. Ever since you’d started your marketing career at a tech company last year, life had been a blur of work and figuring out adulthood. Dating wasn’t exactly on your radar.

Charles had always been in your life. So, for you, it didn’t feel strange to be around him all the time. You hadn’t realized things had shifted on his end.

It was a late night in Monaco, and you were out for dinner with Charles, Max, Kelly, and a few others, making the most of a short break after Singapore. You rested your head on Charles’ shoulder, casually holding a glass of wine while chatting with Kelly. After dinner, the plan was to hit up a new club in town, and you were excited for a night out.

When the waiter came by with the checks, Charles swiftly motioned that yours was with his.

"You didn’t have to do that, Charlie," you said, glancing up at him.

He smiled warmly. "I always will, mon amour."

Max rolled his eyes and gagged dramatically, while Kelly shot him a warning look.

After leaving the restaurant, you grabbed Charles’ hand as the group made their way toward the club, not wanting to get separated in the busy streets. Charles absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against your hand, content with the simple gesture. Thanks to Max, you all had a private VIP section waiting at the club.

Once inside, you made your way to the bar to grab a drink. "Tequila soda, please," you ordered, leaning over the counter.

"Her drink’s on me," a guy standing next to you offered with a charming smile. He had beach-blonde hair and deep, ocean-blue eyes.

"Thanks," you replied, accepting the gesture.

"No problem," he said, leaning in closer so you could hear him over the music. "You from around here?"

"I live here now," you explained, "but I’m originally from the Netherlands."

"Nice," he replied, clearly interested. "I’m just visiting from the U.S."

"Ah, I’ve been a couple of times—Vegas, Miami, Austin," you said casually, listing off F1’s U.S. race stops.

"Not L.A.?" he asked with a grin. "You’ll have to let me show you around sometime."

You blushed, about to respond when you felt a strong hand wrap around your arm, pulling you away from the bar.

"Let’s go," Charles said sharply, his eyes shooting daggers at the guy, who looked confused.

"Charles, what the hell?" you protested, irritation bubbling up as you pulled free from his grip.

Charles stopped and turned to face you, his jaw clenched. "Are you trying to piss me off?"

Your eyes widened, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"That guy," Charles snapped, gesturing back at the bar. "Flirting with you, buying you drinks—do you not see what’s happening?"

You crossed your arms defensively. "He was just being nice, Charles. It’s not that serious."

"Not that serious?" he repeated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You really don’t see it, do you?"

"See what?" you demanded, exasperated. "Why do you care so much?"

Charles stared at you, his usual cool exterior cracking as his emotions surfaced. "Because it drives me insane watching other guys try to get your attention. I should be the only one who has your attention."

The words hung in the air between you. His eyes softened as he realized what he’d just admitted.

Charles swallowed hard, his frustration giving way to vulnerability as he took a step closer, closing the gap between you. "I’ve been in love with you for longer than I can remember. Watching you with someone else, even for a second, it—" He broke off, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t want anyone else to have you, because I’ve always wanted you."

The weight of his confession made your breath hitch. The little gestures, the lingering looks, the way he always had your back—it suddenly all made sense.

You closed the space between you, pulling him down into a kiss that felt like it had been building for years. Charles wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding up your back like he’d finally found what he’d been waiting for.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, Charles rested his forehead against yours, a wide smile on his face.

"About time," he whispered, making you laugh softly.

"Yeah, about time," you agreed, already knowing that this was just the beginning.

Both of you walked back to your friends who had been watching the whole time and your face burned red with embarrassment.

"Finally found your balls mate?" Max said to Charles laughing and you rolled your eyes, not letting your grip of his hand loosen.

[voidsaez]

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ׁ ˙ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི ◞

— for eternity. ( gally tmr x reader ) abuse !!

a/n : monthly post coz i never use tumblr lol, anyways i rewatched the first tmr movie n i realized hes lowkey insane

summary : after thomas found a way out, you’ve been clung to his every word. your boyfriend, isn’t happy.

There was nothing more Gally could ever ask for. You, him, and the rest of the Glade living in peace—a perfect harmony.

For months now, everything had been great. The two of you became a rare constant in a world filled with uncertainty.

He’d never felt more secure, more alive, than with you by his side. That was, until Thomas arrived.

In less than a week, the newcomer had somehow found a way out—an escape. You were overjoyed at the prospect of freedom.

Gally? Not so much.

-

“We don’t need to leave!” His voice cracked with urgency as he cupped your face, trembling thumbs pressing into your skin.

“Isn’t this enough? You have me—we can stay here. Forever.” His words came out rushed, his tone laced with desperation.

You shove at his hands, trying to make him pull away. “Are you insane? We’ve finally found a way out! After three years!”

His gaze hardened, his grip tightening. “Don’t you see?” He pleads, his voice frantic and pleading at the same time.

“Out there, it’s worse! You’ll see! This place, the glade—it’s safe. We’re safe here.”

You could see his demeanor changing, his eyes wild. It was love—yes, but it was twisted, fevered, consumed by desperation.

“You think it’s better out there?” He spat out, his voice a harsh whisper. “You think you’ll survive out there? you won’t.”

His grip tightened, to the point you felt like your bones were about to crack. Like it was more a warning than a plea.

“Let go!” You yelled out, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

He laughed, hard, cold, humorless. “You think they care about you, huh? Thomas? Teresa? They’ll leave you to die once it gets hard.” He says.

“But not me.” He says, his voice softening, almost sounding tender. “I’d never let that happen to you, I’ll protect you.”

“Protect me?” You snarled, “This isn’t protection, Gally, this is madness!”

His jaw clenched, clear displease in his eyes. “Madness? no, no. Madness is trusting them.” He says, with a deranged smile.

“Madness is thinking they’ll get us out of here alive.” He continues on. “You don’t get it, do you?” He asks.

“Thomas. Thomas is the problem—him and Teresa, they’re the reason we’re suffering! If it weren’t for them, we’d be happy.”

What the hell is he trying to say?

He speaks with innuendo, his words starting to sound past insane. “What are you saying?” You ask, stomach twisting.

His smile widened, almost dangerously. “I’m saying,” he said slowly, “we don’t need them. The Grievers, they’re hungry.“

Your blood ran cold. “They’ll take care of Thomas and Teresa. All we have to do is offer them over to the Grievers.” He says.

“You’re not serious,” You whispered, horrified. He was starting to lose it.

“Why?” He asks, stepping closer again. “They’re a threat, baby. To me. To you. To us. I won’t let them take you from me.”

“Gally,” You breathed, your voice trembling. “This isn’t you. You don’t mean this.”

He reached for you again, his hands almost gentle this time, but the madness in his eyes didn’t fade. “I mean every word,” he said.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means sacrificing them. Even if it means..” He trails off, looking at you.

You used to love his smile, the way he rarely ever did made you feel special, like his smile was reserved for only you.

But then, he smiled again, sharp and terrifying. He’s gone. That isn’t him.

“Don’t do this, Gally, don’t make me hate you.” You say, stepping back away.

His expression softened, “You’ll thank me one day.” He says, simply.

The sound was sickening. His fist slamming into you. A sharp crack that echoed in your ears, while your body went limp.

-

You weren’t his partner anymore.

You were his prisoner.

[moremaybank]

STAKE YOUR CLAIM — j.m

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary jj isn’t happy when he finds out you’ve been sleeping with other people on the island, so he’s sure to set the record straight. you’re his, and his only.

warnings unprotected sex, possessive!jj, slapping, choking, spitting, degrading, bondage, breeding, marking, dacryphilia, semi-public sex, anal fingering

author’s note special thanks to @blueicequeen19 for this request. you pulled this out of me and i’m eternally grateful, babe ♡︎ i hope you like ittt

jj masterlist

The air is charged with tension as JJ’s hand closes around your wrist, his grip firm as he leads you away from the crowd of the party and into an unoccupied room. His jaw is set, and you can feel the anger simmering off his tan skin. 

“Damn it, J, let go of me,” you demand, trying to tug your wrist free from his grasp. 

JJ’s grip only tightens. He shoves you into the empty dining room and slams the door behind you, locking it shut. He turns to you, his eyes burning deep into your soul.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like this is all on me,” JJ snarls. “Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? You can’t just let anyone touch you, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice rose. “You don’t get to control who I see or what I do. We aren’t exclusive, JJ. I’m not yours.”

JJ’s jaw clenches, and his fists ball at his sides. He steps closer to you, and you back up until your back hits the large wooden table behind you. “Try again, sweetheart. You are. Don't make me knock you up to prove it to you.”

You scoff and try to shove past him so you can leave, but JJ doesn’t make it easy for you. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he states. His hands find their grip on your hips, and his index fingers dart out to tease the hem of your skirt. Goosebumps form on your skin at the contact, and you mentally curse yourself for always reacting to his touch that way. It’s like your body knows it needs him to feel alive. His eyes find yours once again. “You're such a whore, you'll let anyone inside that pussy, won't you? Kook. Pogue. Touron. Doesn't matter does it?” 

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Who I sleep with is none of your business.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, baby.” He pulls your skirt and panties down with one harsh yank and lets them pool around your ankles on the floor. Then, he tugs your tube top down, revealing your bare tits. His fingers pinch your nipples fiercely, and you bite back a moan. “You’ll never need anyone else but me. You understand?”

You don’t respond. You can’t even look him in the eye. It’s crazy how far he can push you and still have you coming back for more each time. No one makes your heart race the way he does. No one gets you soaked and makes you scream the way he does. He’s animalistic and unforgiving with how he fucks you, and that’s just how you like him. He knows it, too, and he isn’t afraid to use that against you.

His hand curls around your throat, and your eyes unwillingly find his. “No one gets to touch you. No one but me.”

JJ lets go, and you watch as he undoes his belt and slides it out of the loops of his shorts. One hand draws your wrists in front of you, and the other works quickly as he loops the leather around them. He fastens it as tight as it can go. Then, in a swift motion, he has your back flat against the table, and your restrained wrists above your head. He mutters an order to keep them there, and he quickly moves to spread your legs. 

“‘M gonna get an apology from you whether you like it or not. You really shouldn’t be this greedy, baby.” You’re already wet, and JJ can feel it when he slaps your pussy. You mewl as the sensation tingles and stings at your core. He slaps it over and over again, relishing in the cries he’s already pulling from you while barely doing anything. You squirm, trying to move your hands to get him to hold off, but his free hand keeps them pressed to the wood. 

The more he continues, the more pitiful you become. You're crying out, and your cunt is all swollen and hot. You're pleading for more friction, more sensation, anything, but JJ's enjoying your sounds far too much to stop.

“That hurt, baby?” He asks, his tone condescending, completed with a sadistic smirk. You nod, and he lets out a taunting whine. “You sure? ‘Cause you're soaking my hand so much that it's dripping. Your pussy's giving you away, sweetheart.”

You feel insane. How could he have this much power over you? Turning you into a crying mess and making you look forward to his punishments like this? You must be brainwashed. Or maybe, JJ’s a sorcerer. Either way, his metaphorical and physical hold on you has you locked in for life. 

Once he deems that you’ve had enough, he smacks your ass harshly from the side, before using both hands to spread you open more. He ducks his head down and licks a stripe up your pussy, tasting your sweetness as it coats his tongue.

“God, I wanna ruin this pussy, baby. Ruin it for you, and for anyone that tries to compete with me. I want you to cum so much that it hurts, wanna see those pretty tears run down your cheeks. I'm gonna fuck you ‘til you pass out and then wake you back up with my cock buried inside you.” 

One hand frees his cock, and he gives you no warning as he slams inside of you. He’s so deep that you can feel his tight balls against you. He’s also stretching you so wide that you feel like he’s piercing you. His hips pick up a relentless pace, his hips snapping against yours so hard that the table shakes beneath you. 

“So fuckin’ tight, feels like you’re tryin’ to push me out, pretty girl,” he grits. His hand finds your throat again, squeezing as he fucks you into the hard surface. Your core is burning at how forcefully he’s rutting into you, but the ache is so addicting. Your legs are squirming, trying to find the strength to wrap around JJ’s midsection, but you can’t. JJ notices, and he laughs at the look on your face. “Learning your lesson, aren’t you?”

JJ’s right hand comes up as he slaps your cheek, not too hard but hard enough to make heat rise. “Tell daddy you’re sorry. Maybe I’ll take it easy on you.”

All you can manage is a whine, a strained mm leaving your lips as you screw your eyes shut. This only makes JJ worse. Your eyes shoot back open when he slaps you again. “Say it,” he commands. 

“‘M s-sorry, daddy.”

“No,” he tuts as he squeezes your throat harder and slightly cutting off your air. “Louder.”

“I’m sorry, daddy!”

He spits in your face and grins wickedly when he sees you lick up what you can. “Now beg me to let you cum.”

He pulls you up, his hand curling around the back of your neck while the other holds your leg around his waist, keeping you open. His pelvis smacks against your far-past-swollen clit. Tears well in your eyes, and your wrists begin to burn as the leather rubs them raw. You’re trying to free yourself so you can brace yourself on something. You’re unlucky and unable to do so, just as JJ planned. 

“P-please, daddy. Let me cum, it h-hurts,” you hiccup. Your doe eyes stare up at him as he fucks you with reckless abandon, unfazed by your pleas. 

“Aw, you wanna cum, sweet girl? Not yet. ‘M gonna make you wait.” The bastard becomes even more cocky if possible, and leers at you. “You wanna know why?” 

You whine, the tears starting to slip past your eyes as you try to keep your sanity intact. JJ inches closer to your face, gnawing on your bottom lip and drawing it out before releasing it with a snap. 

“‘Cause I love how pathetic and dumb you sound when you beg for me.”

JJ Maybank is evil. You’ve known it for a while, but his actions today only solidify it. You could be as good as you wanted for him, but the patronizing son of a bitch will never admit defeat. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, exactly how he wished to. 

By now, your entire body is convulsing, and you’re void of any energy. JJ knows this, of course. He loops your bound wrists around the back of his neck and scoops you up in his arms. He walks over to one of the walls surrounding you both, and he practically slams your back against it. His cock splits you in half with each hard thrust. His hands migrate to the back of your thighs, spreading you as he pounds you into the surface.

“I can’t hold it anymore, daddy. It hurts, n-need to cum so— so bad,” you plead. You can’t keep your eyes open anymore. You’re trying like hell, but it just isn’t happening.

“Too bad, baby. You aren’t cumming until I say so.”

Your head leans to one side as you begin to sob. The burn in your core is about to take you out. You can feel it. It’s fiery, and threatening to give out. It only worsens when JJ’s teeth come into contact with the sensitive skin of your neck. He sucks and nips at it harshly, pulling at it and leaving his mark anywhere he can manage. He feels you clamping down on him, smirking evilly when he pulls out of you abruptly. 

“‘M not gonna let you win that easy, baby.” 

He sets you down on the rug near the table, your knees digging into the fabric. Your arms stretch above your head once more. JJ kneels behind you, spreading your cheeks so he can spit onto your puckered hole. He pops a finger in, and pushes his cock into your pussy again. His hips move at warp speed, and you’re on the verge of being fucked brainless. He’s smacking your ass and finger-fucking your ass as he pummels into you. You’re screaming at this point, mascara tears running down your cheeks and soaking the carpet beneath you. 

“Beg me for my fucking cum. I know you want it,” he grits. 

“Oh, god! Please, daddy!”

“Again,” he demands. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Give me your cum. Give me your fucking cum. Pleasepleaseplease.” Your throat is sore, so so raw from the sobs and JJ’s grip on it earlier. You’re sure there’ll be some bruising when you’re done. “Need it, daddy, please.”

“Fuck. Those cries are too pretty, makin’ me so hard. Wanna keep hearin’ ‘em. Keep cryin’, princess.” 

He doesn’t really have to ask because they’ll pour out of you whether you control it or not. Your vision is going black, your entire body limp as you lie there and let him use you. 

“I’m gonna cum. Cum with me,” he says. He slams into you a few more times before his balls tighten, and before you know it, he’s spurting his seed into you with the most delicious groan you’ve ever heard. You finally cum, drunk from his cock and so far gone that you wonder if you’re even alive anymore. 

“You,” he pants, “need to piss me off more like that again.” He frees your hands, and lifts you, carrying you over to one of the chairs at the table. Your ass stings when you slump into your seat, and you hiss. JJ crouches down in front of you, wiping your tears and leaving soft kisses all over your body. The juxtaposition of his forceful demeanour to his now gentle one makes you dizzy. “You with me?”

You want to glare at him, slap his smug grin off his face even, but you can barely breathe. 

“You’re a fucking caveman.”

His dimple pops out, “And yet, you still let me fuck, didn’t you?” 

[princessbrunette]

asking rafe for a nutting vid? it's okay if you don't want to write tysm!

u r so real for this request !

☆🫖➛🎀*.☽

rafe was going away for a week, some business trip with his dad that he couldn’t get out of. naturally, you found a week to be a very long time — so the evening before he leaves, he’s at your place to spend some time with you. the time finally comes where he has to leave to go home, and you’re clinging onto him, teary eyed and pouty.

“you can survive a week, kid.” a smirks, squeezing your hips where the two of you stand in the dimly lit hallway infront of your front door, not wanting him to go just yet.

“its a long time… and you’re not a good texter. not even gonna get to talk to you much.” you huff, already finding problems with his plans to go away. he licks his lips, shaking his head as he stares off, cupping the back of your head affectionately as he thinks.

“well what do you want me to do, huh? not like i can back out of it. time will fly, you’ll barely notice i’m gone.” he shrugs, trying to be as reassuring as he can possible muster up. he was learning still, being a boyfriend wasn’t really second nature to him.

“buuuuut…” you look at the ceiling, trying to come up with another reason he should stay, moreso trying to keep the conversation going on for longer to delay him leaving. you stifle a giggle. “i’m going to be left unsatisfied. s’not very nice of you.”

“unfortunately, you are going to have to do some of the work for once n’get yourself off. think you can manage that?” he drawls, keeping his voice low as he holds you closely to him. if he hadn’t fucked you within an inch of your life earlier on to tide over your withdrawals for the week to come — you might’ve tried to initiate something right there and then to convince him.

“will you call and help me?” you bat your lashes, putty in his arms.

“gonna be with my dad 24/7. don’t think he’d… appreciate that.” he blinks and you slump. after a silence, he opens his mouth to speak — attempting to once again say goodbye for the sixth time before an idea strikes you and you interrupt.

“wait, rafey do you think you could…” you get shy on him, giggling and dropping your forehead to his chest. he draws back, shifting on his feet with a slight impatience.

“what? hm?”

you look up, a seriousness held in your gaze and you fiddle with his shirt button again. “could you… make me a video? to help me?” you smile and he thinks he’s being mocked so he sighs, lips pressed together petulantly.

“the hell do i look like to you, hm—”

“rafe please, just — just a video of you making yourself feel good… you know, the ending… with the sound on.” your voice is quiet, not quite knowing how he’ll take it. he lets out a long exhale through his mouth, shaking his head as he thinks before shrugging.

“alright— maybe, okay? i’ll— i’ll think about it. now can i get a kiss because i am leaving.” he puts his foot down, knowing you’ll keep finding reasons for him to stay.

you feel he has pretty much dismissed your request, so you dismiss it too— forgetting all about it as you sulk in bed that night, nighttime routine finally done as you prepare to go to sleep. infact, you’re literally about to put your phone down when your phone dings.

one attachment from rafe.

you open the message, but as soon as you do— your phone rings, the contact picture of him steering his boat flashing up on your screen.

“hello?”

“its done, alright — and you’re only getting one of these videos so i suggest you wait until you really need it to watch it. yeah?” his voice sounds through your phone and a grin spreads onto your face, realising what he’s talking about.

“oh thank you rafe!” you all but squeal and you practically feel him roll his eyes through the phone.

“yeah, yeah— and don’t let me find out you’ve shown that shit to any of your friends, okay? this is just for you.”

“of course not, rafey… do you want anything in return?”

“you send me any freaky shit when i’m with my dad and i’ll wring your neck when i get home. this is just — it’s just to get you through the week… because apparently you can’t live without dick.” he sighs tiredly, a tinge of amusement in his tone telling you he���s being lighthearted in his own fucked up way.

“thats your fault.” you giggle and he hums, the sound of sheets ruffling on his end.

“alright, gotta be up early so i’m gonna head to bed. be good, yeah? i’ll text you when the jet lands, you’ll probably just be waking up at that time.”

“okay rafey, night!”

you actually make it all the way to thursday without using the video. you were tempted — don’t get it twisted, but there was part of you that wanted to hold out, make yourself really need it before you reward yourself.

you find yourself home alone, missing rafe and horny — so you end up on your bed, finger hovering over the play button.

“alright, this is for you baby. don’t ever say i don’t do shit for you.” you hear him first as he adjusts his grip on his phone, using one hand to film his crotch and the other to pull down his boxers — hard, pretty cock springing out. his hand disappears off camera for a second, and returns with a glob of spit in his palm, smearing it all over as he starts to jerk off.

aside from sighs and moans, he’s quiet for the most part until closer to the end — his tip red and throbbing and he gets more desperate. “this kinda shit gets you off, huh? probably gonna hump that little hand like i caught you doin’ that one time. ‘was real cute, baby.” his voice is breathy and you can tell he’s practically talking himself through it, pushing himself closer to his orgasm.

he’s right, your hand is down your panties— rubbing your clit and spreading your thighs as you let out whimpers of your own. “fffuck. you — mm— you wish you were cummin’ on this right here, don’t you? yeah, leavin’ a mess. as usual.” he grits his teeth, stopping for a moment to grip the girth of it in his fist, letting a bead of precum slide down his knuckle.

“shit, you wanna see me cum don’t you baby. dirty fuckin’ girl — wanna see me blow this fuckin’ load for you, huh. oh shit.” he groans, bordering on a whimper before more moans and curses follow, dripping all down his hand before the video cuts off, your boyfriend catching his breath. you continue to rewind it, rewatching until you hit your own peak, whining and moaning his name despite his absence.

he’d had a busy day, so it was no surprise he hadn’t called — and you knew you’d get in trouble, but you send him a picture of your messy, drippy cunt afterwards anyway, simply captioning it ‘loved ur vid rafey <3’

he calls almost instantly, to tell you off.

☆🫖➛🎀*.☽

[heavenlyvision]

Just Friends

Word count: 13.7k

Pairing: Johnny Cage x F!Reader

A/N: Wowee, I am pretty proud of this one ngl! I hope you all enjoy it!!! This idea has been rotating in my brain for a couple weeks now, so I’m pretty stoked to have finished it <33

Summary: When your one-year anniversary raises red flags about your boyfriend you missed, Johnny helps you deal with the fall out in a delicious way, and then he ghosts you. When you find out why, you think his reason sucks but he makes it up to you… kind of.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, angst (only little bit), virgin!Reader, age gap, reader is in her 20s, fingering, grinding, cum eating, spit swallowing (once), stalking (not by Johnny or reader), minor violence, name calling (not by Johnny or reader), no use of y/n

This isn’t where you would ideally be spending your time, in general you don’t club often but especially not for special occasions, which you classify this as one. You’re meant to be celebrating your one-year anniversary with your boyfriend, he had promised you a romantic evening but instead he surprised you with clubbing. Which, naturally you had no idea was happening, so not only are you not dressed for clubbing but you also are not in the mood to be here.

He's gone off to the dance floor and you’re just sat here by the bar watching him dance and get drunk. It’s uncomfortable for you, you’re dressed up in a nicer dress than what this place warrants and it’s getting the attention of the men around you, attention you really don’t want.

Unfortunately, it looks like your boyfriend is enjoying the attention of the other girls around him, he’s just now engaged in a bump and grind with a girl you both don’t know. This is ridiculous, he knows you can see him right? You’re getting huffy, but when he leans down and whispers in her ear is when you get pissed.

Getting up, you stomp over to him and grab him to get his attention, when he looks at you, he’s none too pleased. Like you weren’t the one watching him flirt with another girl on your one-year anniversary. A whole year with this man and he can’t give you the courtesy of paying you attention and not flirting with other girls. Ridiculous.

Your expression is twisted in anger, “What the hell are you doing?”

“What’s your problem?” He asks, his own expression irritated.

Your eyes become large, shaking your head at him, “My problem is you; you’re flirting with other girls right in front of me! On our anniversary!”

He blows you off and deflects the blame back on you, “Like you care, you have that weird relationship with that old actor dude!”

Of course, he brings up Johnny right now, you roll your eyes at him, “Johnny is just a friend! You know that.”

And he does, you’ve known Johnny for years, or at least your family has, you got closer to him a few years ago when you moved to California. He’s been really kind to you and was the only friend you had here for a while, even though he’s all famous and busy.

He gets in your face and yells at you, “Yeah right, you’re probably fucking him! You won’t fuck me but you’ll fuck him! Is that it?! GOD you are such a whore!” You can smell the alcohol on his breath with how close he is.

This is the first time he’s explicitly said what he’s been implying for months, he’s been so weird about this for a long time, you haven’t had sex with him, or anyone for that matter. And it upsets you when he implies otherwise. His blunt accusation has your eyes welling up with tears.

His shoulders drop and his eyes roll, groaning as he says, “Oh, don’t start that! You are such a gaslighter!”

“We are over, don’t call me, don’t come to my apartment, we are broken up,” you spit it out with as much venom as you can muster.

Turning from him, you get out of there as quickly as possible, hearing him continue to berate you faintly as you leave. The tears from earlier start to fall down your cheeks as you hail a cab, tonight is not what you wanted it to be at all.

This has been an awful experience, and if you were honest with yourself, you’d recognise your relationship had red flags the whole time. You had mostly overlooked it because you wanted it to work so badly but he was mean, pushy, didn’t respect you or your boundaries, he was even prone to violent outbursts, he never hit you but you have a sizable hole in your bedroom wall from the one time he got especially annoyed at you.

These are all things you had kept from Johnny and even then, Johnny had expressed concerns about your now ex-boyfriend, he never overstepped but he very gently told you that he thought he was a freak.

You won’t deny that you like Johnny, you’re attracted to him but it’s not like it’s something you could actively pursue or have even thought about pursuing. He’s older than you and probably wouldn’t look at you the same way you look at him. And even if he did, you can’t think of anything worse than a cheater, you would never want to be cheated on, so you would never cheat on someone. Even if they suck.

Sitting in the cab, you’re forced to reflect on all of this. You wish you’d had a few drinks; a buzz would probably make it easier to sleep tonight. The shock of it all has you most upset because when you search deep down you aren’t even sad about losing him, you’re sad about all the time you wasted on him. All the time you spent trying to make it work with a man who, frankly, didn’t and doesn’t deserve you.  

When you get back home, you’re immediately showering the club off of your skin and crawling into bed. What you want most right now is for this awful night to be over, so you curl up in a little ball and hug your pillow to your chest for comfort.

✰ ✰ ✰

A heavy-handed banging at your door frightens you awake; you shoot up in your spot. It’s your ex banging on your door and yelling at you, grabbing your phone you quickly look at the time. It’s currently nine in the morning, he cannot be sober yet.

You walk through your apartment and drop your phone on your kitchen counter before tentatively walking towards the door. His loud banging stops and he knocks again gently, calling your name softly. You don’t want to open the door but you’re worried about your neighbours, one thing about him is that he is as stubborn as a mule.

Opening the door only a bit, you ask him, “What do you want?”

“Fucking finally, let me in,” his voice is angry and he’s pushing the door open more.

You try to keep him back, “You can’t come in.”

He keeps pushing at the door, eventually swinging it open the whole way, “I can do what I want,” his voice raises.

He goes to move inside your apartment and you push him back, his eyes glower at you, he’s scaring you.

“We are broken up, and I don’t want you in my house,” you say, standing your ground.

“We are not broken up; I didn’t agree to that!” he argues, voice getting louder in his anger.

His demeanour is scaring you, the last time he looked like this was when he punched that hole in your wall.

But you are not caving on this, “That isn’t how it works, we are over!”

He puts his hands on you and his grip digs into your skin, hurting you, but you move automatically and punch him square in the nose. His head flies back, he’s groaning out in pain and grabbing his nose. You take advantage of his balance being thrown off and push him out of the threshold of your apartment, he stumbles back and you’re slamming the door shut, locking it again.

“What the fuck! You stupid bitch! Let ME IN!!” His banging gets more forceful, it sounds like he might be kicking the door too.

You’re shaking at what just happened, you’ve never had to punch someone before. Sadly, it didn’t do enough damage to have him leaving, he’s still there and you have a feeling he isn’t going away.

There’s a sudden ringing from behind you, it makes you jump on the spot. Your heart racing as you realise it’s just your phone from the kitchen, you walk over to it, behind you the banging has slowed a bit but you can tell he’s still out there.

Checking your phone screen, you see it’s Johnny is calling, just your luck. If you don’t pick up now, he’ll just keep calling you. He knows you were meant to go on your date last night and you didn’t message him when you got home. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re safe but you don’t really want him hearing what’s happening, so you walk into the hallway and answer. Thankful for the moment of quiet outside your door.

“Hello?” You ask.

“Good morning, doll,” he sounds chipper.

“…Good morning,” your voice is wavering despite your efforts to sound normal.

You can practically feel his frown through the phone, “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” you’re trying to keep your answers short.

The banging on your door picks up again, he’s getting louder and yelling, because of course he is.

“What is that?” Johnny questions.

“…Nothing?”

He pauses, you imagine listening to the background noises, “It sounds like someone’s trying to break in.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you deny.

The banging continues at your door, your exes voice yelling, “Let me the fuck in!! God you’re such a fucking bit–”

“–I’m coming over.” He states, hanging up hastily, leaving no room for arguments.

Great, now you have to face the embarrassment of telling Johnny how awful your ex is and is apparently unwilling to let go of you even though he was flirting with and grinding into another girl right in front of you. You’d rather deal with the cops. Sighing, you grab your bat by the front door and crouch next to it, waiting for Johnny to get here. At least your ex will go away when he gets here.

It doesn’t take Johnny long to arrive at all, which is suspicious, he probably sped. You only know he’s here because you can hear the way your ex gets angry at him.

“Cage, Of course she called you,” he says to Johnny, disdain clear in his voice.

It’s the last thing you hear clearly, whatever Johnny says to him is low but apparently threatening enough to have your ex leaving, not before he yells at you one last time though.

“THIS ISNT OVER!” He yells out for you to hear.

“Yes it is, get the fuck outta here,” you hear Johnny clearer this time, he’d raised his voice at him slightly.

Johnny doesn’t knock, instead using the key you gave him to unlock your door. When he walks inside, he looks around quickly for you, not seeing you until he turns around to lock the door. His eyes widen at your small, crouched form in the corner by the front door, holding a bat with a sock on it.

“Jesus, sugar, what are you doing there?” His hand lands on his chest in mild shock.

“In case he got the door down,” you murmur at him.

He locks the door properly before giving you his hand, helping you up.

His brow raises, “What’s the sock for?”

“In case he tried grabbing it, he’d pull the sock off and I’d still have a bat,” you move the sock up and down the bat, demonstrating the slide.

He reaches out and you hand the bat to him, “Sit over there.” He points at your breakfast barstools.

You do as he says and shuffle over to the stool, sitting down on it. He puts the bat in your umbrella stand by the front door. Walking back over to you, he stands between your legs and holds either side of your face, checking you over.

“You okay?” He asks very softly; concern clear on his face.

You nod at him, “Yeah, Mm okay.”

His eyes are still looking you over, “I saw his nose was bleeding, you hit him?”

You nod again and he smiles at you, “Nice, you square your shoulders?”

“I think so,” you’re not sure, it happened pretty quick, the reaction more of a survival thing than a planned attack.

He hums and looks to your upper arms, “He grabbed you?” His hands gently run down your arms.

“Yeah, then I hit him,” you tell him, looking at your arms where he was looking. The skin where your ex had grabbed is irritated, it might bruise.

Johnny’s face is pulled into a scowl, “I should’ve hit him too, fucken dick.”

You shake your head at him, “I just wanted him gone.”

“I never liked him,” he continues.

“I know.”

“If he shows up again, I am hitting him,” his face still scowling.

You shake your head at him again, “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” He looks into your eyes again; his hands leave you.

“Johnny, you’re not just some guy, you’re famous, if it got out that you hit someone it’d be a whole thing. It could ruin your reputation.”

He rolls his eyes at your concern, “Don’t really care about all that, doll.”

Your expression is doubtful, “Yes you do.”

“It’d be worth it, that guy sucks,” he maintains.

“Johnny?”

He hums at you in response.

“Can you… stay for a bit?” You ask softly, cringing at how pathetic you sound.

“Of course, you aren’t getting rid of me that quickly,” his smile is soft and you give him your own in return.

Getting up off the stool, you walk around into the kitchen, grabbing two mugs out for some coffee.

“You can go sit on the couch while I make some coffee,” you tell him with your back facing him.

He hums a little mindlessly before wandering over to your living room and getting comfortable.

After the coffee is made, you carefully walk to him, you’re watching the mugs and your feet as you walk. Carrying full cups has always stressed you out, you always manage to spill and you’d really rather not have to clean up a mess right now.

Thankfully, you successfully make it to Johnny without spilling anything, “Here you go,” you smile and hand him his mug.

“Thanks, sugar,” he takes it from you, sips at it and places it on the coffee table in front of him.

You sit beside him and silently sip at your coffee, enjoying the warmth of it, the flavour. You think a good cup of coffee could fix just about anything for you.

Johnny watches you sip at your mug, “What exactly happened, doll and why didn’t you call me?”

Yeah, you were expecting him to ask sooner or later, you were just hoping it’d be later.

Sighing, you place your mug next to his, “I didn’t call you because it’s embarrassing, you were right about him and I wanted to handle it on my own, I don’t need everything fixed for me.” You don’t look at him as you speak.

“I know that, you’re an adult but this was an angry, grown man, trying to beat down your door. And sometimes you might not need my help but you can always have me next to you, if it makes it easier.” His words are spoken soothingly, he’s always so gentle with you.

You can’t lie, you did have a crush on him for a long time, but then you met your ex and you didn’t let those feelings cloud your mind, you pushed them away. But just like how you push them away, Johnny’s actions and words push them back. He’s a difficult man to dislike.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

He asks again, “What exactly happened, it was supposed to be your anniversary wasn’t it?”

“He ‘surprised’ me by taking me out clubbing, which was already bad but I was uncomfortable and left at the bar alone while he danced and flirted with other girls.” You recount.

“What the fuck?” His voice is filled with displeasure.

“Mhm and then he was whispering to this one girl and I got annoyed, so I went over to confront him but he brought up y– … he said some mean things to me and about me… he – he made me cry and I broke up with him on the spot.” You leave out what he brought up about Johnny, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“How’d you get home?” He asks.

“Took a cab.” You state simply.

“And he just let you? Let you leave and get in a cab, crying, by yourself, in the middle of the night?” He clarifies.

You nod your head at him.

Groaning as he says, “I really should’ve hit him.” He pauses, “Why didn’t you call me?”

You look back to him again, “It was late and I didn’t want to bother you, or explain what happened, I just wanted to get home and get into bed.”

“You never bother me, sugar,” his eyes are compassionate as he looks at you.

Looking at him is intense for you, like if you look at him for too long, you’ll get hypnotised by him. So, you look away, back to your mug on the table.

He moves closer to you and puts a hand on your cheek, pulling your face to look at him, “If anything happens to upset you, and I mean anything, call me, okay?” He stresses on the anything, making sure you understand.

You avert his gaze, “I will call you, if something bad happens.”

He moves his face so he can catch your eyes with his, making you look at him again, “Say again.”

“I will call you, next time.” You reconfirm.

“Very good,” his praise does things to you that you wish it didn’t.

He still holds your face, looking at you, his thumb strokes your cheekbone softly. As his hand slips away from your face, his thumb pulls your lip down with it, before he pulls his hand away completely. His eyes locked onto your lips, gaze seemingly far away.

“Johnny?”

He hums, coming back to himself and looking you in the eyes, “Your pjs are very cute.” He changes the topic.

You grow bashful, you’re wearing a matching set, they’re frilly and have bows, and you like them because not only are they really cute, they’re also comfy. Johnny mentioning them throws you off, you completely forgot you were wearing pyjamas.

His smile is cheeky as he watches you grow shy, “What’s wrong?” He asks, taunting.

“You know what you did,” you pout.

He enjoys flirting with you because of how nervous it makes you. He finds it endearing but you find it annoying, which is another reason as to why he keeps doing it.

He hums happily, pleased with himself, “Cute.” It’s all he says in response.

You scowl at him.

He pinches your cheek, pulling at it.

You slap his hand away, “Stop it, that hurts.”

He smiles innocently at you; he goes to say something but his phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out and looks at it, and then he rolls his eyes, he doesn’t pick it up though.

“Aren’t you gonna answer?” You ask.

“Nah, gonna let it ring out, I do have to go though, I’m late,” his reply nonchalant.

Expression concerned you say, “Johnny! Leave if you’re late, you didn’t need to be wasting time here.”

“I didn’t waste my time, you’re important.” His face firm as he speaks.

You huff at him, “Get out, right now.” Your tone is urgent.

“You’re pretty when you’re bossy,” he teases.

Eyes widening at him, “Johnny!” You exasperate.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he placates.

You walk him over to the door. Both of you standing there, you’re waiting for him to open it and leave but he turns around to look at you and pulls you in for a hug. You return it, appreciating the familiarity of him, you nuzzle your face into the fabric of his shirt and he holds you firmly.

His mouth rests against the crown of your head and speaks into your hair, “If he comes back, call me, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble into his chest.

He pulls you away by your shoulders and then he leans down to kiss your cheek affectionately. The action makes your skin warm; he doesn’t pull away though, lips skating across your face and ghosting your lips, the minimal contact makes you gasp and your heart skip a beat.

He pulls away suddenly, “I’ll talk to you later.” He says hurriedly, opening your door.

“Have a good day,” you manage to say, almost normally.

He hums a noise of agreeance and then he’s gone.

After he leaves, you lock the door, and then your fingers skate over your lips, thinking about how he almost kissed you. The thought makes your heartbeat faster, he’s never showed interest in you before, at least, you don’t think he has.

Why did he do that? Did it mean anything? Was it an accident? You have so many questions that will undoubtably linger in the back of your head for the whole day, if not life.

✰ ✰ ✰

The rest of your day is spent cleaning up your messes made during the week, tomorrow you have a shift at work so today is really the only day you have to be able to pick up after yourself properly. It feels so incredibly mundane compared to what you went through last night and this morning. The fear of you ex coming back loiters in the back of your head the whole time you’re shuffling around your apartment.

It's earlier in the evening when you finally get to sit down, having completed your list of chores, along with showering and eating dinner. You feel quite proud of yourself for doing so much, you didn’t go grocery shopping like you had planned but you think for now, what you have done is more than enough. Leaving your apartment right now is a scary thought, he could be waiting for you outside the building, or around the street corner. You’re overthinking it but it is also very possible, he was terrifying this morning. It shocks you thinking about how he was in your life for so long and you hadn’t noticed anything bad enough to break up with him sooner.

A knock on your door brings you back from your thoughts, you’re apprehensive about answering the door, you aren’t expecting anyone. The person knocks again and your stomach drops, it’s him.

“Go away,” you call out.

“Just let me in, Jesus – talk to me,” your ex is irritable.

You get up and move closer to the door before saying, “You lost your right to talk to me last night.”

“You’re being such a bitch,” he says.

“I’ll call Johnny,” you try threatening.

“Oooo, I’m so scared of some old guy,” he feigns fear, but you know better, he is scared of Johnny.

You walk into the lounge room and pick up your phone, calling him.

His phone only rings a couple times before he picks up, “Hey, doll. You okay?”

From the door you can hear your ex call out to you, “Are you actually calling him?”

Johnny hears him too, “Is he back already?”

“Yeah… Sorry,” you feel bad calling him again so soon.

“Don’t apologise, I told you to call if he came back, you did good by calling me,” he says, his praise making you feel some type of way.

“I’ll be there soon, don’t talk to him,” he directs.

“I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before hanging up.

You grab your bat and hang out in the kitchen, hiding below the counters and watching the front door. Your ex doesn’t speak again, he doesn’t even knock and you briefly wonder if he left.

The wait doesn’t take long, and you know it’s Johnny when you hear the key turn in the lock. He enters the apartment and you pop up from behind the kitchen counters, still holding your bat. He shakes his head at you, amused at the sight of you appearing from nowhere.

Turning around he makes sure to lock the door and walks to you in the kitchen, “You okay, sugar?”

“You’re always asking me that,” you comment.

“I always want you to be okay,” he retorts.

You smile at him, “I’m okay.”

“Good,” he nods his head to the door, “He wasn’t out there.”

“I thought so, I think he heard me on the phone to you.” Your ex must’ve been too scared to face Johnny again, whatever threat he gave working, for now.

“Pussy,” Johnny insults him, it has you laughing lightly. “He really doesn’t like me, do you know why, doll? He ever tell you?” He’s curious.

You hum and look away from him, “No idea.”

“You’re lying.”

“How insulting, I have never lied to you,” you’re looking back at him, trying your best to look innocent.

Both his brows raise at you, “Not from lack of trying.”

You squint your eyes at him, “I am a good girl, I don’t lie, smoke, drink, party… so on and so forth,” you’re being facetious.

“Yes, you are a very good girl, so tell me the truth, mmm?” He practically purrs at you, with the way he spoke to you and how he’s looking at you right now, you’d tell him anything he wanted to know.

“Okay, so maybe I do know why he dislikes you,” you cave but can you be blamed?

He raises a single brow at you, encouraging you to continue.

Fiddling with your hands, you’re hesitant to tell him, “Mmm, so maybe he thinks that we’ve been… hooking up.”

“What?” His eyes are wide.

“He accused me of sleeping with you… which I assured him was not the case and that we’re just friends… but he didn’t believe me, and maybe he called me a whore for sleeping with you and not him…” you can’t look him in the eyes right now.

“I don’t even know where to start,” his expression is confused. “I want to injure him… badly, for calling you a whore,” he starts, his eyes burning.

“I just want him to leave me alone,” you murmur.

“If I break his legs he’ll have to leave you alone for three… to six months, depending on where I break him,” he remarks.

You shake your head at him, sighing.

He continues, “He’s a dumbass for accusing you of sleeping with me,” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Are you done?” You ask.

“I have one more question, and since you’re such a good girl, you’re going to answer it without tip toeing around it,” his tone only a little bit teasing.

You look sceptical, trying to save face you say, “Maybe.”

“Why would he think you’re sleeping with me and not him,” he asks.

You avert his gaze quickly, “Well… you see, that’s a bit more complicated.”

“How?” He’s direct.

“So…” You trail off.

“No, don’t do that, don’t skirt around your answer… and look at me,” his tone absolute.

You look back to him, your eyes worried, “I’ve not slept with him… or anyone for that matter… as for why he thinks I’m sleeping with you, probably insecurity,” you shrug your shoulders at him.

Johnny looks surprised by your confession, whatever he was expecting you to say, it wasn’t that.

“You’re a virgin?” He clarifies.

You nod your head at him, “Yes…”

“Well shit, sugar, I didn’t mean to make you tell me something that private.” He feels bad.

“It’s not private, I’m not ashamed or anything, I just haven’t wanted to sleep with the men I’ve dated.” Which is true, you’ve been attracted to them, you just haven’t desired them enough to let them have you completely.

“I just feel like whoever I do sleep with, I should crave their touch, and I haven’t… felt that way about the men I’ve dated,” you’ve only wanted one person that way and he’s standing in front of you. Much to your dismay.

“So, your idiot little ex, has somehow got it in his head that you want me?” He asks, big smile on his face.

Frowning, you say, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.”

“Sorry doll, trying not to be but it’s a bit of an ego boost,” he chuckles.

“Like you need one,” you quip. Undeniably though, his confidence is something that makes you feel hot and bothered.

He smiles at you devilishly, going to say something before there’s a knock on your door.

Johnny groans, “Does he not give up or what?”

Another, harsher knock.

“That’s it, I’m kicking his ass,” he starts walking to the front door.

You jog to get in front of him, “No, Johnny, you can’t.”

“I’m fairly certain I can,” he huffs but he stops walking.

You give him a pointed look, “your career?”

“Didn’t I tell you earlier today that I don’t care?”

“I care,” you give him your softest eyes, begging with him not to resort to violence.

He groans in annoyance at how well it works on him, “Arghh, fine.”

“Thank–”

“–But, you should moan so he thinks we’re fucking,” he says, smiling like he’s come up with some master plan.

It’s embarrassing to admit to him but, “I don’t… know what I’d sound like.”

“Never even touched yourself, doll?” His question makes your face feel hot. His bluntness a lot for you, it makes you feel fuzzy.

“I have… I just never really made any noises,” you answer him hesitantly.

Looking at Johnny, he has a very serious look on his face, eyes dark. You only see it for a second before he’s smiling sweetly at you, “Bet you make the cutest sounds,” he teases.

He stalks towards you and you walk backwards, you end up with your back against the wall by the door. Johnny has caged you in against it, one of his hands resting on the wall beside your head.

His voice is low, “Wanna find out?”

You look up at him, “Find out what?”

More loud knocking comes out from beside you, your ex still there, still refusing to leave, “I am not going anywhere!” He calls out.

You turn your head to look at the door, but Johnny’s hand pulls your face back to his, “Keep your eyes on me and answer my question, sugar.”

“What was your question?” You don’t remember.

His fingers play with the strap of your pyjama shirt, “Wanna find out how you sound?”

“What?”

He tuts, “Simple yes or no, sweetness.”

The skin of his fingers brushing against your shoulder has a shudder threatening to run down your spine, he’s arousing you and you don’t feel sure in a lot of things but you feel pretty damn sure in yourself as you say.

“Yes.”

He grins, pleased with your answer, “Can’t hold back, gotta let yourself make noise, okay?”

Nodding your head, you agree.

“Perfect.”

His hand that was playing with your shirt slips down to your hip, holding you there before asking, “Are you wet?”

Your thighs involuntarily clench at his question, “Yeah.”

“What from,” he presses you for more answers.

His hand slips under your sleep shorts but not into your panties, his two middle fingers massage your pussy over your underwear, he can feel the wet patch on the front of them that had formed. Your mind drifts, losing yourself in his light touch.

“Gotta answer, sugar.” He reminds you.

You bring your focus back to his words, “From you…”

“What about me?” His pointer and ring fingers spread your folds through your panties, wet noises resulting from the action, “Fffuck, listen to how wet you are.”

You want to shrink in on yourself, his brazen words embarrassingly hot. His middle finger pets at your clit gently, the stimulation makes you gasp and one of your hands grabs at the wrist of the hand he has on the wall beside your head, the other resting flat against the wall.

“C’mon doll, pay attention,” he chastises.

“The way you – ngh – talk to me,” you confess maybe a little too easily.

“What specifically?” He’s too curious for someone touching you in a way that makes it difficult for coherent thought.

His middle finger is still gently grazing your clit, never straying, the stimulation making you so wet. Your panties no doubt ruined under his ministrations.

“Your voice, your praise, nicknames – hah, jus like the way you talk to me,” you feel breathless.

“Mmm, like being praised? Told what to do?” He asks in a mocking manner.

You’re lacking any critical thinking skills right now though, because you normally wouldn’t feed his ego so much, “By you, yes.”

“Fuck sugar,” he curses, your honesty getting to him.

His finger still stroking you over your underwear, your hips twitching in response to it. He hums at you, enjoying how much you’re squirming below him.

“Johnny,” you call to him, his name coming out whiny.

His response is far away, “Mmm?” he doesn’t look up to you, instead he pulls your shorts all the way down, wanting to watch the way he plays with your clit over your panties.

He adds more pressure to the finger stroking you, the feeling making you gasp, an almost moan slipping from you. Without realising, you hold it back and it comes out strangled.

“Not supposed to hold back, doll.” He reminds you quickly.

But you’re still conscious of your ex lingering in your hallway, something that Johnny is also aware of, which is why he wants you to be louder. He decides to pulls your panties down, removing his fingers from your pussy to do so.

The loss of contact has a whimper exiting you and Johnny chuckles at the sound.

“Needy aren’t ya?” He hums at you, amused.

You huff at him, not really appreciating the teasing.

His fingers move back to your pussy, sliding through your very wet cunt, spreading your slick around, his chest rumbling with a growl at how wet you are. Your thighs are wet and your whole lower half is slippery. The teasing he’s put you through too much, you’re beyond horny and you really just need him to touch you.

You look up at him, eyes big and wet, pleading with him to touch you properly without asking aloud.

The hand by your head moves to cup the side of your face, his smile is large as he looks at you. Enjoying the way you’re falling apart in the palm of his hand. He shows you pity though, and his finger slips to your pussy hole, gently pushing into you. Your cunt spasms lightly around it and he sighs a groan at the feeling.   

“Damn sugar, you’re… fucken soaked,” he comments.

You don’t reply to him, you can’t, too lost in the feeling of his large finger carefully pushing into you. The hand he has on your face still holding you, making you look at him. His thumb pulls your bottom lip down, his eyes mesmerised by your expression. You have a soft and needy look on your face, eyelids low, your breaths whiny. He’s enamoured by you, getting lost for a moment.

But he remembers himself and removes his hand from your face, instead holding your hip, your back arching off the wall slightly. He pushes his finger in the rest of the way, stroking against your walls, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

Your breaths turn into whimpers and as he pulls his finger in and out, you moan in response, the feeling overwhelming. Your hips are writhing in his grip, and your head is thrown back on the wall, moans growing louder.

He holds your hips steady, gaze flicking between the way your cunt is sucking his finger in and the fucked-out expression you’re wearing on your face. Your chest rising and falling quickly with your breaths.

For the first time in a while, he’s lost for words, he doesn’t even want to say anything. Just wants to push you over the edge, have you moaning and writhing against the wall for him. He’s painfully hard and ignoring it, but his dick twitches every time your cunt tightens or moans get louder.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Your ex pounds on the door, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

You had forgotten about him, too lost in your own pleasure. You squeak at his yelling and bite your lip.

“Don’t you fucken dare, need you to keep making those noises, sugar,” Johnny’s thumb tugs your lip free of your teeth.

The pounding beside your head gets louder, your ex yelling belligerently at the two of you, cursing Johnny out.

“She has the tightest little cunt!” Johnny calls out to your ex, just to piss him off further.

“Johnny,” you try admonishing him but his name borders on a whimper. The feeling of his finger moving in and out of you affecting you. Your moans are barely contained.

Your ex smacks the door harshly once before yelling at the two of you, “I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

He murmurs curses, calling you names and yelling about how he was right the whole time, before you hear his stomping feet walk away. Seemingly leaving.

Briefly you wonder if Johnny will stop touching you now that your ex has left but if anything, his pace increases, his finger fucking into you quickly, thumb circling your clit firmly. Your moans spill from you, breaking off into whimpers. Johnny has a feral look on his face as he watches his finger fuck into you.

The wet sounds of your pussy getting louder with his increase in speed. His hand on your hip again, keeping you still. His forehead leans forward and rests against yours, you can’t help but watch his lips, wanting him to kiss you.

He’s busy watching your cunt, “Fuck, sugar, really do have the tightest pussy.” You shudder at his words and he continues talking, “Fucken, messy too.”

Your hands claw at the wall behind you, trying to brace yourself against something sturdy.

“Can I add another?” He asks, wanting to stuff you full of his fingers.

“Please,” it’s a desperate sound that escapes you.

His middle finger pulls out to add his ring finger alongside it, both pressing into you gently, not getting far with how tight you are. The width of them stretching you open, burning slightly. His thumb keeps rubbing at your clit, trying to ease the stretch.

“Relax, doll,” he directs.

Taking a deep breath in, you relax slightly and Johnny takes advantage of it, slipping his fingers into you completely.

A keening whine pulls from you at being full of his large fingers.

“Thas it, such a good girl for me,” he groans out at you.

Your pussy clenches down on his fingers at his praise and a soft moan escapes from him, his composure slipping for a moment. If you had your wits about you, you’d notice how his own eyes look a little fucked out, that he’s worked himself up so much just from finger fucking you.

His hand on your hip grips you tighter, grounding himself. Both his fingers fucking into you in earnest, determined to have you cumming on them. His pace picking up to what it was previously, your walls clinging to him desperately. His own breathing is coming quick.

You’re teetering on the edge of something beautiful, “Feels like too much,” you whine at him.

“It’s meant to feel like that,” he coos at you, pity in his voice.

His fingers are persistent and so big and your cunt is fluttering around him with how close you are. Your eyes close, eyebrows knitting together against the pleasure. You feel something brush against your lips, so softly, that you think you imagine it.

Johnny removes his hand on your hip, grabbing your face again. Thumb coming up to your mouth and pushing inside it, you take it, wrapping your lips around it and sucking. He groans at the sight and feel of your warm, wet mouth. He pushes his thumb down onto your tongue, you’re salivating against it, drooling slightly.

The pleasure he’s giving you is so much, from never being touched by someone like this to being touched by someone whose touch feels like he’s attempting to pull you apart from the very depths of your being, is an insane jump. His presence alone crushes you; this is a completely new experience.

Your cunt pulses around his fingers, your moans muffled around his thumb. Johnny’s eyes drop from your face and look down between you both, watching your pussy, again. Infatuated with how you’re taking his fingers.

“C’mon doll, can feel you, you’re so fucken close,” his voice is strained as he talks.

But his voice is devastating to you, the gruffness of it sends you over the edge, your hands paw at his chest, needing something to hold onto. His thumb removes itself from your mouth, grabbing one of your hands instead and interlocking fingers with you.

Your hips grind down into his hand, riding out your high, moans tumbling from your lips as you throw your head back, his name mixed in with your moans. Distantly, you can hear Johnny moan at your orgasm, delighted by the state of you. Your breathing is harsh, chest moving quickly, you feel far away from your body. Hearing poor with how the blood is rushing through your head.

Johnny pulls his fingers from you carefully, you’re watching him through dazed eyes, slumped against the wall. His own eyes looking at his fingers and the way they’re soaked in your slick and cum. He shocks you when he licks them clean before putting them in his mouth, sucking you off them. He hums around his own fingers at the taste of you.

The display is obscene and has a small whimper being pulled from your chest. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, keeping eye contact with you. His heated look making you squirm a bit.

He shoots you a charming smile, “I was right, you do make cute sounds.”

You cover your face with your hands, wanting to escape his penetrating gaze.

Johnny locates your shorts and helps put them back on you, he kisses the top of your head, “I got carried away, doll. I’m sorry.”

Pulling your hands away, you look at him. He’s wearing a troubled expression, disappointed in himself, seemingly, out of nowhere.

“It’s okay.” You assure him.

He shakes his head, “No it’s not, I should’ve known better, I’m older than you. Shouldn’t have done this.”

You’re getting a bit annoyed, you’re an adult and you told him yes when he asked, “Johnny, I agreed.” You try reminding him.

“Doesn’t matter, should’ve controlled myself.” He’s getting hung up on his morals, frustrated in his actions tonight.

“I could’ve stopped you if I didn’t want it,” you push.

He looks at you dubiously, something telling you that his internal struggle is deeper than what he’s sharing with you.

“I should go, doll. I am so sorry.” He apologises again, but there isn’t anything he needs to apologise for.

He doesn’t touch you as he leaves, he looks like he wants to, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rushes out the door, not letting you argue with him any further. You hear him lock the door with his key as he leaves.

You’re left leaning against the wall, shell shocked as to what the hell just happened. He gave you your first and best orgasm and then left suddenly. Acting like he’s committed some kind of crime.

Calling him doesn’t work, he won’t pick up and he hasn’t replied to any of your texts. You don’t think he realises that he hadn’t fucked up before but he certainly has now, because what the fuck???

✰ ✰ ✰

By the next morning, Johnny still hasn’t replied and you have to go to work. You’re extra cautious as you leave your apartment, anxious about your ex possibly approaching you. Luckily he isn’t anywhere to be seen and you make it to work with no issues. Though, you did feel like somebody was watching you for a bit, you chalk it up to your nerves. The past few days not really doing great things for your psyche.

Your shift is a long one, gruelling. The whole day you’re thinking about your ex harassing you all day yesterday and when you finally think about something else, it’s about how Johnny is ghosting you.

On your break you try messaging him again, telling him it’s fine and if he regrets it that much to just forget about it. You aren’t going to be clingy and make him marry you or something now, if you knew how this would end, you wouldn’t have said yes. You don’t regret what happened but you will if you lose him as a friend over it. You want to convey that to him but you aren’t the best at communicating your feelings, things come out wrong and weird in your desperation to explain your thoughts.

So, you settle for sending him a text that boils down to ‘if you regret it, we can just forget it. I’m not mad at you’. Though, you feel like that might bite you in the ass later.

When your shift is finally over, you don’t want to go home. A bad feeling consuming your whole body, worried about what you might come face to face with. Worried you might run into your ex on the way back. You’d appreciate having one of your work friends walk you back but you don’t know any of them well enough to ask, and you don’t wanna call Johnny right now, not that he’d pick up anyways.  

The walk back is tense, you’re on edge and when you get to your apartment, you realise you were right to be so. Your apartment door has a hole in it where it’s been kicked in, picking up your phone, you call Johnny but of course he’s still avoiding you. So, you leave a message for him and instead call the cops.

You wait for them to arrive; it doesn’t take them long but they weren’t quick about it either. They check it out for you, making sure it’s empty and when they confirm that it is, they tell you so. You walk into your apartment and they ask you a few questions.

You tell them, “I know who did it, it was my ex, he harassed me all day yesterday.”

“Did you report him?” One of them asks.

“Not at the time, but I didn’t think he’d do this,” you raise your hands, gesturing to your ransacked apartment.

“We can’t do much without actual proof, next time you’ll just have to hope to catch him in the act.” The other says.

“We will keep record of this, but yeah, unless you get actual evidence, we can’t do anything about him,” The first one adds.

You could definitely question him, you think.

This is why you didn’t want to deal with the cops in the first place, they never give a shit about things like this until someone is dead.

“Yeah thanks, I’ll be sure to prioritise that next time,” you tone is facetious but you can’t help it, your home has been broken into and possibly robbed and they couldn’t give less of a fuck.

They ignore your attitude, “If you find that some of your items are missing, report it, we’ve got another call to go on, stay safe.” And then they’re both leaving you there, in your messed up apartment.

The place you’re meant to feel safe has been broken into by someone you had dated for a year, someone you used to trust and now you’re just left here. Knowing that he’s still out there and could come back whenever he wants, they didn’t even ask for his name. What are you meant to do? Where are you meant to go? Cause there is no way in hell that you’re staying here.

You’ll have to look for hotels in the area, you’ve only made a few friends here and most of them are campus living. Also, you’d prefer people didn’t know about this. You’re feeling incredibly vulnerable and alone at the moment.

Looking around the room, you see that heaps of your breakables have been chucked around, he broke your tv, some of your favourite mugs, a framed picture of you and Johnny. He’s made holes in some of the walls and flipped over furniture.

Sighing, you go to check your room, and sadly, it didn’t fare any better, it looks like he cut open your mattress and tore up some of your clothes. A lamp broken and on the floor. Right after you just cleaned up the day before too, ironic.

You hear the sound of shuffling in the entryway, stuff being walked into, it makes you freeze in your spot. The footsteps become frantic, walking quickly around your apartment before heading towards where you are at the end of the hall in your bedroom. There isn’t anything you can grab as self-defence, but it’s okay because you see when he enters the room that it’s just Johnny. He was the one stomping around quickly, worried about you.

“Oh my God, why didn’t you pick up the phone, been calling you.” He stresses as he walks up to you, pulling you into his embrace.

You don’t hug him back, annoyed at him, but he doesn’t stop hugging you anyways.

“I put my phone down in the lounge room, didn’t think you were gonna call.” You weren’t expecting him to come, you weren’t even expecting him to check his texts from you, let alone a voicemail.

He huffs, agitated with himself, because yeah this is on him, “I’m sorry, I’ll always come when you call.”

“I called you first,” your voice shakes, tears threatening to fall.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

A tear slips down your cheek, “Don’t want you to be sorry, wanted you to be here.”

“I know, doll, I–” You think he was going to apologise again but cuts himself off, “What happened?” He still hasn’t let you go, and you still won’t hug him back.

“Came home from work, saw my door had been kicked in so I called you, you didn’t answer, so I called the cops.” You detail.

He asks, “What did they say?”

“They can’t do anything to him without proof,” you’re crying now, remembering just how unhelpful they were.

He pulls back to look at you, his thumb wiping away your tears, his hands holding your face gently, “What do you mean?”

“That’s what they said, they can’t do anything without evidence. This will be kept on record but because I have no proof, they can’t do anything about him.” You sigh out.

Johnny looks unbelievably pissed.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, he broke so many of my things, I don’t know where to go,” you’re almost sobbing now, working yourself up.

“Calm down,” he shushes you, “You’ll be staying with me.” Your expression is doubtful, “What’s that look for?” He questions.

“You literally just ghosted me out of nowhere, over an imaginary problem that you created,” you remind him.

His hands let go of your face and land on your shoulders, “That was me being stupid about me being stupid, I fucked up, but I am here for you and you will stay with me.” He cements, not really leaving you any room to disagree.

Tears are still falling down your cheeks, you wipe at them with the back of your hand, “Okay.”

“Good, now pack a bag,” he lets go of your shoulders.

Locating one of your suitcases, you pack as many clothes as you think you’ll need, as quickly as you need, not wanting to stay here any longer than necessary. You also grab some of your basic necessities and memorabilia.

On your way to the front door Johnny carries your bag, “Wait a sec,” you call out to him.

He stops where he is and you walk over to the lounge room, picking through the glass on the floor.

“Be careful,” he warns.

Humming at him in response, mostly ignoring him, you fish out the photo of the two of you. It’s one of your favourites and you’d hate to lose it.

Johnny’s expression is curious, “What is it?”

“Us,” you turn the photo around to show him, “It’s my favourite.”

He smiles at the photo before he frowns, “What a freak, real insecure guy,” he says in reference to your ex.

You smile a bit, because yeah your ex is very insecure and a huge freak but, “You literally fingered me within earshot of him.”

Johnny pouts and looks away, “Still…”

“Let’s leave,” you save him from whatever he was going to say in protest.

He nods at you, “Sounds good, sugar.”

✰ ✰ ✰

Walking through the lobby of Johnny’s apartment is always a bit of a shock, his apartment is nicer and has actual front desk security. You can already tell that you’ll feel safer here, even if you were left alone. You can’t help but feel a little bad for him though, he loved his mansion and he had to sell it.

The ride up the elevator is quiet, which you’re thankful for right now, you’re not really in a conversational mood. Just wanting to shower and get out of your work clothes, wash off the day in general.

Inside his apartment, he shows you to the guest room and drops your bag onto the bed.

Turning to him, you ask, “Can I have a shower?”

“I dunno, can you?”

You scowl at him, “May I have a shower?”

“You may,” he smiles cheekily.

He shows you to the bathroom, you’ve been here before but he’s a thorough man, double checking that you’re comfortable and know where everything is. When you affirm that you will be okay and have everything under control, he’s leaving you to your own devices, wandering off into the living area.

Grabbing your toiletries first before you’re immediately getting inside the shower. All too ready for the comfort the warm water will give you. You let the water run over you, allowing yourself a moment to lose your composure, letting yourself cry under the water. Things could be worse but they could also be better and in this private moment in the shower, you let yourself feel like the world is ending.

After you’ve finished in the shower, you towel yourself off quickly, walking to the guest room with the towel wrapped around you, having left your clothes in there. But as you shuffle the clothes around in your suitcase, you notice you’ve not packed any pyjamas, and now you want to cry again. Because how are you so stupid as to forget pyjamas.

Stopping yourself from spiralling, you take a few deep breaths and go looking for Johnny, you’ll just have to borrow a shirt of his. You find him in the kitchen, sipping on a drink.

“Johnny?” You call out to him; his back is facing you.

He hums as he turns around, eyes growing wide as he realises you’re only wearing a towel.

“What’s up, sugar?” He’s straining himself to keep looking into your eyes and not anywhere else.

Rocking on the balls of your feet a bit, you tell him, “I forgot pjs, do you have a shirt I can borrow or something?”

His gaze is distant for a second, you walk closer to him and wave a hand in front of his face. He catches you by the wrist, “Sure I do, gimmie a sec,” he smiles at you, his eye twitching the slightest bit as he talks.

He wanders away for a few moments, when he reappears, he’s holding a shirt of his. It’s long sleeved and has different coloured sleeves to the rest of the shirt, you gratefully accept it.

“Thank you,” you say, walking away hastily to change.

You hear him hum out a response to you as you waddle away quickly.

When you slip it over your head, you first note how soft and warm it is, and second you note how large it is on you. It covers your lower half fairly well, but you didn’t ask for bottoms and he didn’t give you any so you pick out a pair of boy short underwear, they aren’t anything special but they do have little stars all over them.

Anyways, they’ll do as more conservative bottoms for the night, you’ll go to get some of your pyjamas tomorrow. For now, these will pass as shorts, kind of, it’s unlikely they’ll even be seen anyways. Are you overthinking this? You feel like you’re overthinking this.

Exiting the room, you go back to the kitchen and notice that Johnny isn’t there anymore, nor is he in the lounge room. Shuffling around his kitchen, you look at his ingredients, wanting to cook him something as a thank you for taking you in temporarily.

He hasn’t got heaps but you can make a carbonara, he has the basics for it, pasta, cream, bacon, etc. You think this will do nicely, though mostly you’ve just talked yourself into wanting pasta.

When Johnny comes back into the kitchen, you’re standing by the stove making the cream. Quickly glancing to him, you realise he’s also showered. He looks good, domestic. In a casual t shirt and sweatpants, your eyes linger for a bit longer than what’s appropriate. Swiftly snapping your head back to the stove when you notice you’re staring for too long.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’,” he sing songs to you, coming up to stand by your side.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, “Creamy carbonara.”

“Smells good,” he comments.

“That would be the bacon,” you nod your head to the bacon bits you had previously cooked.

When you look up to him, he’s already looking down at you. His eyes are filled with a kind of affection for you that you’ve never taken any notice of. His eyes flit from your eyes to your lips, his hand coming up and grabbing the side of your face, thumb stroking high on your cheek bone.

You lean into his hand and he’s dipping down to you, “You look good in my shirt,” he whispers to you, lips almost touching.

Just as he’s about to take your lips in his, there’s a bubbling sounds coming from the stove.

“Ah, the pasta!” You move out of his grasp quickly, lowering the heat on the stove. It had almost boiled over in your distraction, “Go away! You’ll make me ruin something!”

“Wanna ruin you,” he mutters as he walks away, though you don’t hear him.

“What?” You ask him as he walks away.

He calls out, “Nothing!”

His restraint is wearing thin around you and he wonders briefly, if having you here is going to end well. He almost folded just from you wearing his shirt and cooking for him, he has to find a grip and hold it.

Seemingly, you are completely unaware of his own internal conflict, happily humming to yourself in his kitchen, cooking a meal for the both of you. Johnny watches you from the breakfast bar, enjoying the sight of you flitting around his kitchen.

“Where are your plates?” You ask him.

“Bottom cupboards, by the stove,” he answers.

Bending down you open the cupboards but there’s only baking trays and other miscellaneous oven trays in here. He watches as you bend over, enjoying the sight of his t shirt riding up, seeing your small ‘shorts’ as it does.

You huff, standing up, “No they aren’t.” You turn around to look at him.

“I know, I lied,” he smiles innocently at you.

Scowling at him you ask, “Why?”

He avoids the question, “Just cause,” he shrugs at you, “they’re actually in the bottom cupboards on the other side.”

You look at him sceptically, walking closer to him and looking in the cupboards again, and this time he told you the truth. Grabbing two plates, you place them on the bench top.

Choosing to ignore him, you continue humming a mindless tune as you dish out the pasta. When you’re finished, you slide the plate over to him. Walking yourself around the counter so you’re next to him, you sit beside him and reach forward, dragging your plate to yourself, ready to feast.

“Thanks, doll,” he says.

“Mmm, thank me when you’ve tried it,” you remark.

You both sit in a comfortable silence whilst you eat, which you are grateful for. You’re hungry and want to eat without having to stop to talk. The food tastes good, probably one of the better ones you’ve made, it’s an easy recipe, one of your go to’s and it never fails to fill a hole in your heart where pasta lives.

After you’ve finished, you get up to clean up but Johnny stops you, “Ah, you cooked, I’ll clean.”

“But I’m the one that made the mess,” you contend.

He looks at you with a brow raised, expression reading as ‘really?’ You sigh and allow him to take your plate. As he bends over your shoulder to take it, he kisses your cheek, “It was very good, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He stands at the sink, rinsing the plates off before putting them in the dishwasher, “What made you cook?”

“A thank you, for letting me stay,” you smile watching him clean up, “I’m being a good house guest.”

“Ah, can I expect a cooked meal every night then?” He teases.

Your face pulls up in a joking scowl, “Absolutely not! You can cook tomorrow… and the day after and the day after.”

“I see, so it was a one-time deal,” he nods in understanding.

“Can’t give it away for free, you gotta want it,” you joke.

A quiet falls over the both of you for a moment, neither of you sure what to say next.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You ask him.

He’s moved away from the sink and is back at the bench, arms holding himself up on it as he looks at you deviously, “What movie?”

You know what he wants, “Not one of yours.”

“That’s not very nice, doll,” he groans out in complaint.

Arguing with him, you say, “I have already seen all of your films, we are not watching one tonight.”

“Whoever gets the remote picks the movie,” he states quickly before making a run for the lounge room.

You aren’t as quick as him, scrabbling out of your chair to chase after him, “Johnny, not fair!” You don’t even know where his tv remote is.

When you make it into the lounge, he’s already holding the remote, wiggling it back and forth, taunting you. Groaning, you trudge up to him.

“That was not fair,” you complain.

He has a large victorious smile on his face, “Wasn’t trying to be fair, sugar. I was trying to win.”

Trying to be sneaky, you move closer to him, but he holds a hand up as you approach, “Ah ah, stay where you are, I won,” he informs.

“I’m not doing anything,” you shrug.

He keeps moving away from you, you’ve successfully rounded him so that his back is facing the couch now. Moving closer to him, he has no where else to go. It doesn’t bother him though, he squares his posture, holding his ground.

“I wouldn’t recommend whatever you’re about to do, doll.” He warns you.

You repeat again, “I’m not doing anything.”

Standing right up against him now, you go to quickly grab the remote but he moves it up and away hurriedly. You grab onto his forearm and try to pull it down as you jump for it, he’s laughing at you. His evasion of your attempts at grabbing the remote are effortless, you’re still trying to pull his arm down to you but you think he’d sooner be able to hold all your weight on one of his arms, than you bringing it down to you.

This isn’t working, you need a new plan. Pulling back, you look up at him.

“That won’t work on me,” he says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” comes your reply.

“That,” he gestures towards your face, “Looking at me all cute like, won’t work, not tonight.”

You smile sweetly at him, “But another night, it would work?”

He squints at you, unsure of what you’re planning, “Maybe…”

Your plan wasn’t anything along these lines, but it’s fun to know that apparently you could get him to bend to your will in different circumstances with just a sweet look.

Stretching up, you go for the remote again, he steadily holds it out of reach, “C’mon sugar, you know this isn’t working–”

You take the chance while he’s talking to jump up on him, legs wrapping around his hips, your hands making a move for the remote. He’s shocked, his free arm automatically coming to rest under you to hold you steady. The only thing he can think to do, is drop the remote onto the floor and kick it across the room, away from the both of you.

“No!” You protest, moving to unwrap yourself from him and go after the remote.

Johnny holds you to him though, before using his grip on you to chuck you down onto the couch, you’re laughing and struggling against him, still protesting. You don’t stop wiggling, even though he’s straddled you and is holding your wrists down to the couch.

“Stop squirming so much,” he chuckles at you. The shirt you’re wearing has ridden up your hips, exposing your underwear completely to him, “Those are really cute, doll,” he teases you.

“You can’t distract me, we are not watching one of your movies,” your wrists struggle against his grasp.

“I can hold you here all night, sweetness,” his smile devilish.

You scowl at him, “If it means we don’t watch your movie, then go right ahead.”

His threat isn’t much of a threat to you, in this moment you feel yourself growing wet at his harsh hold on you. The way he effortlessly overpowered you making you feel some kind of way, you find yourself wishing he’d fuck you into the couch. You’re working yourself up the longer he holds you here. Your thighs lightly clenching at the thought of being opened up on his cock, the first man you’d ever be with.

“What are you thinking bout, sugar?” He asks, catching the faraway look in your eyes.

You blink once and shake the thoughts out of your head, “thinking about how much I don’t wanna watch your movie,” you retort.

“Aww you’re hurting my feelings here, doll.” His expression faux sadness.

Both of you looking into each other’s eyes, neither of you planning to cave, at least not anytime soon. Johnny has enough of it and decides to play dirty, his hands leaving your wrists and instead come up to tickle at your sides and ribcage.

Laughs fall from your lips, along with pleas trying to ask him to stop. The feeling making it harder to breathe, you’re taking in big breaths in between gasping laughs. Your body tries wiggling away from him, you manage to flip onto your stomach and try to crawl away from him but his thighs keep you locked in place, if anything you’re more immobile now. His tickling is unrelenting and you feel like you might pass out.

Tapping the couch as you say, “Okay, okay! I concede, just please stop!”

He hums and leans down from above you, whispering into your ear, “Good girl.”

You hide your face in the couch, skin hot and pussy aching, he isn’t being very nice to you tonight. Working you up, leaving you high and dry. He hops off you and grabs the remote, lifting your legs and sitting back down, resting them in his lap.

He slaps your leg lightly, “C’mon, you have to watch it now.”

Grumbling to yourself as you move up in a sitting position next to him, expression none too pleased. He’s smiling brilliantly at you though, overjoyed with his victory.

Sighing as you sink back into the couch, “I dislike you right now.”

“Well, I like you a whole lot right now,” He counters.

He flicks the movie on and you get about a third of the way into it when your eyelids start slipping shut, tired from the very difficult last couple days.

Thankfully, your dreams are pleasant, though they are filled with Johnny, mostly memories of last night, when you were stuffed full of his fingers, the sounds he was making, the words he spoke to you.

Your mind conjures images of him fucking you, how he would look above you, grabbing your hips as he rocked his dick in and out of you. The dream is pleasant, the feelings it offers you divine.

Suddenly, you’re being pulled back to your body, you awaken with a jolt.

“You fell asleep! That’s really rude of you, y’know. Hurting my feelings here, doll,” he criticizes you.

Based on the last scene you remember watching and where you are now, he either let you sleep for a while, or didn’t realise you were asleep.

You wipe at your eyes, “Mm sorry,” you mumble, stretching out a little.

He’s got an evil smile on his face when you look him in the eyes, “You were moaning.”

“Was not!” You don’t believe him.

“You definitely were, and I’d know,” his smile large as he teases you, “It was cute, what were you dreaming about, mmm?” he hums in delight.

You wonder for a moment what his end goal is here, he teases you but never follows through, aside from the other night but then he seemingly regretted that right after it happened. You decide to try something outside of your comfort zone.

You look at him, “And if I told you I was dreaming of you?”

He goes to shut you down, “I don’t–”

“–If I told you how wet I am right now, from thinking of you?”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” You press.

“You know damn well ‘why not’,” He argues, “I’m older than you, and you’re a virgin!” He tells you these things like you don’t already know.

“…I want you, making my panties all wet,” you’re squirming in your seat lightly.

He groans out at your words, “Doll…” his expression is pained.

Feeling insecure you ask, “Do you not want me?”

“Are you kidding?” Dubious expression on his face, “You get me so hard, doll.”

“Then why won’t you even kiss me?”

“I want to, all the time,” he confesses.

You crawl across the couch and straddle his lap, his hands come up to your hips straight away. Grip digging into your skin, restraining his desire, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you how he wants.

“Why don’t you,” you press him for answers.

“Don’t trust myself around you, can’t help but tease you, touch you,” his grip on your hips tightens for a second, “The last thing I wanna do is take advantage of you.”

“I want you to take advantage of me,” the statement is true, you’ve never wanted to be with a man more than you do him.

He’s using every fibre of his being to control himself right now, refusing to do any more than hold you, his hands are holding you away from his lap. Knowing if he feels the warmth of your cunt through your panties, he’s going to lose his mind and all self-control.

Bringing your hands up, you place them on his shoulders, and then you lean forwards. Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, moving to the other and placing a kiss there, his breaths become laboured. Your lips travel across his cheek, pecking him as you go, kissing the corner of his mouth, and then a light kiss to his full lips, he sighs against you and kisses you back.

It’s quick, because you’re continuing to peck kisses on his face, a kiss to the other corner of his mouth, and his other cheek again. As you travel back, kiss on the corner of his mouth again, and as you kiss him lightly on his lips, he kisses you back harshly, hands coming up and grabbing your face. He angles you and deepens the kiss, his kiss is desperate for you, fuelled by need.

Without his hands on your hips, you can drop to his lap properly, you sigh at the hardness of his dick against you, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into the kiss. You moan against his mouth in response and he groans.

Tentatively, you grind down into him lightly, needing some kind of friction. He distracts himself with kissing you, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your pussy grinding into his very hard dick. You’re so horny and this isn’t nearly enough for you.

Pulling away from his mouth you complain, “Want more.”

“You really are needy, aren’t ya, doll?” He teases.

But you roll your hips into his and he grunts in response, his hands gripping your hips again, without your lips on his, he’s hyper focused on the way you rut into his dick. You pull his sweats down, his cock bare, he’s not wearing anything under his pants and it has you moaning.

You sit down again; your panties are soaked and the feel of the slippery fabric rubbing up and down his cock has Johnny whimpering. You keep grinding into him, groaning in frustration, wanting more.

His hand grabs onto your panties and rips them from you, just straight up tearing them off your body, the display of strength makes you whimper.

“You gotta do this my way, sugar.” He tells you.

You nod your head at him, you’d probably agree to arson right about now.

“God, so fucken eager.” He chuckles at you, sliding you against him again.

The bare contact has you keening, rutting down onto him with more urgency. Wet squelching noises are filling the room as you slide against his cock, you want him inside you so badly. The thought of having him inside you making your cunt drool on his dick.

“You’re so fucken wet, ffffuck,” Johnny is groaning out, his control of the situation hanging on by a thread.

“I want you inside,” you tell him.

“No,” his voice is stern, it’s a line he refuses to cross.

You huff at him, “Johnny please–”

“ – You can plead all you want, Mm not fucking you, your first time isn’t –nghff– going to be on my damn couch,” his voice is strained.

“Want it,” you tell him, eyes teary with how needy you feel.

“And you think I don’t?” He snaps at you. His reaction makes your heart flutter and your pussy throb, “God, you are sooo –ngh– feel so good, sugar.”

His grip is guiding you now, taking control of the pace, of the pressure. He holds you tightly to him, slipping his cock through your slick folds, the head of his cock bumping your clit. Lewd wet sounds are coming from you and if you weren’t so horny you might’ve been embarrassed at how aroused you are.

The head of his cock catches on your pussy hole and you flutter around the very tip of him, a loud grunt coming from Johnny, his chest rumbling with the force of it.

“Please?” You try again, while he’s weak.

He shakes his head at you, his own expression dazed, “No…” he grits out, cock twitching against you.

You push down a bit on him, his eyes shoot to yours, a restrained kind of anger residing inside them, “I said no.” He scolds.

His chastising makes your cunt flutter against him again and his eyes roll back, he pulls you away from him. He manhandles you onto your back so you’re laying against the couch, he pulls off his shirt before spreading your legs open for him, his hips fitting between them.

Resting his cock between your folds again, slipping against you, “You take what I give you, or you get nothing, doll.”

You hum out a moan, letting him do whatever he wants to you. He tugs his shirt up your chest, exposing your upper half to him, mouth immediately going for one of your nipples, sucking and licking at it. The feeling making you whine, chest rising up into him, hips chasing his.

When he pulls away, he nips at you a bit, a shudder running down your spine. As he looks you in your eyes again he says, “Jesus, you have no idea how fucked out you look right now, pretty little girl, so fucken wet, so goddamn needy.”

He grinds down into you, leaning his body against yours, his weight resting on his forearms beside your head. Your hands grip his bare back, his head rests beside your ear, lips whispering filth to you.

“Want me to fuck you so badly hmm? Won’t fuck any of your little boyfriends –ngh– but you’re beggin’ me for my cock,” his words are disrupted by the moans he lets out at the feeling of your slippery cunt.

“Mhmm,” you agree because, yeah pretty much, “I’d let you do almost –hah–  anything to me,” you tell him.

He curses, “Fucken filthy, you’re making me lose my goddamn mind, doll.”

You wrap your legs around his hips, locking them behind him, his movements grow more urgent, desperately humping into you. He pulls his head from your ear to kiss you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth, it has you moaning into him.

Pulling back, he checks, “Let me do anything?”

You nod your head at him in confirmation.

“Open your mouth,” his thumb tugs your lip down.

You open your mouth for him and he spits into your mouth, onto your tongue, the action makes you gasp, face hot.

“Swallow,” he says, eyelids low.

His voice makes you shudder and you swallow his spit down, the sight of it makes him curse. He kisses you again, taking your breath away. Your fingernails dig into his back.

His hips are rutting into you, pace growing quicker, the wet noises sounding slicker, the way he glides over your clit has your eyes crossing behind closed lids. Your moans turn into whimpers, right on the precipice of cumming.

Johnny pulls his lips back, forehead resting against yours, his brows knit together, moans falling from his lips. His tongue flicks over his lip quickly, you’re gasping under him.

“Look so fucken perfect, doll. Should I keep you like this under me? Play with you how I like, mmm?”

His words and deep voice are what send you over the edge, the idea of him teasing you how he pleases has you cumming. You’re sputtering out nonsensical words, whimpers ruining any words you try to create.

Johnny groans at the sight of you cumming, he looks down between the two of you, enamoured by how he’s sliding through your folds. His cock wet and shiny from your slick and cum, it has a shudder running down his spine.

“Wan you to – nghfffuck me nex time, wan – hah – na be fill with you, –mm–  with your – ngh – cum,” you’re babbling to him, barely making sense to yourself, you aren’t even convinced you’re talking right now.

But Johnny knows you are, your words have him cumming violently, dick jerking against your cunt, his cum spilling all over your pussy and lower stomach. His groans turn into moans, and then he’s whimpering as he keeps rutting against you.

He looks at your lower half and the way his cum has gotten all over you, he uses two fingers to scoop it up and shoves them in your mouth. The taste bitter but you suck his fingers clean, swallowing around them. His gaze is captivated by you, groaning at you eating his cum.

Johnny gets up from you and tugs on his sweats, walking away momentarily and coming back not long later with a washcloth, wiping the rest of his cum off of you. When he’s cleaned it off you, he tugs your shirt back down, giving you back some of your modesty. Wandering off again, he disposes of the cloth and comes back with a glass of water.

“Drink this, sweetness,” he instructs, handing the cup to you.

Sitting up on the couch, you accept the cup and drink it down, appreciating the kindness. He sits beside you and strokes his hands up and down your thighs.

He takes the cup from you and places it out of the way, you’re a little dazed still, lost for words at what just happened.

“This can’t happen again,” he tells you gently.

Your expression is confused, “Why not?”

“I won’t be able to control myself next time.”

“I didn’t want you to this time,” you retort.

“Sugar, it’s not just a couple years between us, it’s a decade,” he stresses, “This is inappropriate.”

“Johnny, I appreciate your concern but I am an adult and I can choose who I sleep with.”

“I don’t want to defile you,” he’s terrified of ruining you somehow, of taking advantage.

“If you don’t want to ‘defile’ me, I’ll go fuck someone else and then it won’t be like I lost my virginity to you.” You’re just teasing him.

“Do not fuck someone else,” the look he gives you is even and serious, not even considering the idea of you having sex with someone else. He doesn’t find your comment funny.

You ask him eagerly, “Does that mean you will have sex with me?”

The look on his face is one of a good man trying so hard to stick to his morals. You smile at him sweetly and he practically melts for you, he grabs you and pulls you to him for a hug. Laying back on the couch with you resting on top of him.

He sighs, “Maybe one day.”

You can work with that for now, you smile to yourself, proud of your small win.

✰ ✰ ✰

A/N: Thank you for reading it all!!! I hope you enjoyed it; I wrote a 1k outline for this fic and I wasn’t expecting it to get this long but I’m not mad about it :)) Hopefully you aren’t either! I have a part two planned for this, I’ll probably only write it if people ask for it just cause this one took me a few days to write heheh. As always, requests are open, but don’t hesitate to reach out if you have questions about me, my blog, or specific fics, I love interacting with everyone and answering questions <33 I LITERALLY LOVE YOU ALL

˗ˏˋPart twoˎˊ˗