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vbluesss · 2 days ago

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I gotta admit, I'm really surprised by how the dynamic between Rick and Morty has evolved throughout the show.

At first it was a super one-sided relationship, where Rick was the genius, totally in control, dragging his grandson into messed up situations without caring much about what happened to him (except for those rare moments when he actually did care), Morty on the other hand, was the "dumb" sidekick who didn't know anything an was constantly humiliated, not just in adventures but in his everyday life (I’ll never forget that memory where Rick pushes him down the stairs just to embarrass him in front of some girls).

What's interesting is that since then Morty started develop this deep resentment toward Rick, and unlike his mother and sister, he did not idealize him, he saw Rick for who he really is.

“I wanted you to have a normal life, that’s something you can’t have when Rick shows up.

Everything real turns fake. Everything right is wrong.

All you know is that you know nothing and he knows everything.

He’s not a villain, Summer, but he shouldn’t be your hero. He’s more like a demon, or a super fucked up god.”

Whe the purge episode came out, I thought that if things kept going this way, Morty might actually end up killing Rick someday. Not in the sense that he would become Evil Morty, it's just... He was clearly full of repressed rage.

"Fuck you Rick! I'll purge you too, you old rickety piece of crap. This has been a long time coming! I'm gonna rip your fucking guts out and smear them all over you face!"

Then the third season premiered and in the very first episode, Morty shot Rick with the intention of killing him! Scenes like these made me so invested in their dynamic, but especially in Morty's development. Sooo here's a little analysis about it!

In early seasons, Morty hated Rick. He totally wanted to kill him at some point, but ofc he wouldn't because:

He was kinda ashamed of this violent part of himself.

Rick is his granda, and if only because of the family bond, he still cares about him.

We're talkin' about Rick Sanchez, motherfucker, like Morty ever stood a chance (or at least that what Morty thought, since we now know that it is not impossible.)

Anyway, the point is Morty was seriously done with Rick's crap, but it's not like he had much choice. They're family, and on top of that, Morty did enjoy the adventures. So he just tolerated it.

Thing's went on like that for a while, Morty started standing up to Rick more and more, and often paid the price of Rick's ego (The Vat Of Acid is the best example) but they always had a strong bond, bla bla bla.

But let's not to forget how Rick constantly manipulated him. I still remember this lines:

"I just took over the family Morty- and if you tell your mom or your sister any of this I'll deny it, and they'll take my side because I'm a hero"

"You can die when I say so. I control you. I control the universe!"

Just adding to the whole "Rick is a god" thing. Morty is perfectly aware, better than anyone else in the family, that Rick is a bad person and had a lot of power over everyone. Up to this point he even handled abandonment quite well, Beth and Summer were the ones who seemed more affected by it.

Still, Morty admires Rick. He needs him. He wants to be around him. As Rick had his moments of real care and and saved Morty, not just for convenience, but genuine affection. Also they got along pretty well.

In "Rest and Ricklaxation" it's even said outright that Rick has an irrational attachment to Morty, and I'd say that Morty also has an irrational attachment to Rick! Because again, he knows who Rick really is. But after so many adventures and those tiny moments of kindness, he can't help but cling to him.

Over time, Morty got more of his own voice, going from being a simple sidekick to being a companion (but not totally equal), and for his part, Rick started to respect his grandson more too (even if the power dynamic hadn't totally shifted)

Then their relationship becomes straight-up codependent.

Let's not forget the crows! That episode wrecked Morty emotionally, and man, I get it! The whole thing about being replaced was nothing more than an empty threat, the crows a way to annoy him. Until it happened. Rick replaces him and dumps him. Then when Rick comes back it's not even for Morty, it's because the crows dumped him first. But Morty still chooses him. Why? because he has no one and nothing else.

Even when Morty has the chance to start a new life far away from Rick, he choose to stay. The truth is that chaos and adventures with Rick is all he's ever known. How do you walk away from the one thing you've built your identity around?

Then S6E2, "Rick: A Mort Well Lived" happens. Morty's most independent, self-aware part gets trapped in a video game... I always feel that like a loss, but I guess it was necessary in some kind of way????? Idk... Anyways, I really liked the direction they took with Morty's codependency and fear of abandonment. After Marta (Morty's fragment) choose to stay in the game, I feek like Morty become more dependent on Rick.

But it's not just Morty who changes, it's also Rick.

Before the crows leave him, he ends up learning a bit about empathy (I think that's what it was) and recognizes that what he and Morty have is toxic, blablabla. I won't expand on this because the analysis is focused on Morty, not Rick, but I want to emphasize the sentence he says in S6E10, "Ricktional Mortpoon's Rickmas Mortcation"

"You called me boring! I've become dog shit to you"

Rick realizes he's lost control over Morty, and acts like the victim because he feels like one. Their bond is more damaged than ever because there is no balance between them. Things were tense since before the crows, add to that the revelation that Morty is not Rick's original grandson, and the Prime oobsession. Things keep spiraling... Still, by the end of the episode Rick brings Morty into the Prime hunt.

Now that I've already mentioned Prime we can go back to Morty, because after they finally found him and Rick got his unsatisfactory revenge, Morty was left marked by Evil Morty words:

"What happens if Rick actually kills this guy? You ever think about that? Maybe he'll kill himself next."

Next episode we see that Rick stopped having adventures for a while to start drinking too much, clearly depressed after the events of the previous episode. Again, this shakes up his bond with Morty.

Past all this, we finally get to one of the best episodes! The first one that really focuses on Morty's psychology: S7E10, Fear no Mort.

(SIDE NOTE: Before that! Something super important happens earlier: His breakup with Planetina (S5E3). Remember what he said to Beth?

"My whole life I've never fit in anywhere. Everything I have to say is always met with an eye roll, as if the act of hearing what I have to say is some exhausting chore. Nobody in this family thinks I can say or do anything right. I've been all over the universe, meet hundreds of people, and Planetina's the only one I've ever meet that makes me feel like I belong."

In Morty's words (and as we have seen throughout the series) there's no one, not even his own family, who doesn't treat Morty like he's an idiot. Everyone just seems tired of dealing with him. Morty always noticed it, cause he's not dumb like people thinks he is. It's not until he feels he's finally formed a real, honest, loving and (in his eyes) healthy connection that he confronts, in this case, his mom for trying to break them up.

The part “Planetina's the only one I've ever met that makes me feel like I belong” reflects more than just teenage love. It's coming from someone who has been ignored, treated as annoying and irrelevant by his classmates, teachers, his family, and also, of course, Rick too.

Honestly, I think that after the breakup, Morty became even more emotionally vulnerable. Like, it made him cling to Rick even more because, as awful as Rick can be, he's still the only one who actually spends time with Morty, that listens to him (even if it's while complaining), and shown Morty that he matters to someone, even if it's just so Rick can use him.

When Morty breaks up with Planetina because she killed innocent people, his idealized, perfect vision of his girlfriend finally shatters. The problem isn't that Planetina killed people (Rick has already done that, even Morty killed before), the real issue is that there is no way to sustain this unrealistic vision Morty had for her anymore. She was supposed to be his safe space, something outside the caos. But after that, there's no way he can keep pretending she's who he thought she was.

This leaves a mark. And in the end, Morty goes to adventures with Rick as usual.

At this point, after so many adventures and failed relationships, Morty has internalized so much Rick's worldview. Since the pilot, Rick's been planting the idea that it should be just the two of them, going on adventures together forever and ever. Rick and Morty at 100 years, an emotional trap disguised as a fun promise of adventures from which Morty cannot escape, not only because circumstances have molded him to adapt Rick's vision of the world, love, his own worth and morality, but also because a big part of his identity revolves around Rick).

With all that said, we can finally talk about Fear No Mort!

First off, when they "come out" of the hole, Morty notices Rick staring into it looking genuinely sad, so he admits he's afraid of being responsible for his sadness.

"Hey Rick, you just looked real sad, which I’m afraid of. You know, of being responsible for your sadness.”

Then, once they're back to, Morty imagines basically an entire life with Rick by his side. At this point Morty can no longer project himself, even in his imagination, without him! And then it hits him: Rick was never really there in the first place. That's when Morty finally figures out what he's truly afraid of:

"I know what I'm afraid of! I'm afraid that you'd never say that [that he is irreplaceable] in real life. I'm afraid that if I jumped into a hole, you wouldn't even bother jumping in after me. You'd just stand there and watch. This entire thing has been about me! You're not even in the hole, are you?!"

THIS MOMENT. THIS IS THE EXACT MOMENT WHERE IT BECOMES CLEAR THAT MORTY IS EMOTIONALLY DEPENDENT ON RICK. His fear of rejection doesn't compare to his fear of meaning nothing to Rick, and the fact that his entire life now revolves around him.

The fear of relying on Rick.

So! Morty's no longer the same scared kid of early seasons who got dragged into adventures against his will, and slowly started resenting his grandpa to such extent that (in some moments) he thought about killing him. Not because he truly wanted to, deep down, but because the anger and frustration took over.

Now after everything that has been though (being replaced, literally losing the most rebellious part of himself, and suffering from a broken heart) Morty's now fully Rick Sanchez's grandson. Someone who enjoys adventures, no longer hesitate to kill people (his whole moral compass is another topic on its own), and who is totally unable to let go of his grandpa because is all he has, but also the only thing he wants too, since there's nothing better out there or on earth waiting for him.

Morty isn't trying to escape Rick anymore, he just wants to be loved by him.

The issue is that Morty reached a point where he needs Rick to feel like somebody. Right now he's emotionally dependent on Rick in an extreme way. It wasn't always like this, Morty used to care about him (or at least respect him), but he also kinda hated him. Thanks to all his arc and now that Rick's been slowly changing in recents seasons, Morty can live with this, even with his doubts and with the conscious fear that Rick doesn't love him or might leave him again, he's so hurt at this point that he'll take whatever Rick gives.

So yeah, we've gone from a Morty who was aware Rick was hurting him and still called him out, to one's who's fully resigned to this life.

(I bring back the scene where he had the opportunity to leave his life with Rick behind when Evil Morty offered him a way out of the Central Finite Curve. Rick admits that's the best option cause he has no plan, and we see the exact moment when Morty resigns and decides to stay with Rick, DESPITE what happened with the crows).

And you know why? Because Rick is changing too. Slowly, painfully, but it's happening. And Morty doesn't love Rick because he's good.

He loves him because that's the most he can expect from love.

To conclude:

Before, Morty had normal concerns. He wanted to go to school, be with Jessica (I miss her), and form a life like any other teeanger. Rick was something he tolerated because he was his grandpa, but clearly not the center of his life.

Now, that changed completely. He doesn't really have those desires anymore, now, what he wants is to go on adventure. He wants to keep exploring the universe with Rick, because its the only he has left and also, it's become the only thing he's truly passionate about. I'm not saying that he cannot fall in love again and be a regular teenager someday, but his priorities have shifted.

He genuinely enjoys those adventures, but specially enjoys being with Rick. He respects him, admires him, challenges him, understands him... and even with all the pain, he wants to stay by his side. For a 100 years.

Wow! this got way out of hand. It all started when I was like "Man, I miss when Morty used to stood up to Rick". Then the new episode dropped, and hey, turns out current Morty is confronting Rick again! I know they had arguments before, but that was mostly because their bond was super tense, almost broken. And in those fights, Rick always played the victim and Morty ended up feeling bad, like he was the one in the wrong. But now, in the first episode we get a clearly parallel between Morty and Evil Morty (that's a different topic I could go on about- I'll just say I think it perfectly shows why Morty would never become Evil Morty: because he loves Rick). And in the most recent one, beat the crap out of Rick for being an asshole, totally deserved.

Their behavior in this episode really made me think, it’s like Rick and Morty’s personalities are kinda... swapping places. Morty’s turning more into Rick (stronger, more assertive) and Rick’s becoming a bit more like Morty (more human, more vulnerable) But neither of them has stopped being who they are at the core.

Also, I gotta say, I love how their relationship is way more balanced now! Rick actually treats Morty with a bit more respect, and Morty’s pretty much on the same level as Rick when they go on adventures. They finally see each other as equals and treat each other like actual family (a super dysfunctional one, sure, but one that’s trying to get better). Honestly, it’s been a really nice shift. And that’s what surprises me the most.

I’ve been a fan since the beginning, and I NEVER thought they’d canonically turn their relationship into something this wholesome, because this show’s always been about tearing down traditional stuff: love, good vs evil, heroes, family, all that. But now? They’re actually giving us this slow redemption arc. Not just for Rick and Morty, but for the whole Smith family, piecing themselves back together from all the damage. Ooobviously Rick and Morty’s relationship isn’t perfect, but compared to how it all started? It’s honestly too wholesome sometimes. I used to think it’d stay toxic and abusive forever!

I just really hope that with Rick changing now, they don’t forget about Morty’s growth. Just because Rick’s evolving doesn’t mean Morty’s wounds magically disappeared. He faced his fears down in the hole, but that doesn’t mean he’s over them, he’s just living with the trauma now. (Even the line at the end of the new episode makes it super clear Morty’s still scared, or so I think.) But I'm sure they won't ignore it. We’re still seeing Rick fall into that self-pity mode, and Morty is aware of it.

I’m genuinely excited to see where they take things from here!!!

Anyway, there’s so much more I could’ve talked about, but it was 3 a.m., I was half-asleep and my body hurt all over, plus there are already tons of deep dives out there about their dynamic. What I wanted to do here was just focus on Morty’s evolution. That’s my little contribution! [:

#not a ship btw #dni proship #english isnt my first language #be nice to me #rick and morty #rick and morty season 8 #rick and morty analysis #rick sanchez #morty smith #analysis #first analysis!! yeiii #feel free to correct me #most of this is from memory #didnt rewatch all the episodes for this

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slytherinshua · 2 days ago

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ıllı　ZB1 AS F1 DRIVERS　( 제로베이스원 )

includes . . . kim jiwoong, zhang hao, kim taerae, shen quanrui (ricky), and park gunwook.

genre headcanons , non-romantic (no use of yn/reader) , f1!au cw not proofread wc 1081 (roughly 200-300 per member) request yes note was excited to write this hehe!! only included 5 members as my brain kinda gave up, but really focused on including the members i haven't written a lot for yet <3 if you like these headcanons, you might be interested in my nct wish as f2 drivers as well! net @kstrucknet

KIM JIWOONG ﾐ 김지웅

i feel like he’d have a really good career in his early days

like a few years after his rookie season

starting out in one of the midfield teams and then getting promoted to a seat in either mercedes or mclaren

and say he has one or two world championships under his belt, both tight competitions with other racers in their prime

but now he’s later on in his career, and he’s stuck in a slump after 5 or so years of top racing

back to a not-so-great lower team, like sauber or haas, maybe aston martin if he’s lucky

he’s just giving me major nico hulkenburg (if he wasn’t allergic to podiums) or fernando alonso career vibes and not just cause he’s the oldest member of zb1

i feel like he’s a well respected driver, just not a prioritized one

and it’s not like he’s anywhere near retiring

more like the grid is just so full of young rookie talent, that teams are too distracted by that

and it’s true he isn’t in his prime anymore, and not getting the results he used to

but he can definitely still score points, and there are some aspects to his driving style that haven’t changed one bit

like his reaction speeds are still quick as hell, and the team can always count on him to overtake a lot of cars right in the first lap of the race

he just has more trouble impressing during races, and his own motivation for winning has decreased as well

ZHANG HAO ﾐ章昊

sassy little williams boy

but williams on the rise, williams in their peak

williams who score points

even williams on the podium

and boy does hao get cocky whenever he scores those precious points

good weekends bleed into the next, and he often gets little streaks of amazing races

one of the fastest in free practice, in the top 5 for qualifying, on the podium for the race

and i feel like he would do amazing in sprint races, just to score a bit low during the actual race

one of his problems is that once the car starts to give him issues, he gets frustrated easily

and once he’s frustrated on track, he starts to take more risks to try to save his race

which ends up leading to more chances of mistakes

he wouldn’t get into super big crashes

he is an experienced enough driver to control the car, at least

but he might swerve a bit, become a victim to understeer a lot in corners, and overall be battling his own car for most of the race

with so much focus on that, he can’t really do what he does best

which is offensive overtaking and battling for higher positions

KIM TAERAE ﾐ 김태래

i’m putting him in mclaren, he gives me those papaya vibes

a pretty consistent driver all things considered

when the car is really good for the season, he turns into a beast

constantly getting poles and race wins, seemingly without struggling either

great team synergy, great car, great racing

he’s honestly really talented, and it’s especially noticeable on the more physically taxing circuits

like jeddah, singapore, or qatar

rare that he makes rookie mistakes, even when he’s a new driver

he might have some rough free practice sessions, but he learns quickly and applies it where it’s really needed

works the best under pressure, which is why he always gets excited when there’s a tough rivalry during a season

on the flipside, when he’s not being pushed, or he feels like he doesn’t have anything to work towards, he gets bored

of course winning races is satisfying, but he craves that fight to get on the podium

he doesn’t like when it’s basically given to him from the get-go

he’d definitely have great teamwork with his teammate

and for sure is a fan favourite driver pairing as well

like he’s definitely getting shipped with different drivers to high heaven

and to be honest, he’s so totally here for that

like he’d go out of his way to make moments he knows fans will be clipping for days

SHEN QUANRUI ﾐ沈泉锐

little ferrari or alpine boy

he is destined for some team that will mistreat him, i fear

no stability and constantly having beef with the strategists, team principal, or even his teammate

it’s rough out here

nonetheless, he’s a talented driver and team problems aren’t gonna stop him from performing his best on track

if the car’s a tractor, there’s not much he can do, but he’s great at defending

honestly a mind reader on track

it’s like he can predict every single move the other drivers will make

he’s out here playing 4d chess

he’s very friendly with interviewers and honestly just a super fun and flirty personality

even though all the fans know how much he puts up with for the team

multiple times his race wins have been sabotaged by team orders

questionable pit strategies, undercuts for cars that weren’t a threat in the first place

a big part of ricky’s problems stem from communication with the team, and an inability to gel well with his strategists and mechanics

if he gets a spot in a different team that is smarter than ferrari (cough), he would win championships for sure

PARK GUNWOOK ﾐ 박건욱

i place him as an aston martin or haas driver

he’s either in a midfield team or one that has the potential to get on the podium but probably not every race

his qualifyings are hit or miss, and he really struggles in the race

but he’s great at tyre management and really feels the car

gets the nickname tyre whisperer for sure, possibly even in his first season when he’s still a rookie

crashes the car a lot in rainy races, and understeer is a real pain for him when it hits

when he really has a great car that season, it’s possible for him to score points in a rainy race

but most of the time he’s honestly thanking god whenever a safety car gets pulled out during a wet race

tries not to get too frustrated when he DNF’s but i honestly get the impression that he could get quite heated during a race

needs a few minutes to cool down before he answers any press about a crash or mistakes made during the race

and probably is still fuming for hours after

ultimately his mindset is to do better for the next one, though

always pushing

zerobaseone taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @okshu,, @chewryy,, @haecien,, @sobun1est,, @emmylksblog,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @sxmmerberries,, @cupidslovearrows,, @dimplewonie,, @50-husbands,, @yudaies,, @mjupis,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @nicholasluvbot,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @dohynjae,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @i03jae,, @somerandomf1fan,, @tmrwsuns,, @hanwoolvhs,, @yujiswave

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cubbyyyy · 1 year ago

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the fact that neil chose andrew out of them all is so dear to me. that andrew chose neil out of them all is so dear to me. that they chose each other is so dear to me. and at the same time it seems inevitable? like of course they chose each other, like of course no one else would be possible. they are what the other needs and that’s why they last. they are so compatible it’s scary.

and the fact that nora said if andrew didn’t have neil he never would’ve gotten happiness proves my point. I know some want to have the whole “you don’t need anyone to be happy” kind of mindset but in my book you’ll always gonna need people. It’s inevitable. and not finding the one who gets you, can make you miserable. It’s hard to find, but it’s so so sweet when you do and I’m so glad andrew got blessed with it. He got the one. and through hard work (therapy etc) he made him last. neil never became the one who got away because andrew worked hard enough to not self sabotage anymore. he learned to recognize neil as a good thing, an important thing and eventually he learns that neil feels the same and will never be the one to hurt him. he won’t be like tilda. so they make it last. and that’s everything.

#loving neil will never make him want to die #loving neil is what makes andrew want to live #andrew almost killed himself wanting to hold onto tilda #but neil is different #loving neil is what makes andrew want to move forward #the more he loves neil the more he lives #and that’s on loving the right people #bc neil will always push andrew to become better #and the other way around #they are what the other needs and without the other they can’t become the best version of themselves and that’s okay #that’s what ppl can do to you #it’s amazing #I love them #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #nora sakavic

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shiftthemoon · 6 months ago

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reality shifting isn’t hard. you’ve been told it’s hard because everyone’s too scared to admit it’s not. they cling to their 800-step methods, their must-have crystals, their perfect conditions because they think that if they let go of that control, they’ll fail. but here’s the thing: the more you try to control the process, the more you convince yourself it’s out of your control. and that’s the problem. that’s why so many people feel stuck. shifting isn’t some big, far-fetched thing. it’s just you. it’s always been you.

we’re conditioned to think we’re powerless. think about it—school, work, society, all of it drills this idea into us that everything has to be proven, earned, validated. so, when you hear about shifting, your brain freaks out and says, wait, wait, this is too easy, this can’t be real. and then you spiral. you overcomplicate it. you make yourself think you need the “perfect” script, the “right” subliminal, or that you have to meditate for three hours while the stars align perfectly. like, no… you don’t. all of that? it’s fluff. it’s noise.

at its core, shifting is belief. just belief. no, really, let that sink in. you don’t need to “do” belief perfectly. it’s not something you master through sheer willpower. it’s something you already have. you’ve believed in things your whole life. you believed in gravity without needing proof. you believe your favorite songs are beautiful without needing to explain why. belief is natural. it’s effortless when you stop overthinking it. that’s the energy you need to bring to shifting—trust. trust that your mind knows what it’s doing, and that if you let it, it will take you there. every single extra thing you pile on? the overthinking, the doubt, the need for guarantees? that’s what’s slowing you down. not the “lack of progress,” not some mythical “block”—it’s you convincing yourself it’s harder than it is.

and let’s talk about social media for a second. oh my god, the shifting community on social media… i get it. it’s comforting to see other people on this journey. but let’s be honest—how much of that content is actually helping you? like, really? 90% of the time, scrolling through shifting advice isn’t inspiring; it’s overwhelming. everyone’s got their own opinions, their own “best methods,” their own rules. one person says scripting is a must, another says it’s a waste of time. one person swears by affirmations, another says visualization is the only way. and before you know it, you’re sitting there questioning everything you thought you knew, wondering if you’ll ever get it “right.” spoiler alert: you already know how to shift. you don’t need a thousand voices telling you what to do. in fact, the more you listen to them, the harder it becomes to hear yourself.

take a break. seriously. log off the apps. give yourself space to breathe and think. ask yourself: why do i want to shift? what’s stopping me? what feels right to me? no tiktok trend, youtube guide, or reddit post can answer those questions for you. only you can. and i know that sounds scary. we’ve been conditioned to think we need external validation for everything, but shifting is a deeply personal thing. you don’t need a step-by-step tutorial. you need to trust your instincts. that’s it.

and let me be clear: i’m not saying methods or subliminals are bad. they’re fine if they help you feel aligned. but they’re not what makes shifting happen. you are. methods are just tools. if you use them, great. if you don’t, that’s great too. because the truth is, shifting isn’t about doing things “right.” it’s about letting go of the idea that you need to.

so let me break it down for you. the only things you really need to shift are:

1. a desire. you have to want to go to your desired reality. no brainer, right?

2. belief. this is the big one. you have to trust it’s possible. no “what ifs,” no “but hows.” just trust.

3. persistence. if it doesn’t happen right away, that’s okay. don’t give up. if you’ve ever learned to ride a bike, you know that falling doesn’t mean you can’t do it—it just means you’re learning. shifting is the same.

that’s it. no fancy rituals, no endless research, no “perfect” conditions. the process is simple because it’s natural. you’ve probably done it before without even realizing it— the only reason it feels hard now is because you’ve convinced yourself it has to be.

stop making it harder than it needs to be. shifting isn’t this unattainable, mystical thing reserved for “chosen ones.” it’s something anyone can do. you can do it. your mom can do it. that anti-shifter lurking in every crevice of shiftblr could do it. you’ve always been capable. but you have to stop getting in your own way. stop doubting yourself. stop relying on others to tell you what’s possible. this is your journey. own it.

and above all, be patient. shifting is not a race. it’s not about how fast you can get there or how perfect your dr is. it’s about trust, intention, and focus. log off, tune into yourself, and let it happen. shifting has always been yours to claim. it’s not something you need permission for. it’s not something you need to earn. it’s just you, your mind, and your belief. always has been, always will be.

#shifting #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting community #loassumption #shifting tips #shifting antis dni #shifting script #law of assumption #reality shifting tips #quantum jumping #shifttok

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readwritealldayallnight · 26 days ago

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“You having fun there, Si?”

“‘Course.”

“‘Cause you look like you’re having a lot of fun right now.”

“I’m here aren’t I?” He snaps at you without thinking, immediately catching himself with a shake of the head when he spots your raised brow. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know I’m pushing you out of your comfort zone. But Simon we’re safe here, I promise you.” You attempt to reassure him, still intent on making the most out of this trip together

One year

365 days

An entire trip around the sun since the day you and Simon met for the first time

And not a day has gone by since without each of you holding the other’s heart in the palm of your hands

Though Simon would do quite literally anything for you, he’d been less than impressed when you’d dropped the boarding passes in his hand last night

You’d been reminiscing to him about the holidays you used to take each summer with your family while growing up, memories of building sand castles and burying siblings until only their heads were visible, visions of waves lapping at your toes and seashells in your hands, images of melting ice creams cones and chasing pesky seagulls until the sun set

Memories that Simon could not relate to, could only smile and nod along as you told him about missing a time when you could be so care free

“Wonder what tha’ was like.” He’d said offhandedly to you that night as you both stood at the kitchen sink, his large hands passing off the clean dishes for you to dry

The idea of Simon having never enjoyed a family holiday when he was young made your heart ache, but thinking about Simon never having had a holiday, never having had a chance to slow down and relax, to enjoy himself for once in his life, well that left a foul taste in your mouth that you were determined to change

You’d had to pull some strings, even go so far as sneaking behind his back to arrange the time off with his Captain, who’d agreed wholeheartedly with you that his Lieutenant was in need of a holiday but who’d laughed when he bid you good luck in telling Simon as much

The suitcases were secretly packed while he worked, the plane tickets purchased as he slept, the secluded beach house with private access to the water booked while he was busy with making dinner one evening, your plan coming to fruition while your lover was none the wiser

As excited as you were, his reaction had been just about what you’d expected

Grumbling about how it was unnecessary, too risky, too dangerous, he’d wanted to reject the idea entirely from the get go, to flat out say no, though deep down he knew he could never truly tell you no

That was how Simon found himself on a beautiful, private beach, miles away from any military base, without another soul in sight apart from the one linked to his own, all while he tried his best to continue sulking in the sun

“Can’t know tha’ for sure, love.”

“Simon, this place had the best rating I could find, promises to be totally private. It isn’t peak tourist season, we’re far out from the city. Plus we literally used fake names on everything, I think we’re going to be fine.” You tried to rationalize, though knowing his past and how preoccupied his mind could become, you knew you were essentially speaking to a brick wall at the moment

“Anythin’ could happen, can’t account for everythin’.” He argued, adjusting the sunglasses over his eyes as he scanned the surroundings yet again, not enjoying how exposed he felt out here clad in nothing more than the swim shorts and sunscreen you’d packed for him

“You’re right, anything could happen.” You agreed with a shrug, dropping the last of the beach gear onto the sand, reaching for the bottom of your sundress. “But I can tell you what’s going to happen right now. I’m going to go swim in the water, because I want to, and because I can. You can join me, or you can sit here and mope, but I have a feeling you’ll change your mind. And because it’s our anniversary and because I love you, I won’t even say I told you so.”

He’s just about to tell you that that’s far from likely, that he’s certain he’ll be staying under the shade of the umbrella he’s about to stick in the sand, that he’ll be the smart one here and keep look out for the danger he’s decided is certain to happen, when you stop any logical thought of his in its tracks, as you lift up your arms and peel off your dress, revealing the bathing suit you’re wearing underneath

He’s seen you naked before hundreds if not thousands of time at this point, seen your body form every angle imaginable and more, had you in every way he could ever dream of

So why is the sight of your swaying hips walking away from him the most enticing thing he thinks he’s ever seen? The view of your ass in the skin tight material of your bathing suit the first thing to really give him pause?

No, he’s not going to let himself fall for that, he’s not going to cave so easily, not when you’re both in a new place like this, so exposed-

All the fight is nearly drained out of him, when he sees your arms reach up behind your back, your head angling enough to meet his eyes just as your steady fingers untie the strings that hold your top in place, letting the material fall to your feet as you continue making your way towards the shore, a quick wink sent his way before you’re turning your focus to the waves

He gulps loudly, not that he can hear it over the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his damaged ears

He tells himself he’s not going to fall for this, though his grip on the cooler full of drinks is rapidly slipping

Tells himself he’s only just going to pick up your bathing suit top off the ground for you, when his legs decide for themselves to start following you in your wake

He tells himself that he can keep his cool, surely you’ll be quick, that when you emerge from the water, wet droplets rolling off your naked, sun kissed skin, that he can satisfy himself by offering to reapply your sunblock, that the image he’s just conjured up of getting his hands on you soon will be enough to tide him over

But then, of course, you go ahead and slide your hands down the side of your waist, reaching lower until your fingers slipped under the fabric of your bottoms, pushing further and further down until the material is pooled around your ankles, leaving them behind for your ghost to pick up

Fuckin’ hell, he really had said anything could happen, hadn’t he?

Simon’s following you into the water before he fully realizes he’s stepped in, knowing that he’d follow you anywhere at the end of the day

One year down with you

A lifetime to go

#just a drabble #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #call of duty #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #ghost fanfic #call of duty ghost #ghost cod #cod simon riley #readwritealldayallnight #drabble

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healmydesires · 9 months ago

Text

cross that line ꕤ (l.h)

part two

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: For a long time, you were content hiding your feelings, but lately, the longing for someone you can’t have has become unbearable. Despite knowing he could never be yours, you still cherished the sweet ache in your heart whenever he smiled or gave you a warm, platonic hug. Then, one day, everything changed.

genre: fluff + angst + smut (18+ mdni)

word count: 14k (14k on the dot to be precise but yeah uhm. sorry. I swear I'm normal)

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, thunderstorms, idiots in love, mutual pining, assumed unrequited love, jealous!reader, reader is described as shorter than logan, emotional!reader, miscommunication kinda, inexperienced/virgin!reader, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom logan, ok… just in overall bye, logan is soft for reader, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, oral fixation. some daddy kink? breeding kink aaaaa sorry. I wrote this while ovulating. they’re both FREAKS. scent kink? lots of pet names. this is high key sweet and turns filthy. logan is worshipping his sweet girl ok! reader is a mutant. reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry!

a/n: GUESS WHAT!!! user healmydesires is back with another self indulgent fic about a new blorbo! I’ve been having all random kinds of scenarios about logan in my head and I just didn’t know which type of story to go with. until I felt like there weren’t much of inexperienced/virgin reader fics for logan and tbh… that’s kinda my brand (I’m high key kidding but lowkey that’s what I love to write the most) if you’ve read my works so. I thought I’ll write what I WANT to read. so this is high key self indulgent. english isn’t my first language so pls bear with me <3 also ngl.. a lot of it is just smut 😭 I literally wrote this while ovulating… EDIT (19/09): I kinda edited it a bit because it had a lot of grammar mistakes and I'd often jump from present tense to past tense so ye

this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

Being roommates with your best friend had its perks. You were together almost all the time, sharing both the big and small moments. As fellow teachers, you could easily swap teaching tips, lend each other a hand with tasks, or offer guidance when you were feeling stuck. Your tall best friend effortlessly reached the top shelves, and you both enjoyed laughter-filled moments during movie marathons. Sharing responsibilities became more fun too—splitting chores like cooking and laundry felt easy and natural. Plus, there was comfort in knowing your best friend was always dependable, ready to support you whenever you needed it. And whenever you were in need of a hug, your best friend was probably already ready to envelop you in his warm embrace.

But it also had its disadvantages.

Especially considering that Logan Howlett, your best friend, was quite the menace.

Logan had always had a rugged handsomeness that effortlessly made people swoon all around him. It wasn't fair how pretty he was. He had always been lucky with finding partners—or rather, when it came to finding bed or sexual partners. He'd often bring those one-night stands or partners to your shared apartment only to have sex with them. Logan had never been the type to stick with one person, always preferring flings over long-term relationships. Or so you thought.

You, on the other hand, had always craved a long-term relationship. You dreamed of finding your true love—someone to share adventures with, to have fun with, and to dive into deep, meaningful and random conversations. You loved the idea of being with someone who let you be your true self, where you could spend hours talking about the most random things—discussing your favourite TV shows one minute, and passionately criticising capitalism and the world the next. You were all about affection, from kissing to being held, but you also longed to hold your partner close and make them feel cherished, just as much as you wanted to feel loved in return.

Unfortunately, you had never had the chance to experience anything like that.

It wasn't like you had never had the chance or had the opportunity to explore and possibly experience a potential relationship. You had just never been really interested in creating a relationship with a stranger.

Plus the thing was, your best friend wasn't just your best friend. You had been in love with Logan for god knows how long.

Charles Xavier was the one who had introduced you both, years ago. You remembered that day very vividly.

You had just arrived at the Xavier Institute, and the professor had offered you a two-sided job, to be a teacher at the school and be part of the X-Men.

You'd always done your best to keep your powers hidden, but being welcomed into a school designed for people like you—a mutant—felt incredibly liberating. That's why you hadn't hesitated when Charles Xavier invited you to his school. You'd always known you were powerful, with the ability to control and manipulate water, but you had kept your abilities a secret, not wanting to be treated any differently in a world that didn't really like or understand people like you.

As the professor took you around the grounds, you couldn't help but be impressed by how big and beautiful it all was.

You were so captivated by the mansion's grandeur and stunning architecture that you didn't even notice a guy casually leaning against the nearest wall outside of Charles's office. But the moment your eyes met his, it felt as if time itself stood still. Looking into Logan's eyes, you felt like you could drown in them. You had never seen anyone so effortlessly handsome.

Completely entranced by him, you almost forgot to introduce yourself. Your body heated up in the moment, and the professor definitely noticed. Logan Howlett gave you a knowing smirk, making the warmth inside you intensify even more.

That day you both became friends, though you still didn't quite understand why, given how different you both were. Logan was gruff and blunt, while you, though capable of being direct, tended to choose your words more carefully. He was passionate and strong-willed and opinionated, and sometimes he let that get the best of him. You were deeply in tune with your emotions, while he always seemed to hold back, keeping certain feelings tightly guarded. Logan was never one to be very straightforward with his emotions. He would rather keep most of them to himself, and didn't want to seem too vulnerable. Communication was something you valued and needed a lot, but Logan, by contrast, didn't seem to rely on it as much. You were an overthinker, always caught up in your thoughts, and he would often step in to ease those worries of yours.

You could say that opposites attract.

Over time, your friendship grew, and one day he asked if you'd like to move in with him into a new apartment near the institute. He craved a bit more peace and genuinely enjoyed your company. It seemed like a good idea, so you thought, why not?

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with your roommate. All you knew was that one day, you were suddenly overcome by an emotion so intense, it was unlike anything you'd ever felt before. It hit you all at once. Before Logan, you'd never really had a serious crush, never experienced feelings this powerful for anyone. You often told yourself it must have started shortly after you moved in with him, but deep down, you knew that wasn't the truth. This feeling had been quietly growing from the very first moment you met him, slowly building until it became impossible to ignore.

It was funny, you thought, how life had a way of bringing you things—and people—you never realised you needed. People like Logan, who became so essential that you couldn't help but wonder how you had ever lived without them. People like Logan Howlett, who somehow managed to be both your saving grace and your greatest temptation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A few months into your roommate arrangement, you still couldn't get used to Logan constantly bringing one-night stands to your shared apartment. It was pure torment.

As you ate cereal at the kitchen island, one of Logan's many one-night stands quietly slipped out of the apartment. You rolled your eyes, as Logan routinely walked them through the apartment to the door, their faces often adorned with sly smiles as they fluttered their eyelashes at him. A knot of anger twisted in your belly as you watched them play with the collar of his shirt, their fingers lingering while he made no move to pull away. You'd never felt such intense rage before. He responded with a grunt as they would casually give him a goodbye kiss.

You hated experiencing feelings like these. It was a gross emotion, a heavy sensation that felt thick and tar-like, clinging to your chest and making you ache with its heavy weight.

Anxiety? Sure, you were often more anxious than most mutants, but that wasn't the feeling you had at this moment. Maybe it was jealousy? You disliked how that emotion fit so easily on your tongue, leaving a bitter taste.

Each time you witnessed these scenes unfold, jealousy and frustration would wash over you. Or how you'd feel utterly awful whenever you accidentally overheard them having sex.

As Logan reentered the apartment and closed the door behind him, you couldn't help but snort. “So, what number are we up to now?”

He stared at you for a moment, before chuckling and shaking his head with a smirk. “Not sure, lost count.” He shrugged, grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen island, and took a bite.

“What was their name?” you asked, staring daggers at your bowl of cereal.

Logan shrugged again. “I don't know, and honestly, I don't care,” he replied curtly before walking away.

You couldn't understand how he could be so nonchalant about this situation.

It wasn't just jealousy; you longed for any kind of affection or love from Logan, more than you ever thought possible. You were grateful to be his best friend and you knew it might seem foolish to hope for a chance with him, but you couldn't help yourself. Deep down, you feared you'd always feel this lonely, believing you could never fall for anyone but him. He was everything you craved and needed in life.

You felt foolish, constantly embarrassed and rejected. More than anything, you felt hurt, knowing that you were the only one to blame. It was your own feelings that had caused all this pain.

The thought of him one day falling in love with someone else made your stomach sink, but you pushed and suppressed your sadness aside daily. It didn't really matter—Logan was free to date whoever he wanted. He was your best friend, only his best friend.

One day, you'd have to come to terms with the fact that he would always be just your best friend.

You just hoped that one day it would become easier to deal with these feelings.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It was the middle of a cold winter night — the air cool against your skin, even with your large pink puffer jacket to keep you warm. The thick curtain of night enveloped the sky, painting it a deep midnight blue, with stars twinkling like the clearest diamonds. Despite the cool ambient air, you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders gradually easing.

“You see that there?” you pointed up at the starlit sky, leaning unconsciously into Logan's warmth as you both lay on the grass of the X-mansion grounds. “That's the Pleiades. People often mistake it for the Little Dipper, but it's just a star cluster.”

Logan hummed, but his eyes were focused on you, how you gazed up at the stars with an awestruck expression. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, as he enjoyed how you looked so endearing as you were so engrossed in the stars that you loved so dearly.

He glanced up at the part of the sky you were pointing to, located the cluster of stars you had mentioned. He studied it for a moment and thought he had seen something similar to the Pleiades before, but never illuminated in the night sky like this. Logan's gaze then returned to the earth, settling back on the grass where he lay beside you.

“Beautiful,” Logan whispered as he stared at you. “Truly beautiful.”

You were too busy gazing up at the sky to realise that he wasn't talking about the sky.

For as long as you could remember, you had loved the night sky, finding its dark embrace profoundly comforting. More than that, you adored the stars—coming out at night to bask in their radiance, with their distant coldness soothing your soul.

You had always felt so mesmerised about the universe, especially the stars and the moon. They appeared beautiful, glittering magnificently beside one another as they hovered in the upper stratosphere.

“Why did you bring me out here, Lo?” you finally asked, looking up at your best friend. You noticed him smirk down at you and saw a fleeting hint of hesitant insecurity in his green eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

He shrugged against you, still grinning. “I know how much you enjoy stargazing, and I'm aware you've had a rough week, so I wanted to give you a chance to relax for a bit.”

You softened as you gazed up at him. Logan was right—you had been having a rough week. The children had been sweet, but the workload had been overwhelming. You couldn't help but appreciate how Logan was always looking out for you.

“Thank you…” you whispered.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He winked before he looked back up at the sky. “Why don't you show me another constellation?”

You giggled as you pointed out another cluster of stars, but more often than not, Logan found it hard to focus on the stars. After all, he had a bright light of his own by his side daily that captured all of his attention.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A year had passed since you moved in with Logan, and autumn was already around the corner. The temperature was gradually dropping, and the air became crisper. The trees' leaves were starting to fade from vibrant greens to tamer shades of bronze and gold. You had always loved this time of year—it was that perfect season where you could bundle up in layers when you were outside, then retreat indoors in the evenings, getting cosy with a hot chocolate and a good book.

It was during seasons like this that you found yourself wishing you could cuddle up with someone, enjoying a movie or simply each other's company. But it wasn't just anyone you wanted by your side—it had always been Logan for you.

For the longest time, you were content in just keeping all your feelings hidden. Lately, though, the longing had been getting harder to bear. Wanting someone you knew you couldn't have was starting to feel unbearable, slowly eating away at you. And even though you knew he could never be yours, it didn't stop you from savouring the sweet ache in your heart every time he smiled or when he pulled you into a warm, platonic hug.

All the stupid fluttery feelings in your stomach every time his eyes would catch yours, or the way your heart beat fast whenever you were in close proximity to him. You knew it had been years since you'd known Logan, but you couldn't help the effect he always had on you. The way he left you yearning for more. But, of course, you tried to bury those feelings down deep, reminding yourself that Logan could never feel the same way about you as you felt about him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

One lazy afternoon, with no classes scheduled for you to teach, you found yourself by the lake on the X-Mansion grounds, practising your water bending. The water flowed seamlessly around you as you moved your arms, bending it effortlessly to your will. As you went through each movement, you could feel a pair of eyes on you, observing every precise motion, your muscles tensing with each fluid shift. A light sheen of sweat formed on your brow, and your face held a fierce look of concentration as you focused on perfecting your stance and movements.

Several moments had passed, and the person watching you still hadn't spoken a word. By now, you were almost certain it wasn't just anyone—it had to be Logan. Anyone else would have said something by now, maybe greeted you or asked about your training. But not Logan. He had a way of lingering in silence, watching you in that quietly intense way of his, never feeling the need to fill the space with unnecessary words.

“Well, are you just going to stand there and stare, or do you plan on saying something?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Logan grunted, “I think I'll just keep watching. I quite like the view from here.”

A flush of warmth spread across your face, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach at his words. You hesitated for a moment, pausing your movements before he spoke again.

“Don't stop on my account, sweetheart.”

You knew he was wearing one of his signature grins, and you so desperately wanted to wipe it off his face. As you grew more flustered, a wave of frustration built up inside you—how could this man always have such an effect on you? An idea sparked in your mind, a mischievous smirk tugging at your lips. Deciding to continue your water bending practice while he watched, you let the water flow effortlessly around you, fully aware of his eyes tracking your every move.

Once a peaceful stillness settled in the air, you saw your opening. Without warning, you spun around with swift precision, bending the water toward him and drenching him in seconds.

Logan stood there, completely perplexed as you broke into a fit of giggles. He was drenched from head to toe, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he sprang into action. Sure enough, just seconds later, he smirked again, though this time it carried a sharper edge. “You think this is funny, bub?”

“Yeah, I kinda do,” you replied between laughs, unable to contain yourself.

But then, Logan's grin turned devious, and with a determined march, he began closing the distance between you. Your eyes widened in realisation, and without thinking, you bolted away.

“You're not getting away with this, princess,” he called out, his voice low as he gave chase.

He moved swiftly through the gardens, but you were quicker, slipping just out of sight every time he got close. His eyes darted around, scanning the area, frustration slowly turning into determination. You could hear him muttering under his breath, his footsteps getting louder as he searched for you. Your heart raced as you ducked behind a tree, trying to stifle your laughter. The thrill of the chase had adrenaline coursing through your veins.

For a moment, you thought you had lost him, but then he sniffed and just as you peeked around the tree, you saw him spot you from across the grove. His eyes gleamed with mischief as a smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “I got you,” he muttered before he moved towards you with renewed speed. You tried to slip away again, but it was too late—he had you cornered.

Soon enough, two strong arms caged you in, trapping you between the tree and his chest. A startled yelp escaped your lips as you tried to back away, only to realise there was nowhere to go. “Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the familiar playful glint in his eyes making your heart race even faster.

You squirmed, trying to find a way out, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you in place without being overbearing. “Logan! Let me go,” you protested, laughter bubbling up in your throat despite your attempt to sound serious.

“Thought you could get away that easily, huh?” he teased, leaning in so close that you could feel his wet clothes and the warmth of his body. The heat from his proximity spread across your own, making you acutely aware of how close you were. You bit your lip, your cheeks becoming hotter as his smirk widened. The sight of your flustered expression seemed to delight him, his satisfaction evident in his playful gaze.

“Well, this is cosy,” you remarked, but your voice barely rose above a whisper. There was a tremor in your tone, one that matched the rapid beat of your heart.

“Hm, I think so too,” he responded with the same teasing tone. You gazed up at him with bright eyes as the golden hour of evening cast a warm glow around you both. It took all his willpower not to look away, not to acknowledge the tension that hung thick in the air.

You shifted against the tree, searching for a different way to elicit a reaction from him. Your touch light, almost accidental, but it sent a shockwave through him, his breath hitching in his throat. You could feel him stiffen, sensing the tension as he reacted to your contact.

He leaned in, just enough that he could feel your breath against his skin, just enough that the space between you became almost non-existent, and just enough to hear your breath hitch.

Logan closed his eyes, as he pressed his forehead against your own. Every time he tried to speak, the words got tangled up in the mess of emotions swirling inside him. All he could think about was how close you were, how your touch burned through him, how the smell of you, that unique soft scent of yours, filled his senses and made him want to lose himself in you.

“Lo—”

Before you could finish, Ororo's voice rang out, calling your name. You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you as you realised your moment with Logan was interrupted. You had forgotten about the promise to cook together with her and Jean, and your friend's timing burst the bubble of what you thought might finally be a shared moment with him.

He grunted in frustration, pulling away from you and looking off to the side. Ororo, Jean, and even Scott soon found their way to you, their presence drawing closer. As they approached, each of them wore a grin that suggested they had noticed the tension between you and Logan. The air was thick with unspoken understanding, and it was clear that your friends had picked up on the charged moment that had just been interrupted.

You cleared your throat and stepped reluctantly away from Logan, trying to regain your composure. You forced a smile as you addressed your friends, saying, “Sorry to keep you guys waiting.” You then walked away with Jean and Ororo towards the mansion, though you couldn't help glancing back over your shoulder. Each time you looked, a hint of longing appeared on your face as you cast a final, wistful glance at Logan.

As you walked away, you heard Scott remark, “You look wet.”

Logan responded with a huff, “Fuck off, Summers.”

You couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if your friends wouldn't have interrupted you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It had been Friday evening, and you were in your office at the institute, finishing up grading the last of the papers while waiting for Logan. The two of you had plans to head home together, but he had yet to come and find you. Growing impatient, you decided to look for him yourself. You grabbed your bag and jacket before going out of your office, closing the door silently behind you. The smell of stew wafted through the mansion as you jogged down the stairs from your office to the kitchen. You quietly approached and paused when you saw him with Jean. She was chopping vegetables, while Logan leaned against the island, holding a cup of coffee.

“I don't see why you don't just do it. Everyone can see how perfect you two are for each other,” Jean had sighed.

Your eyes widened and you bit your lip nervously as you instinctively hid behind the wall. You truly hoped Logan wouldn't smell your scent while hiding, considering his heightened sense of smell. You knew you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Jean's words had left you intrigued about what they were discussing.

Logan huffed, “I've already told you—” he tried arguing, but Jean cut him off mid-sentence.

“Logan, come on,” Jean said pointedly. “You keep denying it, but everyone here has seen the two of you dance around each other for years. You can't honestly tell me that you're just friends. Friends don't act the way you two do with each other.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Logan asked, tilting his head to the side. Your stomach churned as you realised they were talking about the two of you. Silently, you pressed your back against the wall and shuffled further behind it, continuing to listen.

“It means that friends don't stare at each other longingly, or they don't flirt with each other, and they certainly don't cuddle together while sharing the same bed,” Jean said, emphasising her point as Logan began to argue. “Besides,” she continued, “you've known her for a while now. There's no one you've been more comfortable with than her. We all know you'll look after each other and be happy together. So why haven't you done anything about it? All we want is for you both to be happy,” Jean concluded.

You bit your lip at her words, feeling a mix of hope and nervousness churn in your stomach. With trembling fingers, you held your breath, waiting for Logan's response. When you heard him sigh, you felt your world begin to crumble around you.

“Yeah, but Jean, it's not like that. We are not like that. We're just friends,” Logan had replied. You had pressed your teeth harshly into your lip, biting down so hard you feared you might draw blood. It was the only thing keeping you from sobbing out loud. Logan's words replayed over and over in your mind. While you had always known he felt that way, hearing it confirmed so casually had left your heart breaking.

Not wanting to listen any longer, you silently turned and hurried toward the main entrance, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once outside, tears flooded your vision as you ran to the mansion gates, searching through your bag for your phone to call a cab. Since you hadn't brought your car and had driven in with Logan that morning, calling a cab was your only option.

When the cab finally arrived, you slid into the backseat and gave the driver your instructions. As he drove you home, you took a deep breath, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat. Your breath came in labored gasps as you fought to keep from breaking down in tears. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you tried to process his words. Silently you let the tears flow down your cheeks.

When you arrived at your building, you paid the cab and noticed your phone buzzing incessantly. You quickly silenced it as you entered your apartment, not bothering to look at who was trying to contact you.

Once you entered your bedroom, you broke down just then as you let out a choked sob while stripping off your clothes. With great effort, you managed to put on your pyjamas before climbing into bed. Soon, you would let your destructive thoughts take over. Deep down, you knew you shouldn't have eavesdropped on their conversation and jumped to conclusions, especially since Logan wasn't done speaking with Jean. But you couldn't bear to stay and listen any longer. You felt too vulnerable as you let his words echo inside your head.

You had been ignoring all the texts from your friends and the calls from Logan specifically, too drained to even hold a conversation.

Eventually, you felt sleep overtaking you, utterly exhausted from a long workweek and an emotionally draining evening.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That same night, you had jolted awake to the sound of a loud rumble. Outside, storm clouds loomed ominously over the city, with thunder crackling through them every few minutes. The storm had been raging outside your apartment, with thunder booming so fiercely it shook the windows. Curled up in your bed, you had whimpered softly, clutching a thick blanket tightly around you—not just for warmth, but for comfort and a sense of protection.

You had never liked thunderstorms, and by now, you must have tried a thousand different ways to distract yourself from them. You'd put on headphones to drown out the noise, but the knowledge of the storm outside still fed your anxiety. Thunderstorms always had a way of making you feel small and utterly helpless.

You felt a tightness building in your chest as you trembled beneath the sheets. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing and calm yourself down. In moments like these, you felt truly helpless. You knew you shouldn't feel ashamed for being this terrified, but you couldn't help it.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the song playing through your headphones, desperate to drown out the storm. Moments later, you felt the bed dip. Slowly, you opened your eyes and found Logan sitting at the end of your bed, his soft gaze fixed on you with a look of quiet concern. A wave of relief washed over you just at the sight of him. Part of you wanted to ignore him and continue being upset with everything that had happened earlier that evening, but you couldn't find the power to do so. After all, he probably didn't even know why you were upset and who were you even kidding, he was everything you needed.

He was sitting there shirtless, dressed only in a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was tousled from sleep. If it weren't for the sheer terror you felt because of the storm outside, you knew your cheeks would be burning at the sight of him like this. You noticed his mouth moving and, reluctantly, you slid one headphone off your ear to hear him.

“W-what?” you squeaked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Sweetheart,” Logan whispered cautiously into the darkness.

At the sound of his voice, the tears that had been brimming in your eyes finally spilled down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, I feel so stupid,” you whispered, taking off your headphones and quickly trying to wipe your tears away, embarrassed by your emotions and the fact that you were terrified by the storm.

Seconds later Logan was climbing up the bed and he was lying right next to you. His strong arms wrapped around your shaking form almost immediately, holding you tightly.

“Shhh it's okay sweet girl, I've got you,” he whispered softly as he kissed your temple. Warmth spread through you at the action and you melted into his embrace.

“I hate being scared of them, Lo,” you mumbled into his chest as he squeezed you tightly.

“It's okay princess, I got you. I won't let anything happen to you.” His hands, surprisingly soft, were stroking your skin in a soothing manner as he continued to press soft kisses around the top of your head.

As Logan held you, you felt yourself slowly begin to calm down. Even though the storm showed no signs of letting up, his presence made you feel much more at ease and secure. Logan meant everything to you—he was your anchor.

“Please, stay,” you whispered as the last few tears slipped down your cheeks.

In the dark, Logan whispered your name and tightened his embrace. “I'm not going anywhere, baby girl.”

As Logan held you close, you felt your body relax gradually. He gently ran his hand through your hair, pulling the covers over both of you and adding an extra layer of warmth.

You reflected on how he often spoke to you and the way he treated you with such care. You couldn't help but overthink his sweet and gentle treatment. You knew you were more emotional and needed extra reassurance and patience, but you had never considered that he might actually have feelings for you beyond friendship. You often felt like a burden to your friends and especially to Logan. You were fairly certain you were the only one he treated this way. His teasing sometimes seemed like it could be flirting, and despite your attempts to deny it, deep down you sensed that you were somehow special to him.

But another part of you couldn't shake what he had said earlier that night to Jean. You felt deeply conflicted and confused about everything happening between the two of you. The uncertainty and mixed emotions left you struggling to understand his true feelings, unsure of how to navigate the situation.

So you did what felt best to you, which was communicating. Even if you hated confrontation so much, you hated being unsure even more.

“Lo?” your voice trembled as you whispered against him.

“Yeah, sweet girl?” He said gently.

You took a little longer to respond, lost in your own thoughts, overthinking everything. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest. Sensing your hesitation, Logan spoke up again, breaking through your spiralling mind.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice lingering in the air as your eyes fluttered open. His head was tilted slightly, worry etched across his face.

“'M-am fine… I just—” you stuttered, your voice cracking. Logan stared at you, waiting patiently for you to finish. “I need to talk about something, or-or it will probably eat me alive if I don't.”

Logan's brow furrowed as his concern deepened, but he remained patient, waiting for you to continue.

“I- I overheard you and Jean earlier tonight…” your voice barely above a whisper.

Recognition settled over him at your words. He sighed shortly after. “What exactly did you hear?”

“You said…” your voice faltered, cracking slightly before you took a deep breath, closing your eyes. “You said we weren't like 'that,' and that we were just friends. After hearing that, I couldn't stay. It hurt too much.” You paused, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I know I shouldn't have eavesdropped, and I'm sorry... I just—” Your voice trailed off as you buried your face in his chest, your rambling finally coming to an end.

He let out a deep sigh, pulling you closer into his embrace. One of his hands gently cupped your cheek, causing your breath to hitch at the contact. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice steady but filled with warmth. Slowly, you opened your eyes, tears welling up as you met his gaze. Logan's expression softened, and he let out a soothing sound. “Angel, if you'd stayed a little longer, you would've heard the rest of the conversation.”

“W-what?” You squeaked, your heart pounding against your chest as you anxiously waited for him to continue.

“First of all,” he began, locking eyes with you as he spoke, “I told Jean that I couldn't tell you how I felt because I never thought you'd feel the same way. I figured you were better off not knowing how I feel about you because…” His voice faltered for a moment, a heavy sigh escaping him before he continued, “I've always believed I didn't deserve someone like you. Someone so beautiful, so patient, intelligent, caring and so sweet.”

“Lo—” It was difficult to process everything he had said. You had been so sure that he didn't feel anything more than platonic for you, so hearing that he did was overwhelming and you needed to let it sink in. “I just thought... you know, with all the people you've had over in the past, you wouldn't feel anything for me,” you said, your sadness making it hard to finish the sentence and your nerves bracing for the words you had been dreading to hear.

“I know it sounds stupid, but I kept convincing myself that if I would have meaningless sex with random people that I would get over you. That if I told you how I felt, I’d lose you,” he went on, his vulnerability tugging at your heart. “That’s the last thing I want. You mean too much to me to risk that. I love you, and the thought of losing you—even if it meant not having you the way I wanted—was unbearable.”

Tears welled in your eyes, slowly slipping down your cheeks as he poured out his heart, leaving you in disbelief. You hiccuped through your tears, “You... y-you love me?”

His expression softened further as he took in your puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Gently, he used his hands to wipe away the tears that were slipping down your cheeks, handling you with far more tenderness and care than you had shown yourself earlier.

“Of course I do,” he replied softly. “In every universe, there's no one I love more than you.”

“Logan, you deserve me. Just as much as I deserve you,” you said, cupping his cheeks as tears continued to stream down your own. “You don't have an idea how much I love you.”

Logan smiled softly before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His arms tightened around you as he began to pepper your face with tender kisses. You couldn't help but giggle against him, feeling the tension between you both melt away bit by bit. The tears slowly came to a stop.

As the emotional intensity of the moment subsided, you felt a sense of relief and contentment. The storm outside seemed to fade into the background as you basked in the warmth of your newfound understanding. You knew that challenges would still come, but facing them together felt infinitely more manageable now that you had acknowledged your feelings for each other.

After placing a final kiss on the tip of your nose, he pulled back, his gaze filled with such deep affection that it left you feeling overwhelmed—but in the best possible way.

Logan caressed your face with fondness as he admired you. “You’re beautiful.”

You’d feel flustered instantly. “You’re so handsome Logan.” You whispered timidly.

“Really?” He’d smile down at you.

“Yes,” you whispered, continuing to meet his gaze shyly, your heart racing as his touch lingered on your skin.

You felt his hand slip beneath the hem of your nightshirt, his fingers tracing the soft skin of your back. A shiver ran down your spine at his touch, drawing his playful gaze as his eyes glinted mischievously. Your breath hitched when his other hand brushed against your bottom lip, sending warmth flooding through your body as his touch became more intimate, exploring you with quiet intensity.

“Do I make you nervous?” he teased with a devious grin.

“I guess you do,” you admitted, biting your lip bashfully.

“And why's that?” Logan asked, leaning in even closer. You could feel his breath against your lips, his nose brushing gently against yours.

There’s a moment of silence as Logan’s face moves closer and closer to your own, both unable to verbalise just how desperate either of you feel for each other.

His hands are warm as they wander all over your back, underneath the soft fabric of your pyjamas. Your eyes flutter close as you enjoy his attention. You feel yourself get lightheaded by his affection and by the close proximity of your bodies.

As your eyes remained locked with his, the intensity between you grew. You found yourself studying every detail of Logan’s face—the small moles scattered across his skin, his beautiful green eyes, the rough stubble along his jawline. Your gaze drifted from his eyes, down the slope of his nose, until you were irresistibly drawn to his lips. His mouth looks so inviting.

How much you’ve dreamed of having them on your own.

You swallowed dryly at the intensity behind his eyes, your heart beating madly in your chest. A flare of heat rushed to your cheeks as you resolved to reveal the truth. You didn’t want to keep it from him any longer, especially with him looking at you as if he was about to devour you.

“B-because I—” you finally spoke as you stumbled over your words. You felt weak in his presence, but in the best way imaginable. Heat spreads through your body, a feverish sensation overwhelming your senses. Your heart raced, refusing to calm down, and your limbs trembled uncontrollably. It wasn’t the kind of fever that came with illness, but a warmth—tingling, like anticipation coursing through your veins. You whimpered as the same warmth settled between your thighs. “I need y-yo—”

Before you could finish your sentence, his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you with an intensity and passion that left you trembling and helpless, while soft whimpers escaped your throat. He’d tug your body fully closer against his own as his mouth claimed yours.

All your thoughts overwhelmed your brain, disabling any rational understanding of what was going on. Gradually, you leaned into Logan, melting into his embrace. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him back.

Logan groaned as he continued to kiss you with a fierce intensity, giving everything he had. You felt his tongue tracing your lips slowly. Knowing what he wanted you parted your mouth slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside and swirl it around yours.

You absorbed all his passion, savouring the warmth of his closeness and the sensation of his rough yet soft hands holding you tightly. You didn’t want to ask how this was happening, nor did you dare question whether it was real or just a dream.

One of his hands roamed over the bare skin of your back beneath your pyjama shirt, leaving goosebumps in his wake, while the other explored the tender curve of your neck. He held you with such tenderness as his mouth continued to move ferociously against yours.

You whimpered against him as warmth and wetness continued to pool between your thighs, your pussy throbbing as his voice rumbled with a chuckle. “You okay there, kitten?” he asked softly, his voice low as his lips brushed against your jaw.

You knew he could smell your arousal, knew he could hear how fast your heart was beating. You bit your lip, trying to stifle another sound, and you tried to bury your face into his chest, feeling the heat spreading across your face and body. Logan was having none of that, his lips quickly reunited with yours. He groaned softly, a deep rumble in his chest, as you trailed your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opened for you without hesitation. His hands gripped at your waist and brought your body flush against his.

You wanted Logan to consume your very being. Claim you as his completely.

Soft little noises of pleasure kept leaving your mouth as he continued to kiss you. His lips pressed against yours, guiding the kiss with a gentle control that made you melt into his embrace. You surrendered completely, letting him lead as you revelled in the sensation. He was so good at kissing that all you wanted was to stay in this moment with him forever.

He pulled away after what felt like hours to breathe, his warm pants fanning across your heated face. He was still holding your face with one hand, and his thumb on your cheek moved a little, stroking your skin with so much tenderness. Murmuring against your lips, he said, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I love you so much.” before delving back in for more.

You whimpered as he nipped at your bottom lip, then gently swiped his tongue over it to soothe the sting. You gasped, and Logan seized the moment to explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue once again. As the kiss grew more heated, you moaned, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

Surprisingly, you completely forgot about the storm that’s raging outside.

Logan devoured you, pouring all his love into you and claiming your mouth and kissing you with so much passion, your body shuddered with want, from the need for him. He moved his lips with yours and swirled his tongue with your own. His hand then moved to tangle in your hair as he pressed his body to yours completely.

Your hands moved to bury in his hair as well. When you pulled at his hair it was a bit rougher than you intended to and it tips his head all the way back and he lets out a loud, wanton moan that makes your whole body flush with arousal. You whined as he finally pulled away, as he left your body flush and panting and craving so much more.

His mouth then moved from your lips to your cheeks as he whispered his love for you again and again. He started trailing long, hot kisses down your jaw and neck. You whimpered pitifully as he suckled lightly on the side of your neck, tilting your head back instinctively to bare more of your soft skin to him.

“Fuck, baby, you’re everything.” He groaned as he bit down gently on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You cried out, impulsively grinding your hips against his own, desperately searching for some much needed friction against your throbbing clit. “You’re mine.” He’d growl against your skin.

You gasped, your eyes flying open when you felt his erection pressing against your pussy. You moaned as your core started clenching around nothing, begging for some attention, his attention.

Logan groaned as you continued to grind against him, grasping your hips into his hands to halt your movements. You whined in protest, as he then rolled you both over, hovering above you as he pinned your arms gently against the mattress.

“So needy.” He chuckled as a devious smile would grow on his face. “Does your sweet little pussy want some attention?” He grinned when you whimpered underneath him, before he continued. “I can always smell how much you need me.” He growled before he rolled his hips against yours again. “This virgin pussy is always begging for me to fill her.”

You didn’t have time to become embarrassed as high pitched whimpers slipped past your lips as he continued to grind against you. You’ve craved this man so bad, and now that he was yours you didn’t want to hold back anymore. He intertwined your hands together as he moved his big straining and clothed cock against your now soaked panties.

“Love those little noises you make for me, such a good girl.” He moaned against the skin of your neck as he pressed open mouthed kisses and licks across your skin.

You whined as he gave you a particular hard thrust. You could feel how massive he felt as he rubbed his cock against your clothed folds. You couldn’t deny that it made you nervous but all you could think about was that you needed and wanted him to take you so bad. More wetness would pool down your heated cunt as you fantasise about him filling your tiny pussy with more than just his cock. “Ah, n-need yo-you Lo…”

Suddenly everything became overwhelming, the temperature in the room rising quickly, the feel of his thick cock thrusting against you, the feel of his touch as it wandered all over your skin and the fact that you were going into a foreign but intimate territory with your best friend had you feeling hot all over.

His features softened as he took in how overwhelmed and flustered you looked. He slowed down his movements and one of his hands would move to hold your face as he slowly leaned down to peck your lips. “You’re okay baby girl, I’ve got you. I will take good care of you.” He whispered against your lips. His low voice sent a new wave of arousal down your body. “Tell me what you need, kitten.”

“You, I need you, Logan. I've always only needed you,” you whimpered against his lips as you reconnected them. His hands gently caressed your thighs, and your mind became hazy with intense lust and overwhelming love for him. Your brain instantly turned into mush as you continued to kiss each other passionately.

The kiss then increased with an intensity that had you gasping for breath. You rolled your hips into his, rubbing your throbbing clit against him for some friction against your core. You moaned into his mouth as you rubbed against him. The front of his sweatpants strained as he moved along with you.

As you kept losing yourself in the kiss, you felt his hands wander up your thighs up to the hem of your shirt. His fingers brushed delicately over the sides of your ribs, moving up and down your skin repeatedly, his fingertips mapping out every dip and curve as they wandered all over your skin.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, admiring you, making you glance up at him shyly from beneath him. He pulled away just slightly only for him to hold the hem of your shirt, and you could tell what he was about to ask before he opened his mouth. You bit your lip and nodded vigorously, causing him to chuckle breathlessly. “You want me to take this off?” He questioned as he tugged at the fabric gently.

You nodded bashfully, unable to use or trust your voice during that moment.

He smiled softly, his hands gently brushing under your shirt before hooking his fingers into the fabric. Slowly, he lifted it, and you raised your arms to help him slip it off.

You felt heat rising on your skin the way his eyes roamed all over you, taking in every little detail. The way Logan was looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love, adoration and lust, made you feel so alive.

He discarded the piece of clothing to the side and began mouthing along your collarbone with affection. You trembled underneath him as he showered you with his attention. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered repeatedly as his mouth travelled all over your exposed skin.

His large hands moved to the curve of your waist where it met your hips and clutched it, holding you tight as he littered damp kisses and nips to your shoulders and any skin along the way down to your breasts. You whimpered as he traced the tip of his nose over the swell of your breast.

He smirked as he looked up at you, breathing in through his nose as he inhaled your scent and you couldn’t help but shiver when he exhaled warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “Fuck, baby girl, you’re so hot.”

Then, he wrapped his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucked and licked with passion.

“L-Lo,” you mewl as you try to grind your hips against him, your cunt seeking friction as it throbs with need.

“Feeling good kitty?” He quipped back as he grins up at you. You felt your skin flush with heat as you just stared down at him. Lust was written all over your face and he had no trouble reading your expression. So he resumed licking, long, lavishing licks with the flat of his tongue over your pebbled nipple as the other hand which was occupying your other breast, travelled all the way down to your panties.

As his fingers slipped underneath the band of your lacy underwear, down to where you needed him the most, his mouth fell open to unleash a loud groan onto your nipple as he felt your wetness, sliding his fingers between your soaked folds.

He explored your wet cunt patiently. Heat overwhelmed your senses as Logan continued to litter soft kisses all over your chest. Your hands found his head, running your fingers through his hair as his mouth continued to wander all over your naked skin.

Logan’s lips moved slowly down your body, kissing every little place he could find on your skin while his hands traced along.

Soon, he would retreat his hand from your heat, leaving you a whimpering mess. He then leant forward, his face meeting your sex, breathing in the smell of your pussy, running his nose against the damp patch on your underwear. You whimpered as he inhaled your scent. “Fuck kitten,” he growled as he couldn’t seem to stop smelling you. “This pussy smells so good, I can’t wait to taste ya.”

A devious smile played on Logan’s lips as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. “I am sure you taste just as good as you smell, if not better.” He groaned before taking your underwear between his teeth, while pulling it off your legs slowly. A shuddering breath left your lips, speechless as you watched him take off your lacy panties, becoming needier the longer you watched him. Logan kept looking at you as he slid down your body, pulling it off of you when it reached your ankles.

Once he took them off completely he gently pushed your legs wide for him, whimpering as the air hit your wet slit. He took a moment as his eyes took over you, your glistening centre clenching around nothing as he continued to stare at your wet hole. The man between your legs would moan at the sight. Not much later, Logan smirked as he kissed all the way up to your leg, taking his sweet time to give your body the attention you deserved. He pressed soft kisses from your ankles up to your knees, his hands moving along with his mouth, caressing the insides of your thighs as he gradually moved up your legs.

His lips lingered on your thighs, licking and sucking some kisses on your soft skin, Logan’s lips were so close to where you needed him the most yet he felt so far away.

“So pretty,” he murmured as he guided your legs over either of his shoulders.

You were about to beg as his lips detached from your thigh, only for moments later to feel him nuzzling against your pussy, smearing your juices across his lips and opening you up to his skilled tongue.

You gasp and squirm at the contact of his wet tongue.

He then pulls back for a second, “pussy tastes so good,” he moaned before his fingers moved to spread your outer lips for him. “But I think I'm gonna play with my girl for a bit.” Logan smiled as he slid a finger inside of you, watching the way your body squirmed at the sensation, moaning against the pillow next to you as you tried to muffle yourself.

You moaned as he moved his thick and long finger inside your tight walls. “So wet for me baby girl, you’re literally dripping on my finger,” he said before he pressed some kisses on your pubic bone, making you buck your hips in response. “Easy, kitty, we have all night.”

“L-Logan, please please I need more. Need your mouth and just. More. Pleaseeee need you so ba—” your whining got cut off the moment you felt his lips wrap around your clit, sucked it into his mouth, coaxing a loud but broken moan out of you. “F-Fuck!”

You felt like screaming, you didn’t know what to do with your hands, feeling so lost and overwhelmed with the pleasure Logan was giving you already. He dove between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance along with his finger before he travelled up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet appendage before sucking your button into his mouth.

The whine that came out of you only drove Logan to seek out more of those heavenly sounds. As his one single digit pumped in and out of you, you couldn’t help but appreciate that his fingers felt so much more pleasurable and thicker than your own. As bliss overwhelmed your senses, you felt your whole body start to tremble.

Your core began clenching around his finger, begging for more. He pumped his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace. Instinctively you tried moving your hips, slowly, grinding against his hand and mouth as he moaned. He gave you an intense look as he continued to fuck you with his finger. His eyes couldn’t seem to stay in one place as he admired how beautiful you were underneath him.

You were panting heavily, barely able to think straight, your mind turning hazy as he slowly slipped a second finger inside your tight channel.

Logan moved them slowly at first as your pussy tried to adjust to the addition. The stretch was overwhelming but oh so satisfying. Little whimpers left your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. He moved his face back to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.

You gasped, his tongue slipped inside your mouth, kissing you with so much passion, giving you everything he had to offer. “That feels good doesn't it, princess?” Logan groaned as his thumb made contact with your clit. You bucked your hips and nodded quietly. “Use your words pretty girl,” he taunted while he curled his fingers inside you as he played with the sensitive spot inside you.

“Yes, please please Lo, feels… so good.” You moaned loudly.

Soon his lips travelled all the way down your body as whines and whimpers left your trembling lips, silently begging for more — all while he was still finger fucking you.

Logan inhaled your scent as soon as he leaned forward, but didn’t let you wait in anticipation much longer. He wet his lips before his head dipped between your legs, warm tongue licking a slow stripe across your outer lips, all the way up to your button.

“Ah, fuck!” You cried out, your hips bucking off the mattress.

Squeaky, senseless noises bubbled up from your throat wantonly. Your hips stuttered against him and he just sighed like there was nothing in the world he'd rather do than this, eating you out on your bed.

You were a mess of his name, chanting and stuttering over and over again like a prayer. Your eyes squeezing shut to the point of tears, his mouth licked up your clit, as he continued to finger you while one of his other hands was holding your hip, pinning you to the soft sheets as you bucked into him, trying to urge him to do more.

The way he build up your arousal by pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. The familiar coil in your belly continued to build up as Logan suckled on your sensitive bud. Your abdomen tightened as he began quickening his pace again, his fingers hitting into that sweet spot with precision, had your toes curling as you clenched your thighs around his head.

Logan was lapping at you with determination, moving his fingers continuously as he slowly got you to the edge.

“Oh, my—”you whimpered, trembling digits sinking half into his brown hair and the other against your teeth, as you tried to silence yourself. “Fuck, aahh Logan, f-fuck…”

He moaned against you as his lips sealed around your clit and you bucked your hips at the action. Warmth spread throughout your whole body as he began talking you through it. “Fuckin’- you taste so good. Feels so good. You’re just… everything.”

You whimpered as he continued. “Come on,” he grunted as he pumped his fingers faster in and out of you. “Come on baby, cum for me.”

“Ah, d-daddy,” You gasped loudly as your whole body trembled even more, the hot familiar feeling continued to spread all over your body, your body tingling, your hips moving at their own accord against Logan’s hand and face. Totally unaware of the word that slipped past your lips as your body tensed as he called you ‘a good girl’ and shortly after you came against his mouth and around his fingers.

“That’s my girl.”

Your whole mind felt like exploding and all you could see were stars. You felt so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and emotions you were experiencing. Your body still trembled as you felt yourself come down from your high.

As you slowly came back to your senses you felt him gently pull his fingers out of your pulsing hole. But you still felt Logan’s mouth on you, licking and sucking at your pussy and it didn’t feel like he was gonna stop any time soon. You whined as he moaned against you while he licked against your tight entrance, licking up your release, his tongue prodding your slick hole.

“‘S too much.” You whimpered at the overstimulation.

Logan ignored your pleas, moaning against your heat as he continued to eat you out. The man you adored so much between your legs kept sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises of ecstasy spurred him on, to move his lips back up to your clit, sucking the nub softly between his lips.

“You love having daddy eat your sweet pussy don’t you?” He smirked, looking up at your flustered and embarrassed face as he continued licking your soaked cunt. “No need to be embarrassed, baby. I like it.”

The walls of your pussy clenched furiously, the empty feeling inside you intensifying with every lick, and as your wetness trickled out of you, your core practically begged him to fill it up.

“Oh sweet girl.” Logan tutted as you began grinding your hips against his face as moans kept spilling from your lips. “You’re so sensitive, kitten.” He chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your clit.

Eventually he leaned down, finally slipping his tongue into your entrance, he curled the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encouraged him to do it again and again.

Writhing below him, you felt him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that had you seeing stars, while your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably. Your fingers moved once again, gripping onto his dark hair rather harshly as you pushed your hips against his face shoving his tongue deeper inside your hole.

“Please,” you begged. “‘M close.”

“Please what?” He taunted as he continued to lick your heat.

“P-please,” you stuttered and paused before finishing timidly. “Daddy.”

“Good girl,” he said before plunging his tongue back inside you as his thumb came up to press against your little bundle of nerves. Moments later, the tension snapped inside your lower tummy, cumming with a loud whine, your hips stuttered as your vision blurred. You cried out his name, your voice unable to remain steady.

Your hips stuttered until the final waves of aftershock pass. As you slowly came back down to reality again while you tried to catch your breath, you heard him praising you softly while he continued to lap at your wetness gently. You whined and nudged him away with your leg, only to react with a chuckle.

“Taste so good, baby. Could eat your sweet pussy all day.” He grinned as he licked the wetness off his mouth. Logan smirked, holding eye contact with you as he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth.

You giggled as he licked his fingers clean, feeling slightly embarrassed by the action. Trying to hide your flushed face, you lazily raised your hands to cover it, but Logan wasn’t having any of it. With a gentle smile, he placed tender kisses all over your hands, pulling them down slowly. Then, he leaned in closer, pressing sweet kisses to your nose, your forehead, and both your cheeks before finally capturing your lips. Each kiss was playful, filled with warmth, as laughter bubbled softly between you, his grin widening against your mouth.

He pulled away with a satisfied sigh, a warm smile spreading across his face as he reached to touch the side of your neck, tracing his fingertips up and down.

You exhaled as you melted at the feel of his touch and kissed his thumb as it came to trace across your lips. Your shaky legs wrapped around his hips, and with a playful gleam in your eyes, you gave his thumb a tender lick, holding his gaze as you rubbed your still sensitive heat against his clothed cock.

“F-fuck, you can’t just do that kitten.” He groaned as his hands came to hold your hips, stilling your movements.

You whined, pouting as you looked up at him. “Why not?”

“It’s hard to control myself around you.” He grunted as he started grinding his cock against you. Your gaze wandered downward, following the line of the vein near his V-line as it disappeared beneath his grey sweatpants. You couldn’t help but whine underneath him as he continued to grind his covered cock against your growing wetness. You gasped after giving you a particular hard thrust, that’s when you realised and felt he wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath them. He felt massive. “I’ve been trying to control myself for years. I think I’d have to control myself a bit longer.”

“W-why?” you hiccuped as he kept rutting his hips into yours.

“Don’t wanna hurt ya.” He mumbled, as his cock strained against his sweatpants.

“But I know you won’t.” You said, your voice steady, filled with all the confidence you could summon. You watched as his jaw clenched, his grip tightening slightly as he held himself back, resisting the urge to just take you like he always wanted.

“How are you so certain?” His breath hitched when you tightened your legs around him.

“I-I, because I trust you.” You continued to stutter as you both rolled your hips against each other. His eyes darkened with desire, but you could tell he was trying to restrain himself, fighting against what he truly wanted, even though the tension between you was nearly unbearable. Still, you held his gaze, unwavering. “Because you love me.”

Logan groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep control, every muscle in his body tense with the effort. You could see the conflict etched across his face, the battle between what he wanted and what he was trying to hold back. His grip on you tightened slightly, a sign of the restraint still lingering in him, though it was slowly slipping away. His breathing was ragged, and for a moment, you thought he might give in. But then, he swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay still, clinging to the last shred of restraint that hadn’t left him yet. “You don’t know how hard this is,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice thick with desire. “How difficult it’s been, every day since I met you, trying to hold back while being around you.”

“I think I do, Logan,” you whispered, gazing up at him. “Maybe not in the exact way you feel it, but I’ve struggled too, convincing myself daily that I could never have you. And now, realising I could’ve had you from the start—it’s almost unbearable.” You bit your lip, noticing how his expression softened. “That’s why I don’t want us to hold back anymore. I don’t think I can endure it any longer. Please, I need you, Logan. I love you, and I’ll always want you—”

Your words were cut off as Logan surged towards you, cupping your face as he kissed you passionately. His lips moved fervently against yours, as if he was trying to make up for every moment of restraint. Making up for any lost time. The intensity of his kiss made your head spin, your heartbeat quickening as you melted into his embrace. His hands then started roaming around your body, his hold on you tightening occasionally, pulling you closer, while his breath grew heavy as you felt every emotion as he kissed you. You clung to him, pouring out every feeling and emotion out with every heated kiss.

“I love you,” Logan murmured between tender kisses, breathlessly whispering your name.

Your own hands began wandering all over his body and eventually down his solid chest until your fingers met his abdomen, slipping momentarily underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. With a mix of urgency and desire, you tugged at them while whimpering underneath him as you continued to kiss him deeply.

“Just relax, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered softly after pulling away from the kiss. He eventually took it upon himself to slowly peel back, shuffling a bit to rid himself of the last piece of fabric on his body. He tossed it aside, fully exposing himself to your hungry eyes.

Your breath hitched, your eyes wide. Fuck, he was massive. Long and thick in all the right ways. Just as you thought, the vein between his V Lines moved down to his cock. A spark of heat shot down to your pulsing core as you imagined how he would fit or fill you up. But it was also accompanied by a twinge of nerves.

Logan chuckled as he moved closer to you, his lips chasing your own as he enveloped you in another sweet but deep kiss.

The two of you kissed languidly for a moment, treasuring the heat of each other's bodies as your lips slot together with ease, but soon enough the kisses become deeper, more frantic and hands start to grip tighter and legs tangling together.

It's like you're both starved, this insatiable hunger for each other.

You couldn’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his thick cock. You whined as it turned slick as you kept grinding yourself against him, and he had no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

You gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You were so wet. Logan swallowed your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against you. He kissed you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

He held his length in his hand as he kept rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you were squirming underneath him, and back down. The thought of his thickness finally entering your pussy made you wetter by the second, turning you more on. Logan swallowed your little mewls with his mouth, his hips rolling with yours.

You were trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covered your whole body with his. You writhed against him, wishing he was just in you already and filling you up and consuming you with pleasure once again.

“P-please, Logan.” You stuttered, your body trembling underneath him as you waited for his next move.

Logan hummed as he concentrated while circling your clenching hole teasingly. You arched your back slightly as you whined, silently begging to finally fill your pussy the way you’ve always wanted him to do.

“Relax, baby girl.” He whispered after he licked and kissed underneath your ear.

“Please d-daddy, I-I need you.” You whimpered in anticipation. Logan would grunt loudly before nudging the tip of his cock against your soaked hole. Your legs trembled underneath him, a mix of nerves and excitement. “Want you to fill this little pussy. Need you t-to fill it with more than your cock. N-need your cum.” You whispered seductively against his ear as his last bit of restraint snaps.

At your words, Logan gradually put more pressure on your entrance making you whimper underneath him, once he finally slid his tip inside you, a gasp elicited from the both of you.

You’re aware this was just barely the tip of him, but you couldn’t help but feel the stretch burn already. Logan slid in so slowly it was agonising. You cried out as he gradually pushed more of his pulsing cock inside your own clenching hole. He was so big.

You tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly as you whined underneath him. He panted along with you, his warm breath fanning over your face while he kept his forehead pressed against yours. The stretch stung, but his pace kept it bearable. He guided himself a centimetre further, then another, another, until you were digging your nails into his scalp, a gasp spilling from your lips.

His hips stilled instantly once he heard the pained noises falling from your lips. Tears began to prickle at your waterline, a combination of discomfort and the overwhelming feelings that were coursing through you.

“Doing so good for me baby,” he praised as he peppered your face with gentle kisses. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“Please,” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered close.

Logan continued to move almost painfully slow, letting you adjust to every centimetre of him. After a couple of seconds you were able to relax more into it. You whimpered, clutching his shoulders at the stretch, the heat in your abdomen growing as your walls fluttered around him, pleasure beginning to bloom in your stomach.

“So full…” you whined.

“Such a good girl,” he grunted softly. You think there wasn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he utters those words you felt your heat get even more wet. He leaned down as he kissed your lips gently, as he filled you up bit by bit. He hoped the sweetness of his embrace would soften the sting.

You’re trembling as you canted your hips up, begging for him to fill you to the brim, while you gripped the bedsheets between your fingers. “Please Lo, need more. I can take it, daddy.” You whimpered as you involuntarily and repeatedly tightened around his thick cock.

He groaned at your desperate whines, losing his composure momentarily as he thrust the rest of his length all the way inside your tiny hole. The head of his dick kissing your cervix once he bottomed out. You cried out as you were trembling underneath him, trying to adjust to his size while your pussy kept pulsing around his cock.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight.” He hissed as he let you adjust to his cock.

His lips came to press soft and tender kisses all over your face as he let you relax. Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes as you continued to adjust around him. You felt so full, as if he was made for you, and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely had you seeing stars and digging fingernails into his shoulders. You felt one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reached up to your face.

His breathing was heavy as you squeezed his cock repeatedly. Small whimpers left your lips as you squirm underneath him.

You needed more.

You hadn’t even realised your eyes had drifted shut until you slowly opened them, gazing up at Logan with a soft, pleading look. “Please, Logan.”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated deep in his chest.

“Need more.” You whispered.

“Aww, does my sweet girl need me to move?” he teased, tilting his head with a playful smirk.

“Need you, please.” You begged as your pussy clenched around his thick cock rather hard which made him groan above you. “Please, I need you to fuck me so bad.”

His breath hitched as he exhaled shakily, before nodding quietly. Slowly, he started moving inside you, gentle but deep. One hand reached down to play with your clit, while the other one went to intertwine your fingers together, holding your hand tightly.

The sting hurt for a while, but it easily morphed into a more pleasurable feeling as he moved against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he was giving you was mixed between pain and pleasure.

He grunted as he dropped his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin just below it. Soon enough the pain would completely disappear and all you could feel was pure bliss.

Slowly, you were getting used to his girth, anticipating it every time he pulled out of you before moving forward. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he ground his cock into you. The angle was so good, gradually he would pick up his pace, leaving you a whimpering mess underneath him. As he fucked into you in languid strokes, the sound of slick skin and your noises of pleasure could be heard in your bedroom.

“How do you feel?” he whispered against your ear.

“Feels so good.” You moaned as you tightened around his cock, this time voluntarily.

You whimpered as he picked up the pace, angling himself in a certain way inside you. He finally leaned down to wrap his arms around you, the action elicited a gasp out of you as you grab at the sheets around you, as he fucked you harder and faster.

Every time he’d thrust inside you, his pelvic bone would drag along your throbbing clit, making you cry out his name in pure ecstasy.

“You’re taking me so well, sweet girl. Doing so so, good for me.” He whispered against your skin as he moved to nuzzle his face against your neck.

Soft grunts fell from Logan’s lips whenever he hit a specific deep spot inside you. You whimpered as his lips moved back up to your lips, enveloping them in a heated kiss. You melted completely against him, holding you close to him as he fucked you. He snaked one of his hands down between your conjoined bodies finding your clit as he rubbed two fingers over the sensitive nub.

At a certain point you felt him slide into a pressure point in your core and coupled with the way his fingers circled your clit, it had you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure he was providing you. The whimpers that fell from your lips became higher pitched as he picked up his pace.

“Feeling good, kitten?” He groaned, as his lips curled into a mischievous smile as he admired the way your face twisted in pure bliss. Too overwhelmed by the new experience. Filth and praise continued to come out of his mouth as he fucked you. “This pussy was made for daddy.”

His mouth covered your own instead as he swallowed all your little noises of pleasure, you could feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tighter with every movement and every touch.

Your whimpers, gasps of pleasure and pants increased as ecstasy and warmth overwhelmed your senses.

“Taking daddy’s cock so well, baby.”

His hands couldn’t get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. You whimpered at the feeling of his speed, feeling another orgasm coming so close, eyes tightly shut and legs locked bruisingly around Logan’s hips. He could feel it too, in the way you clenched and squeezed around his length, and he began to drive even harder into your pussy as he tilted his hips gently, searching for the one place that he hoped would blow your mind.

“Ah, daddy—” you hiccuped as he fucked you so good you felt like a blabbering mess. “Need you to come inside my pussy...”

“Is that what you want?” He growled as you pulsed around him. “Can’t believe it… it’s your first time and you’re already begging for me to cum inside. So filthy. You’re close aren’t ya?”

You nodded furiously as your arms trembled as they wrapped around him, your nails digging in his back as he moaned on top of you. The feeling of the coil tightening in your belly, was tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “Bet you’d look even prettier with my cum inside your pussy. All full and messy.”

“Please…” you moaned as you thought about him filling you up. “Please Lo, baby, daddy… please fill this pussy up.”

He grunted as he buried his face into your neck as he fucked into you, making the whole bed rattle at his force.

“You want to cum pretty girl?”

You nodded frantically at his words while your eyes fluttered close as you bit your lip harshly. You were bucking up beneath him, nails digging into his skin even more as his hand moved back to your clit as another came to intertwine your hands together, pinning them to the bed. He rubbed your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’ll cum around him.

“Cum for daddy.” Logan demands softly.

And when he finally nudged against that spot inside you coupled with his deep voice– you were exploding, shattering, and detonating all at once, as you cried out his name. Blood was rushing so wildly in your ears that you couldn’t possibly hear the way you wail and sob as he crashed his lips onto yours, swallowing all your noises. Your head lolled back, your back arching violently as you twist and contort in pleasure underneath him.

“That’s it, good girl.” Logan moaned in your ear as your walls spasmed and pulsed around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing himself up as he thrust deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “You want me to fill this pussy up? Make it all messy?”

You were still in a daze but you were able to understand him so you nod vigorously at his words, whining even more at the sensitivity. Your pussy squeezed around his cock in anticipation. “Please…”

“Fuck, take it baby.” It washed over him instantly, hips stuttering into you as he grew desperate, eyes squeezing shut when he felt his cock throb inside of you before hot spurts of his seed splashed along your walls, painting them in ribbons of white. The warmth of his seed filled you up and spread inside your pussy. The feeling made you whimper, limbs limp on the bed as he shallowly thrust into you, making sure you took every last drop.

His warm cum filled you up deeply, the mild heat of it settling deep inside you and causing you to squirm under him. Logan panted as he let his body slump against yours. He rested on top of you, trying to steady his breath. His cock was still nuzzled deep within you, still half hard as it kept his cum from leaking out.

It was a blurry haze when you came back to your senses, your whole body was aching whilst simultaneously feeling the most relaxed you've ever been, equally as exhausted as it was energised, and you didn’t bother trying to question why. Just pure contentment.

Once both of you caught your breaths, Logan leaned his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.

“That was…” He breathed, smiling tiredly at the complete dopey mess he's made of you; hair all over the place and eyes lidded heavily, heated skin glowing and your lips looking swollen from all the kisses you’ve both shared.

“Oh yeah, that was mind blowing.” Your voice came out hoarse, still recovering from the height and volume it had gone, and you cleared your throat gently before you smiled up at him.

“I love you.” He whispered before he captured your lips in a deep and lazy kiss. You could feel his soft mouth smiling against yours as you whimpered against him. You felt yourself melting against his embrace as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you too.” You whispered back against his mouth.

You shifted slightly when you felt that he was still hard inside you. Biting your lip, you squeezed purposely around him at the realisation. Logan groaned at the feeling, his large palms sliding up your sides in a soothing manner.

“Don’t do that.” Logan grumbled but you saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Why not?” You giggled as your hands trailed through his hair.

“Makes me wanna fuck you again.” Your boyfriend mumbled.

“Hm, that’s kind of the point.” You continued to giggle.

Logan chuckled as he pulled his head back, looking at you with a mirthful smile.

Before you knew it, he pulled out only to man handle your body in the position he wanted you to be. Manoeuvres your body until you’re on your tummy. His hands came to hold your hips, pulling them up, your ass in the air for him.

He kneads the flesh of your cheeks before spreading them apart for him. Your body slumps slightly forward with exhaustion but Logan is quick to grip your hips, holding you in the same position. “Oh kitten, I’m not done with you yet.” He tutted.

Your cheeks flushed with heat as you prepared yourself for a long night filled with passion.

thank you for reading 🩷🩷🩷

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fluff #hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x you #my writing

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prkhaven · 2 months ago

Note

that big chain hoon was wearing dangling and swinging in ur face as he practically folds u in half and pounds you til u cant walk….. cough…

nico…. let’s talk a walk into the sunset, hand in hand.

warnings: smut minors do not interact, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, profanity, best friend’s loner brother!sunghoon, petnames(princess, good girl)

SUNGHOON doesn’t have a girlfriend, never has and never will according to his sister. little does she know her very own best friend screams and pulls at his chain every other day.

he takes the empty remarks thrown to him by his sister.

always waving her off by going up to his room and ignoring the following gaze coming from you beside her to lock himself in his room until the dead of night where you would come knocking.

and every time he opens the door, he sees the same shimmering eyes you always give him when no one is around and he falls deep.

that’s how he finds himself ramming into your soaked self. your legs perched on his shoulders as he pressed his body weight down onto you.

you let out gasps and strained whines to keep quiet, not feeling in being caught but sunghoon hates when you do that. and you knew that. “you know i love to hear you princess” he drags himself out before pushing back in a slow manner

you clawed at his biceps, the cold chain dangling over your face as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t get shy on me now, you were just riding me with no shame in my car last night”

you blabbed incoherently leaving him to chuckle at your state “can’t fucking think straight without my cock buried deep inside of you huh”

a louder moan than anticipated slipped past your lips when his pressed down into your clit. you slap a hand over your mouth to keep quiet but weak moans melted into your palm.

sunghoon gripped the flesh of your legs, his fingers digging into them while he pistons his cock deep past your gummy walls. a stretch that you will never get used to. “answer me princess”

“yes! yes!” you muffled into your hand but he stopped his thrust and gripped to your wrist to yank the restraint that stopped him from properly hearing you

“repeat it” he told and your bottom lip quivered however not a thought processed when he dragged his shaft out again, his tip hanging inside of you before pushing back in one swift motion, “say it”

“please sunghoon! yes” you slipped out loudly uncaring of who heard you, merely wanting sunghoon to take care of you

“that’s my good girl” he rubbed a hand over the back of you thighs as he picked up his pace, ranging from fast and sharp to long and soft

the drag of pleasures made you dizzy. your hand balled into a fist which didn’t last long when he pried open your hand and made you grab his chain.

instantly you pulled down at the cold metal hovering your face to press his forehead against yours. sunghoon smirked wildly when your face contorted when he reached inside your cervix.

“you look pretty” he slurred making your heart flutter in your chest, “you always do”

“i need to make you mine. breed your pussy and ruin it just for me”

your mind accepted the words as truth—in your mind they were nothing but that. “hoonie” you mewled his name sending him into a haze

pushing his cock harder into you, you pulled harder on the necklace. he groaned at the burn at his neck but he pressed on.

each stretch and push made your head lol back into his pillows, your senses becoming overwhelmed by him, “take it princess- i’m going to fill you up until it swishes in your stomach, you’ll be feeling me days”

your hand weakened around the chain allowing it to dangle over your face. your hands fisting his sheets as your body jolts forwards with each push.

“more. more” you blabbed and he laughed at the incoherence

“what was that?” he teased and you knew that but not in a mood to mess around, you gave up all strength and melted into him

“need more- want more please” your wish was his command

each thrust made you see stars like the ones that sparkled in his eyes. your heart clenched in your chest while catching a glimpse of his gaze. so focused, so enthralled.

sunghoon grunts everytime you clamped around him until he let out a guttural moan when you convulse around his shaft and covered him in your release, quickly prompting his own orgasm.

he strains a moan as he spilled into your velvet walls, painting them white of him. the grasp on your legs loosened and you were left to think that was it and you’d go back to your best friend’s room like nothing happened as always.

however you were mistaken when sunghoon suddenly adjusted himself in between your legs, your lower half slightly lifted off the bed and onto his lip.

his cock still lodged in you as you feel a hold metal on your chest. peering open your eyes and looking down to see the big silver chain resting on your marked chest before looking up to sunghoon who softly smiled—different than the polite ones he always gives whenever everyone else is around.

“looks way better on you then me” he softly says but suddenly hooks his fingers around the jewelry and lifts your neck up by it as he slams his hips upwards to meet yours

bringing his mouth to your ear, he chuckled loudly, “keep it safe for me okay princess”

you were in for a long night.

and that following morning you stumbled into the kitchen, your hands on the countertop to stabilize your weaken legs as you tried to squeeze your thighs together to stop the leaking cum from dripping down anymore.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” your best friend points out and sunghoon who just walked in has to hold back a smile as he takes a sip of water

but the water spits from his mouth in shock at your next words for his sister’s question while you stare dead into his eyes.

“your brother happened”

——

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #sunghoon hard thoughts #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard hours

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geminiwritten · 2 months ago

Text

from friends to forever ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: childhood friends to lovers - you've been in love with hangman for as long as you can remember, but he's never looked at you that way, not until he meets a guy you're dating for the first time and everything you thought was unrequited becomes dangerously mutual

notes: okay, i really need to stop writing at work and actually start working but also THIS!!! i started without a plan and then got super excited and went a little over the 8k limit i set for myself... but i still really hope y'all like it! please let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, text screenshots, a bit cheesy, reader is shorter than hangman (feel like i should mention that), bob x phoenix, and a little horny? let me know if i've missed anything!

word count: 9016

“He is fucking incorrigible,” Javy says as he slides a tray of beers across the table. “He started hitting on this woman by the juke box but then her boyfriend walked through the door, so he moved on to the blonde at the bar.”

You smile into the first sip of your beer while Natasha and Bob crane their necks to see where Jake might be. The bar is busy for 5PM on a Wednesday, but not overly packed. The sun is just about to touch the horizon, casting a warm glow through the beach-side windows. It’s only Bob, Javy, and Nat with you this afternoon. The others are still at the base finishing some training course that they didn’t do with the rest of the squad last week. Jake was with you too, but he quickly found himself preoccupied with the bar’s female clientele.

“I can’t believe anyone would put up with him for as long as you have,” Natasha says, nodding toward you.

You shrug as you roll your pint glass between both hands. “I’ve learnt to ignore it.”

You’ve known Jake Seresin since you were ten years old; that was when your mother first invited the Seresins over for dinner. Jake’s mother had just started working with yours, and they’d quickly become best friends. Ever since then, you’ve never been able to escape him – not that you’ve ever really tried to.

When you turned twelve you finally realised why your heart would always beat a little faster whenever you saw Jake, and then when you turned fourteen you realised how easy it would be for him to break it. At sixteen you decided to stop obsessing over him and date someone else, but by eighteen you figured out that Jake had set your standards for men way too high.

As years passed you learnt how to better hide your affections for Jake. He was a ladies’ man through and through, which meant you couldn’t go crying to your pillow every time he showed up with a new woman on his arm. You tried to date, but it never really went all that well because by the third or fourth month, you were comparing them too harshly to your best friend.

When Jake joined the navy, you accepted the fact that you would never see him again, but he didn’t let that happen. As it turns out, Jake was just as attached to you as you were to him – minus the ‘in love’ part. He wrote to you and called you, and he would visit whenever he was stateside. You were already living in San Diego when he got assigned to the special detachment on North Island, and when he and his squad got asked to stick around, you quickly became close friends with all of them.

You like to think that you have your stupid little crush on Jake Seresin well under control now. It’s in a small, metal box wrapped in chains and hidden in the darkest corner of your heart. It’s so well hidden now that you’re positive none of the daggers have any idea of what your true feelings for Jake are. You don’t even flinch anymore when he jokingly introduces you as his sister.

“And this is my sister,” Jake says, gesturing to you with one arm while the other stays wrapped around the blonde woman. “The one I was telling you about.”

You give the woman a flat smile before bringing your beer to your lips and taking a generous gulp.

“Shelley and I were just going to go for a walk on the beach,” he adds.

You nod, knowing exactly what that means. “I’ll get a lift home with Phoenix.”

His smirk stretches into a full-blown grin, one that Shelley can’t seem to look away from. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

He bids the rest of the group farewell before leading the woman out the door, and you definitely don’t miss the way his hand slides down to her ass on the way.

Natasha shakes her head. “I can’t believe him sometimes. How often does he do this to you?”

You quirk a brow. “Ditch me for a hot woman?”

She nods.

“Nat, if I had a dollar for every time, I’d quit my job and move to the Amalfi Coast.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?” Bob asks.

Yes.

“No, it’s just Jake.” You shrug one shoulder. “I’m used to it.”

Javy tips his head quizzically. “So, why does he introduce you as his sister?”

You take another long sip of your beer, almost draining the glass, before plonking it back on the table. “The first time he decided to keep a girl around for longer than one night, she didn’t like how close we were. She’d always try to go through his phone and would blow up every time he said he was hanging out with me. It only lasted six months, but now he just does it out of habit. Just in case they do end up sticking around for a while, then he doesn’t have to explain anything.”

You conveniently leave out the detail about how Jake had ditched the woman one night to rescue you from a bad date, which was definitely the catalyst for her hating you. But you don’t talk about that night.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “That’s ridiculous."

You’re not sure what to say to that because you’ve never not felt a pinch of jealousy when it comes to Jake, and you sure as shit wouldn’t want to share him with anyone else if he was yours. So, you can’t really blame those other women for not liking how close the two of you are.

You sit in the same booth with your friends until the sun dips below the horizon. The bar only gets a little busier before clearing out almost completely by 8PM, which is when you all decide to head home. There’s no word from Jake, but that isn’t unusual.

Natasha drives you home in companionable silence, which is nice because you’re not particularly in the mood to chat. You’re too busy wrapping another chain around that box in your heart, trying to stop it from rattling at the memory of that night when Jake saved you from your terrible date all those years ago.

- That Night -

You glance at your phone from the corner of your eye, checking that it hasn’t yet burnt a hole through the tabletop.

“But then all my friends were doing it, so I couldn’t really say no. You know?” Benji, your date, hasn't stopped talking from the moment you sat down, and he doesn’t seem at all perturbed by your lack of interest. “I guess it’s just one of those things that comes with the job. If I don’t party with the clients, then they won’t respect me. You know?”

You press your lips into a thin line, not trusting yourself to speak in case you completely blow up at the moron sitting across from you. You’d like to think that you’re not even sure why you’re on this date, but you know exactly why you’re here. Because Jake fucking Seresin is on a date with some Victoria’s Secret super model, and you couldn’t stand the thought of staying home and watching 90s sitcom reruns alone again.

He’s only visiting for a few days, and you’re trying not to be mad about the fact that he’s chosen one of those days to go on a date.

“So, I guess one thing led to another,” Benji continues, “and the next thing I knew, I was on a flight to Vegas with the CEO.” He chuckles to himself, even though no part of that story was anything but horrifying. “Anyway, I’m going to take a leak.” He stands from his chair without even looking at you and stalks off toward the bathrooms.

You grab your phone and text the one person you know you can count on, even if it might ruin his date.

Your eyes dart from your phone screen to the bathroom door and back. Benji is taking his sweet time, but that’s fine by you. You’d rather just ghost the guy than try to make up some lame excuse as to why you have to leave. Three minutes tick by before you decide to go outside. Even if Benji returns before Jake gets here, it will probably take him another couple of minutes to find you.

You stand up and drop some cash on the table before weaving through the restaurant to get to the front door. Just as you step out into the cool night air, Jake’s car screeches to a halt at the curb. Like, literally screeches. He must have been flying down the street.

He pushes the passenger door open, and you duck into the car. “Did you speed the whole way here?”

He grins at you. That gorgeous, breath-taking grin that makes his eyes sparkle and always gets him what he wants. “I speed everywhere, even in the skies.”

You roll your eyes before turning to look out at the restaurant, seeing Benji’s confused face through the glass of the big front window as he returns to the table.

“Is that him?” Jake asks.

You nod, and then Jake honks the fucking car horn. Your head snaps back to him, eyes like saucers, as he grins and waves at Benji before hitting the gas. Your body is pressed back into the seat and all the air sucked from your lungs. There’s no way that you would ever get in a jet with this idiot, and you pity any person who does.

“Jesus, are you fucking mental?” you finally manage to gasp out.

He chuckles. “Not my name, Sugar, but yes.”

That fucking nickname. You’re suddenly grateful for the darkness of the night as you feel heat creep into your cheeks.

“What were you doing on a date with a loser like that, anyway?”

The car’s engine growls, and you watch him shift gears like you’re watching a porno. “Is that really any of your business?”

He tips his head and glances at you from the corner of his eye. “If you’re going to have an attitude, I can drop you back off with Coke-Nose-Carl.”

You snort a very unladylike laugh, which only makes him smile wider.

“I was bored,” you admit. “I haven’t gone out in a while, so I downloaded some dating apps and-”

“Dating apps?” He scoffs. “You don’t need dating apps to get a date. The only thing you’re going to get from those is an STD or a Netflix true crime documentary about you and the six other women he killed.”

You can’t help but laugh again, because Jake in a good mood is utterly infectious. But then you realise why he’s in a good mood and your heart sinks into your stomach.

“I appreciate you helping me out, but I really didn’t mean to ruin your date.”

He waves a hand dismissively before landing it back on the gear stick. “Don’t worry about it, I told her it was an emergency. I’ll just send some flowers in the morning and she’ll be all over me again. She’s a total goner this one. Might keep her around for a while.”

Every word feels like another pin in your voodoo doll.

“How will that work?” you ask, trying to sound nothing but genuinely curious. “Aren’t you flying out again in a couple of days?”

“Yeah, but I’m hoping to get some real time off in a couple of months, and until then, there are... other ways to stay in contact.” He smirks as he stares out the windscreen, his eyes sparkling under the intermittent flash of the streetlights.

“That’s ominous.”

His brows pinch. “What is?”

You hold your hands up to sign quotations as you repeat his words back to him. “Other ways to stay in contact.”

He chuckles again as he turns the car onto a familiar road, and you realise that you’re only a few minutes from home.

“Well, you know what I mean.”

You frown, tipping your head quizzically. “No. What do you mean?”

He sighs and turns to look at you, as if needing confirmation that you really are confused. “I’m talking about phone sex, Sugar. Or video sex. Whatever floats your boat.”

He looks certifiably smug as he glances between you and the road, reading your incredibly unsubtle facial expressions as you process his words – that fucking nickname wedged between them.

“Oh,” is all you can manage, turning your gaze out the windscreen.

Your whole face feels hot and the butterflies in your stomach have turned into angry wasps. They’re buzzing and swirling, and threatening to push up the single breadstick that you ate back at the restaurant.

“Sorry,” he says, although he doesn’t look it. “Sometimes I forget how innocent you are.”

The buzzing stops and you rear back a little, your head turning slowly to look at him again. “I’m what?”

“Innocent.” He stops the car at the curb in front of your house. “Right?”

You roll your eyes and pop the car door open. “I might not be a deviant like you, Seresin, but I’m sure as hell no Virgin Mary.”

You push the door open and step out before slamming it shut. You know you shouldn’t be so upset simply for being called innocent, but coming from Jake, it feels different. It feels like he’s telling you that your too innocent and not sexy enough for him, even though you know he’d never see you that way regardless of your sexual experience.

“Wait a minute, Sugar. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You stop halfway across the foot path and turn on your heel, watching him walk around the front of the car. “You didn’t upset me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve just had a shit night.”

He regards you carefully and crosses his arms over his chest, biceps bulging against the short sleeves of his white cotton shirt. But he doesn’t speak, he just looks at you. The night is almost too quiet as you stare at each other, waiting for something to break the tension.

After an agonizing minute of silence, you give in. “Okay, what?”

“I just-” He shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“I know you’re stupid, but I’m too curious now. So, spill.”

He rubs a hand up his jaw as he takes half a step back and leans against the passenger’s side of the car. “Well... now I’m just wondering how not innocent you are.”

Your brows raise and your cheek twitches. “You want to talk about my sex life, Jake?”

A smirk ghosts over his lips. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Okay.” You prop a hand on each of your hips, trying to appear nonchalant despite the way your heart is rioting against your ribs. “What do you want to know?”

“You’ve had sex, right?”

You give him a deadpan look, utterly unimpressed.

He chuckles. “Alright, just checking. When did you lose it?”

“Eighteen,” you reply.

“Very respectable.” He nods slowly, obviously sifting through all the questions in his head. “When was the last time you had sex?”

“Last week.”

His brows shoot up toward his hairline. “So, you’re getting it regularly?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Whenever I want it, Cowboy.”

Something in his gaze shifts, and his eyes grow almost imperceptibly darker. “What’s your favourite position?”

You shrug one shoulder. “Depends on the day.”

“Least favourite position?”

“Sixty-nine in the backseat of a Volkswagen Golf in a Taco Bell parking lot.”

His eyes almost bug out of his head, and you can’t help the satisfied smirk that curls at the corner of your lips. You’re enjoying getting these reactions out of him. Never mind the fact that you can feel your pulse thrumming across every inch of your skin, which feels like it’s on fire.

He clears his throat and rolls his shoulders back. “Okay, what do you think about when you masturbate?”

You give him another unimpressed stare. “Whatever I feel like in the moment, Seresin. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get some secrets out of me.”

That cocky smile flashes across his face again. “They’re only secrets if you’re too scared to tell them.”

You take a step forward and cross your arms, mirroring his stance less than two feet in front of him. “Are we done yet?”

He shakes his head. “If you could have sex with anyone in the world, who you choose?”

Your stomach twists itself into another knot. “Pass.”

“You can’t pass.”

You drop your hands back to your hips and roll your eyes. “Alright then, George Clooney.”

His eyes narrow. “Liar.”

“Prove it.”

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, making it glisten in the dim glow of the streetlights, and only then do you realise that you’ve taken another step closer to him. You’re almost toe to toe.

“Show me how you get what you want.” His chest is rising and falling faster than usual, and you can feel his hot breath on the skin of your neck.

You swallow thickly. “Well, If I-”

“I said show me.” His voice is almost a growl, sending lightning bolts of arousal right to your core.

You take that last step closer, leaving only a couple of inches between your body and his. You hesitate for only a second before each of your hands come up to his crossed arms, wrapping around his wrists to guide his hands where you want them. You place one on your hip and the other just below your jaw, letting his thumb rest over your pulse point.

You’re not sure when you got so ballsy, but you try not to think too hard as you breathe in the intoxicating scent of the only man you’ve ever fantasised about.

You turn your face toward his hand and press a kiss to the heel of his palm, letting your eyelids flutter shut for only a moment. Then you lock eyes with him again as both of your hands move to the belt wrapped around his hips. You pull yourself toward him and align your body with his, letting your fingers hook into the waistband of his jeans.

His breath catches as you slide your hands outward, your nails scraping against the bare skin behind his jeans. When you reach his hips, you unhook your fingers and let your hands glide up underneath his shirt, over his ribs. He draws a sharp breath and his grip on your hip tightens, the hand on your neck squeezing gently.

“Do you always get what you want?” he whispers.

You nod slowly, scratching your nails gently down the sides of his torso. “Almost always.”

Then the obnoxious ring of his phone startles you both. Your heart practically leaps out of your chest as you jump back, detangling yourself from him as he scrambles for his back pocket. Heat flushes across your chest and crawls up your neck, making your whole face burn with embarrassment.

He glances at his phone screen and then up at you, his expression twisted into something you don’t recognise. “I’m so sorry, I have to-”

“No, no. It’s fine, go ahead.” You shake your head and force a smile on your lips. “Thanks for saving me tonight.”

You turn on your heel and march toward the house, determined to get inside before you either pass out or burst into tears. But once you slam the door, you can’t stop yourself from running into the front room and cracking the window, trying to hear who it was that interrupted you.

“No, Baby. I promise you, she’s like my little sister. I feel responsible for her, I just had to make sure she was okay.”

Then you burst into tears.

- Present -

“Hello?” Natasha pokes your shoulder. “Anyone home?”

You blink a couple of times before turning to look at her, realising the car is now parked in front of your house. “Shit, sorry. I was on another planet.”

“I could tell.”

You pop the door open. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime.” She waves a hand dismissively. “But hey, I’ve been meaning to ask, are you bringing a date to Yale’s wedding?”

“Shit, I totally forgot about that.”

“Yeah, me too. It's next weekend and I have this guy who I want to bring as a date, but I won’t ask him if you’re not bringing anyone. So?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll find someone. Or I will happily dance alone. Ask your guy.”

She gives you a small smirk and you can swear her cheeks flush with the faintest blush. “Okay.”

You turn and climb out of the car before shutting the door and ducking down to give her one last wave. She waves back and takes off, disappearing down the street in no time. Maybe speeding is a fighter pilot thing?

Once in the comfort of your room, sprawled across your bed, you pull your phone out and start scrolling through your contacts. You don’t really want to bring anyone to this wedding, but you can't deny Nat a date that she clearly wants, so you’re going to have to find someone to at least keep you company. You know Jake will have a date, and even though you’d be happy just hanging out with the rest of the squad, you’ll feel a little less pathetic bringing someone of your own.

You smooth your red dress in the mirror, hating how much it stands out against the cream backdrop of the bathroom you’re standing in. You’ve already texted Natasha at least a hundred times in the past week asking if the dress is too red or too bold, making sure there’s no rule against wearing red to someone’s wedding. It’s not that it doesn’t look good – because you know you look fucking good – you just don’t want to be that girl. You hadn’t even expected an invite to Logan’s wedding, so you certainly don’t want to be the random girl who stands out in all the photos.

The buzzing of your phone demands your attention, and you open it to see a text from Natasha telling you that she and her date have arrived. You give yourself one last stern look in the mirror before exiting the bathroom.

Your date, Cole, is waiting for you in the corridor, looking effortlessly handsome as he leans against the wall and gazes up at the high ceilings of the exquisitely designed building. He’s a friend from work who, according to another one of your colleagues, had been wanting to ask you out for a while, so you decided to beat him to it. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous – tall, broad shoulders, floppy brown hair, and silvery-blue eyes – and ex-navy, which means he already has something in common with your friends.

“Hey,” you say with a soft smile. “You ready to go to the circus?”

He chuckles and slips his hand into yours, as if it’s second nature. “You’re really starting to worry me. Are your friends that scary?”

“Not scary.” You shake your head as the two of you begin walking down the wide hall. “Maybe insane? Certifiable, even.”

Both the ceremony and the reception are taking place at the most beautiful seaside mansion you’ve ever seen. It has an old money charm to it with high ceilings and windows that stretch all the way up. There are intricate mouldings between the walls and ceilings, and decorative architraves around every doorway and opening. Everything down to the finishings and decor boasts wealth and elegance, and you’re scared to walk too closely to any of it for the fear of breaking something.

“Are the bride and groom drug dealers?” Cole asks.

You laugh softly. “They could be, but I’m pretty sure it's one of their families who owns this place. Or at least part of it.”

You continue down the hall, your heels clacking against the marble floor until you come to the huge arch that leads out to the courtyard. You descend the few concrete steps until you’re walking on fine granite, and then you follow the path through the perfectly manicured garden, weaving in between guests, until you reach the circular part of the long driveway where cars are stopping to deposit more wedding goers.

You spot Natasha easily, and you can already feel the blush rising in your cheeks as you approach her. “Nat, over here.”

She whips toward you and her jaw unhinges. “Holy shit, you look- Oh, my God, who is this?”

Cole chuckles and offers her his hand. “I’m Cole. I work with-”

“You are gorgeous.” She looks back at you. “Can we keep him, please?”

“Hi.” Bob appears beside Nat with a blush dusted across his nose and cheeks, looking downright adorable in his Full Dress. “She insisted we pre-drink,” he says with a soft chuckle.

Your brows pinch and your eyes dart between Natasha and Bob several times before realisation flashes like a lightbulb above your head. “Bob is your date?!”

Natasha smiles sheepishly and links her hand with Bob’s. “It’s only weird if you make it weird, so don’t make it weird and please don’t let the others make it weird.”

You stick your hand out with all your fingers curled in except your pinkie. “I promise I won’t let anyone make this weird. I think it’s adorable.”

She hooks her pinkie finger with yours and you both nod before separating. Then she turns her wide brown eyes back to Cole. “Shit, sorry. Cole this is Bob.”

The two men shake hands before you all decide to go and claim a seat for the ceremony. The backyard – if you can even call it that – stretches for a few thousand yards before dropping off a cliff all the way down to the ocean. The wedding arch is set up so that the guests are looking out at the horizon, but it’s far enough away from the edge that the trees and hedges lining the open space are blocking most of the salty ocean breeze.

As soon as you sit down, more guests start wandering over to find a seat. Bradley, Mickey, and Reuben arrive not long after – all looking very dapper in their Full Dress – and take a seat in the row in front of yours. You hear Mickey whisper something to Reuben about Natasha and Bob, and while you’re not exactly sure what he says, you still offer a whispered threat if they dare to tease either of their friends about being each other’s date.

“Where’s Hangman?” Bradley asks, turning to look at you as if you’d have the answer.

You shrug. “Don’t ask me.”

You turn around to see Logan and his groomsmen – including Javy – getting ready to walk down the aisle, and then you turn a little further to see Jake and his date practically fall out of a taxi and start jogging across the lawn. His hair is a little mussed and he’s still trying to pin medals to his chest.

“He’s here,” you mutter as you turn back to face the front.

The three boys in front of you turn their heads and start giggling like schoolkids.

“Be quiet,” Natasha hisses.

The chatter from the guests has almost completely died down, and you can now hear a soft melody playing from the speakers on either side of the wedding arch.

“Hey,” Jake says breathlessly, falling into the seat beside Bradley.

His date smiles and waves sheepishly before sitting beside him, and you recognise her from when Jake met her at The Hard Deck just over a week ago. The music gets a little louder and the celebrant clears his throat. All the whispering and murmuring stops and guests swivel in their seats to see up the aisle.

Jake turns and catches your eye, flashing that signature smirk and giving you a wink. You roll your eyes before turning with the rest of the crowd to watch Logan and his groomsmen start walking down the aisle.

The ceremony is sweet and simple, and Logan’s bride looks absolutely stunning as she glides down the aisle in her puffy white dress. You let yourself, just for a moment, imagine what it would be like to walk down the aisle and see Cole waiting in the arch. You know he isn’t in the navy anymore, but you imagine him waiting for you in Full Dress, how handsome he’d look in the white uniform with his medals pinned to his chest.

Warmth creeps into your cheeks at the thought, and you imagine reaching the end of the aisle where Cole is waiting. You would blush and avert your eyes as if you were some virginal bride, glancing down at the ground and taking his offered hand. But then when you look back up, it isn’t Cole. It’s Jake.

Even your imagination is a fucking traitor.

The heat in your cheeks crawls down your neck and flushes across your chest. You suddenly feel hot despite the cool breeze blowing off the ocean, and you have to take a deep breath to ease your aching lungs.

It isn’t long before the ceremony is over and the celebrant announces that cocktail hour will be held in the courtyard before the reception commences in the grand hall. The bridal party quickly depart for photos, and guests start slowly rising from their chairs and walking back toward the manor.

“I hope there’s food, I’m starving,” Mickey says.

Reuben chuckles. “You know it’s all going to be fancy stuff like caviar and quail eggs?”

Mickey’s face screws up in disgust. “Wait, like, no normal food at all?”

“You might be able to ask for the kids’ menu,” Bradley says with a cheeky grin.

You all laugh as Mickey swats a hand at Bradley, which he dodges easily.

The cocktail hour is set up in the perfectly manicured garden at the back of the manor, with high tables dressed in white cloth and waiters circling with trays of champagne and canapes. You claim one of the high tables before Mickey and Reuben excuse themselves to go harass one of the waiters for something other than champagne.

“I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in you, Hangman.” Nat rests her purse on the tabletop and glares across it at Jake. “Although, I’m not surprised.”

You glance at him standing beside you, the medals on his jacket pinned crookedly and his collar sticking up at the back. You sigh and grab his shoulders, turning him to face you. “I know your mother raised you better than this, Seresin,” you say as you start unpinning the medals. “Being late to a wedding? She’d have your ass.”

He grins at you as you fuss over him, pinning his medals on properly, fixing his collar, and even smoothing down the pieces of hair that are poking out of place. He particularly enjoys the way you have to stretch onto your toes to reach the back of his head.

“What are you going to do, Sugar? Call her and tell her?”

You pull back and cross your arms. “I might.”

He hesitates, wide green eyes assessing you carefully as he tries to figure out if you’re being serious or not. You know you’re not actually going to dob him in to his mother, even though it would be hilarious, but you’re not about to let him call your bluff. So you stare back at him, your eyes narrowed and the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

You don’t even realise that everyone is staring at the two of you while you stare at each other until someone clears their throat. It’s the girl standing on the other side of Jake; his date.

“Um, I’m sorry,” she says with a small, awkward laugh. “It’s actually my fault that we were late.”

“Oh, right.” Jake turns and wraps an arm around her, pulling her into his side and forcing you to step back. “This is Shelley. I think some of you met her at The Hard Deck a couple of weeks ago.”

You turn and quickly slip your hand into Cole’s, giving him a soft smile as Jake points and names the people standing around the table.

“That’s right,” Shelley says, looking straight at you. “You’re Jake’s little sister.”

Cole frowns. “You have a brother?”

Jake’s eyes widen, a silent plea for you to keep up the charade.

You sigh softly before plastering on a smile. “Yep. This is my brother.” The words taste sour in your mouth, like stomach bile rising up right before you’re about to vomit. “Jake, this is Cole.”

Cole offers his hand to Jake, which Jake takes and squeezes the ever-loving shit out of. You can see how strong his grip is by the way his knuckles turn white and Cole winces.

“So, Cole,” Jake says, his lips curled into a challenging smirk. “What do you do for a living?”

You glare at him, trying to get his attention so you can give him your best fuck off scowl, but his gaze is laser-focused on your date.

“We work together, actually,” Cole replies, gesturing to you. “But I used to be in the navy.”

“Oh, really? What did you get discharged for?”

“Jake,” you mutter. “Is that really any of your business?”

He chuckles and shrugs, his eyes flitting toward you. “What? I’m just making conversation.”

“It’s alright,” Cole says, though the tone of his voice makes you think otherwise. “I was medically discharged.”

Jake’s eyes are almost feline as they slide back toward Cole. “What for?”

“Jake,” you hiss.

“I hurt my back,” Cole replies. “Pretty badly, actually. I’m still in physical therapy for it.”

Jake’s smirk stretches into a Cheshire Cat grin as he turns back to you. “Well, I sure hope that doesn’t get in the way of you two having a little fun later tonight.”

Your eyes go wide and your jaw unhinges. Bradley and Bob both choke on their breath and cough to cover their laughter, while Natasha giggles shamelessly into the palm of her hand.

You turn to Cole, who’s cheeks are bright red, and give him your most apologetic smile. “Why don’t you go get us some drinks while I verbally abuse my brother?”

He nods once and squeezes your hand before letting go and practically running away from the table.

“Hey Shelley,” Natasha pipes up, “would you come with me to find the bathrooms?”

Bradley clears his throat. “I’m going to go find Payback and Fanboy.”

“I’ll help you,” Bob says.

The two boys hurry off in one direction while Natasha grabs Shelley’s hand and drags her toward the concrete steps that lead inside the manor.

You turn to Jake. “What the fuck?”

He rears back a little. “What?”

“Why were you so rude to him?”

“I didn’t think I was being-”

“Jake,” you warn, taking half a step toward him. “You know exactly what you were doing.”

He rolls his eyes as if you’re being dramatic. “I’m just making sure he’s a good guy. I’ve never met anyone you’ve dated before.”

“So?” You throw your hands up. “You had no right to interrogate him like you did.”

Jake frowns, his head tipping slightly as he gets lost in his own thoughts, clearly not listening what you’re saying. “Why haven’t I met anyone you’ve dated before?”

“Because I don’t date much, but that’s beside the point.” You scowl up at him, watching his green eyes swirl with something akin to curiosity. “I am perfectly polite to your date, and you’re going to be the same to mine. Got it?"

He scoffs. “Yeah, you just grunt at my date like you’ve lost the ability to speak.”

“I do not.”

He chuckles humourlessly. “Yes, you do. In fact, you barely speak to any of the girls I date.”

You roll your eyes. “Can you really blame me for not bothering to get to know them? You’re just going to replace this one with a new one in a week or two.”

“Ouch.” He puts a hand on his chest, right over the perfectly pinned medals. “And I suppose Mr Ex-Navy is more than just a last-ditch wedding date?”

“He could be.”

“Really?” He raises his brows. “Are you going to marry the man with the bad back who can’t even fuck properly?”

Anger sizzles through your veins, lighting every inch of your skin on fire. “Why do you even fucking care?!"

“Because I care about you.” His voice is a whispered shout, low but assertive. “And you can do better than this guy.”

You take a deep breath to try and settle your temper, not wanting to cause a scene. “This guy is great, and I like him, so pull your shit together and start acting like the honourable man you’re supposed to be. Because you know what, Seresin? I’m not your little sister, and I’m not your responsibility, so who I date is none of your business.”

His mouth pops open but no words come out. His eyes are swimming with an emotion you don’t recognise as they study you, the furious expression on your face glaring up at him from beneath furrowed brows.

You’re not sure if he recognises his own words from that night, but either way, you can safely say that he has been adequately chastised. You take another deep breath and step back, turning toward your date who is approaching the table with a flute of champagne in each hand.

- Jake -

The reception is in full swing and entrees have been served, but the chicken sitting in front of Jake remains untouched. He’s been glaring through the flowery centrepiece in the middle of the table for almost fifteen minutes now, while everyone around him chats and eats happily. To anyone else, it might seem like the man hates orchids, but as Javy descends from the bridal table and sees his best friend plotting murder, he knows that it isn’t the flowers that have offended Jake Seresin. It’s the man on the other side of them.

He crouches behind Jake’s chair and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get the body bag if you pick the murder weapon.”

Jake startles and whips around, his scowl breaking into a smile when he sees his best friend. “Hey, man. You looked good up there.”

“I know,” Javy chuckles. “Want to get a drink?”

Jake glances at his date, who is currently chatting with Mickey about which entree meal is better, before turning back to Javy and nodding. He scoots his chair back and stands up, following his friend to the bar at the back of the hall. Once they order their drinks, they step to the side and wait for the bartender to pour them.

“So,” Javy says, “what did I miss?”

Jake glances back at the table, his eyes narrowing on you and your date. “Well, I was a little late and got scolded for it.”

Javy chuckles. “Saw that.”

“Natasha and Bob came together, which isn’t surprising, but still gross.”

“I think it’s nice.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “You would.”

When he glances back at the table, you’ve got your hand wrapped around Cole’s bicep, leaning into him and laughing like he’s the funniest man in the world. Jake hates it. He has no idea why, but he fucking hates it. He hates the way you look at your date and he hates the way the man is looking back at you. He wants to wrap you in his jacket – because that dress is criminal – and stuff you into a taxi to be on your way home.

“Anything else?” Javy asks.

The bartender places their drinks in front of them, and they both mutter a thank you before taking a glass each and walking toward one of the high tables nearby.

“Not really.”

“You sure?” Javy presses, his brows raised in question. “Nothing about Cole, or...?”

Jake frowns. “You know him?”

“Yeah, I had lunch with them both last week.”

“What the fuck?” Jake looks utterly offended.

Javy chuckles again. “I ran into them while they were suit shopping, so we stopped for lunch. He’s actually a really nice guy. It’s a shame about his injury.”

Jake scoffs. “Yeah, I bet it would suck to not be able to fuck properly.”

Javy almost spits his mouthful of whiskey and coke across the table, but he manages to swallow most of it and cough on the rest. “What the fuck, man?”

Jake shrugs. “What?”

“Why do you care about the man’s bedroom ability?”

Heat crawls into Jake’s cheeks, so he hides his face behind a generous sip of his drink. “I don’t. I mean, I’m just looking out for-”

“The girl you call your sister?” Javy interrupts. “Because I can tell you right now, no brother would be concerned about how well their sister is getting dicked down.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t actually related.”

“I know, it would be fucking gross if you were,” Javy says. He watches Jake from the corner of his eye as he takes another sip of his drink, waiting for the words to hit and wondering if his friend will figure out the underlying suggestion.

It takes almost a full minute for Jake to frown and tip his head curiously. “Why would it be gross?”

Javy sighs and shakes his head. “Never mind. Come on, you better get back to your date.”

The two men walk back toward Table 7, and Jake can’t help but glare at Cole the whole way there. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t stand the way the man’s hand is hidden beneath the table but clearly on your thigh. Like he’s being sneaky or something. Jake has s brief thought about breaking the man’s hand as he sits back down at the table, and it makes him smile.

“Hey, Baby,” Shelley coos, leaning over and sliding her hand up his thigh.

His smile drops and he catches her hand before it can get too high.

She pouts and bats her lashes. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

Jake puts his drink down and uses both hands to push her hand away from his crotch. “We’re sitting at a table with my friends. It’s disrespectful.”

“Oh.” She pulls back completely, an embarrassed blush crawling up her neck.

Jake should feel bad for being so harsh, he knows that, but he can’t find the energy to care. He’s too busy peering through the gaps in the orchid arrangement, glaring at the man sitting beside you.

After dinner, Logan and his wife have their first dance, but Jake spends most of it watching Cole’s hand run up and down your arm. When the slow music morphs into dance music, the bridal party join the dancefloor and guests slowly start to leave their seats.

Jake wants to talk to you and apologise for being rude, but he also wants to tell you that your date sucks and you deserve better. He just can’t figure out why your date sucks, and he knows he needs a valid reason before he corners you.

Shelley asks him to dance twice before giving up and joining Mickey and Reuben on the dancefloor, but it isn’t long before the MC announces that it's time to cut the cake. Jake doesn’t miss the way your eyes sparkle with tears when Logan’s wife smushes cake into his face, and he wonders if people usually cry at the cake cutting.

After the cake, Javy calls everyone up to the bar for a round of shots, which quickly turns into a second round of shots when Logan and his wife join in. Then everyone makes their way back to the dancefloor to watch Mickey pull out some very embarrassing dance moves. Jake joins in and even, for a brief moment, forgets about the man he’s been glaring daggers at all evening, but then he catches you leaving the dancefloor out of the corner of his eye.

You drag Cole toward the bar and order another drink. Jake stops watching Reuben pretend he can breakdance and steps out of the dance circle that’s happening in the middle of the floor. He cranes his neck so he can still see you with Cole, standing at the back of the hall beside one of the high tables.

You’re standing right up against the man, your hands guiding his hands to where you want them on your body. Jake’s breath catches in his throat, and his heart starts to race. He recognises this.

He stops moving to the beat of the music, he stops pretending like he’s enjoying the dancing, and he walks away from the dancefloor entirely. His eyes are trained on you, watching you lean into Cole’s hand that is cradling your jaw. He knows what you’re doing and it’s making him sick.

Before he can stop himself, he’s weaving in between tables. His heart feels like it’s in his throat, thumping out of rhythm and making it difficult for him to catch his breath. But he doesn’t care. All he cares about is getting to you.

- You -

Cole’s eyes are like molten silver, and you have to remind yourself that silver is a precious metal. It doesn’t matter that you like gems better, green gems like jade and malachite. They’re too expensive to dream about; you need to stop dreaming about green gems.

Though it’s a bit hard when those green gems won’t stop fucking staring at you.

You hesitate as you lean toward Cole, your fingers hooked behind the belt that’s wrapped around his hips. He’s so pretty, you can’t deny that, and you do want to kiss him, but it feels weird knowing Jake is in the same room right now. Knowing that all your friends could be watching as you close the gap between your lips and-

“What are you doing?”

You startle and pull back, your eyes widening as warmth spreads across your chest and crawls up your neck. “What the fuck?”

Jake is standing on the other side of the high table. His cheeks are flushed and his arms are crossed, he looks angry but... confused.

“Oh, hey,” Cole mutters, defeat saturating his tone. He’d have to be stupid not to have noticed the way Jake’s been glaring at him all night.

You cross your arms and mirror his stance. “Jake, what are you doing?”

“Just checking on my baby sister.”

You roll your eyes. “Please, would you just-”

“Baby, where’d you go?” Shelley’s hot pink fingernails slide over Jake’s shoulder as she appears at his side. “You missed me in the dance circle.”

A smirk ghosts across your lips. “Yeah, Baby, how could you miss that?”

Jake’s stare is unwavering, he doesn’t even flinch at the exaggerated pet name.

Cole sighs. “Look, man, I wasn’t trying to do anything weird, I just wanted to kiss her.”

“Do you seriously have a problem with that?” you ask.

Jake’s eyes narrow on Cole. “Yes.”

“What the fuck for?” You uncross your arms and throw your hands up. “You’re not actually my brother, Jake. Why do you give a shit about this?”

Cole turns to you. “He’s not your brother?”

Shelley gasps. “Oh, my God. She’s not your- Wait.” She steps away from Jake and looks at you, then back at him with wide eyes. “You’re, like... in love with her, aren’t you? That’s why you’ve been acting fucking weird all night.”

Cole steps away from you. “What the fuck is going on?”

Jake is pale – like, concerningly pale – and you can’t see his chest or shoulders moving, so you’re not even sure if he’s breathing. His glare isn’t menacing anymore, it’s blank. Completely blank.

“I think he’s broken,” you whisper, more to yourself than anyone else. You turn to Cole. “I’m sorry I lied to you, but it’s a long story. I’m, like, one-hundred percent sure that he’s not in love with me, but I do think he’s having some sort of stroke, so I’m going to take him outside for a minute. Is that okay?”

Cole nods, although he doesn’t seem convinced. But you don’t have time to reassure him right now, because you’re pretty sure Jake is either about to pass out or throw up.

You don’t even look at Shelley as you grab Jake’s arm and start dragging him toward the exit doors. His steps are slow but steady, and he stares at you with a weird, bewildered expression the whole way. You lead him through the halls of the manor and down the concrete steps into the courtyard. There are a few people scattered about, stealing a moment to themselves, but you weave through the garden until you find a swinging seat away from anyone else.

“Sit here.” You push him toward the chair. “Do you need some water?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you going to pass out?”

He shakes his head again.

“Okay, I’m going to need to hear some actual words now, Hangman.” You crouch in front of him, putting a hand on either one of his knees. “You’re starting to worry me.”

His eyes meet yours. “You never call me Hangman.”

“Sorry, do you prefer Bagman?”

He frowns, but it isn’t dark or serious because you can see his lips fighting a smirk. “It’s Jake to you, or Seresin.”

You roll your eyes and stand up straight, propping a hand on each hip. “Okay, Seresin, now that you can talk are you going to tell me what the fuck just happened?”

He groans and drops his head into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. You wait for him to say something, watching his shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths, but he refuses speak.

You sigh and sit down beside him, feeling the chair rock as you do. “I’m not mad, Jake, just a little frustrated. I know that you see me as a little sister, but-”

He snorts. “You are not my little sister.”

“I know that.” You bump your shoulder against his. “Do you know that? Because the way you were acting tonight was ridiculous. I don’t care how responsible you feel for me, I’m still an adult who can do whatever and whoever she pleases.”

He groans again and looks up, dragging his hands down his face. “Please don’t say that.”

Your brows pinch. “Say what?”

“That you can do whoever you want.”

You roll your eyes again. “I’m no Virgin Mary, Jake. You can’t just pretend-”

“I know.” He sits up straighter and looks right at you, pinning you with those sparkling jade eyes. “I remember.”

Your heart starts thumping faster. “Remember what?”

“That night.”

The box you shoved into the deepest, darkest corner of your heart starts to tremble. The chains rattle and the locks clang as the box shakes, the tremors increasing with every laboured breath you draw into your aching lungs.

“Jake,” you whisper. “I-”

“I saw you with him and I just”– he runs a hand through his hair –“I couldn’t fucking stand it. I knew what you were doing and I knew what you wanted, but I just couldn’t let you do it.”

Your eyes sting but you quickly blink back the moisture welling in them. You want to ask him what the fuck he means, why it matters this much to him, and why he nearly passed out when Shelley said what she said. But the connection between your brain and mouth is paralysed.

“All night I couldn’t stand the sight of you with him, but I couldn’t stop staring. Even Javy-” He pauses and rears back a little, averting his eyes as he searches back through his memories of the night. “Holy shit.”

You tip your head quizzically, your brows furrowed as you work to keep your emotions at bay. “What?”

“Even Javy knows that I’m in love with you.”

The box in your heart doesn’t just break open, it fucking shatters.

His eyes find yours again and he brings one hand up to your jaw, his thumb resting over your pulse point. His other hand moves to your opposite hip, forcing him to lean his body closer to yours and wrap you in his intoxicating scent. You watch as his tongue darts across his bottom lip, and then he’s kissing you.

It isn’t soft. It’s hungry, years of tension crashing into a single moment. His lips claim yours like he’s been holding back forever and never even realised it. You kiss him back hard, fingers twisting in the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, needing more. His hand slides to the back of your neck, anchoring you, deepening the kiss until your thoughts are nothing but heat and the way his mouth moves against yours.

The sound of fireworks – literal fireworks – is the only thing that forces you apart. Startling you both as they soar into the sky and burst against the navy velvet draped over this side of the earth.

You look up, seeing your breath in puffs of white against the dark night. “Are Yale’s family drug dealers?”

Jake chuckles and closes his eyes. “I just kissed you for the first time, and that’s what you have to say?”

“Sorry,” you giggle, dropping your gaze back to him and drawing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I can’t believe I never realised it,” he mutters.

You shrug one shoulder. “To be fair, I was one-hundred percent sure you didn’t feel the same about five minutes ago.”

His brows pinch. “Feel the same?”

“Yes.” You hold his face between your hands, squishing his cheeks a little. “I’ve been in love with you for a very long time, Jake Seresin.”

He grins, which makes you giggle because his cheeks are now extra squished. “Good. Because I’m going to be in love with you forever.”

END.

#jake seresin #glen powell #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #glen powell x reader #imagine #one shot #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #top gun #top gun maverick #hangman #bradley bradshaw #rooster

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yanderenightmare · 11 months ago

Text

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, bad politics, chemically induced heat? institutionalized reader, doctors, wack rehabilitation program, ish brainwashing

fem reader

You’d been difficult to tame. Or, he just didn’t have the time to do it properly—too busy at work and too tired when coming home. He’d wanted a sweet Omega, one who did house chores when he was away and had dinner ready for him when he got off.

You’d looked real sweet at the auction—a perfectly beautiful Omega. You weren’t cheap either—everyone had made their bids, but he’d been the one to walk away with the prize in the end. He can’t say he regrets it—he still has a fondness for you even though you’re not what he’d thought he’d purchased.

You just need some behavioral correcting. And so, he put you in an Omega institution.

It had been recommended to him. It’s not so uncommon, he later found out while reading up on the place. Auctioned Omegas tend to end up a little rough around the edges—here, at the institution, they’ll smooth those edges right out.

Sadly, there’s been a rise in unstable Omegas as of late—he reads on their website. It’s a misguided revolution taking place in several auction homes that’s to blame for it—circling modern ideas of liberation, equality, andindependence. It all stems from a place of fear, the website explains in detail—Omegas seek to stand on their own in the world. Cooped up in auction homes, they fear they’ll never see the outside without a mate—and as the years dwindle on and their prospects become slimmer, they start fantasizing about doing it on their own.

He feels sorry for you while reading it. Your attitude makes more sense now, knowing you’ve been fed a bunch of deluded nonsense. He can’t blame you for getting swept up in it—you’re a little younger than him, after all. But the silly idea of a lone Omega isn’t just laughable but dangerous. It was best of him to make sure any such notions were quashed—for your own good—before you end up doing something you might regret.

And it seemed this place was the place to do it. In fact, many of his fellow Alphas had done the same, and they’d all sung this particular institution’s praises.

Oh, but it’s been hard. You wouldn’t talk to him much or even keep him in good company at home, but still, he misses your presence. The house seems so empty without your little everyday spats to keep him on his toes.

You’ve been away for a whole month now, and he hasn’t even been allowed to visit, not once. It would ruin the process, he was told. But he’s been assured that the caretakers there have been making great progress with you. He should be able to come pick you up as soon as the start of next week.

He remembers having been skeptical about leaving you here as he walks to announce himself at the help desk. The facility is pristine and sterile—very impersonal, just like any other hospital. He wonders if you’ve been scared. After all, it’s most likely your skittish nature that makes you so hostile, joined with misgivings making you confused. It can’t be easy. He hopes the doctors here have helped you sort things out. Maybe you won’t be so frustrated all the time.

He was led to a private room where he could complete some paperwork for your release while waiting for your discharge. He made quick work of it. A door opens, and your doctor comes through, and then, following right behind him, there’s you—his pretty little Omega.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you quite so subdued—not even when you’d been caged at the auction, there’d still been some fight to your spirit. Now, not so much—taking quiet and careful steps with your head hung, looking at your slipper-clad feet.

You pick your face up when you recognize the scent, and then you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost. Wide-eyed and lock-jawed—your breathing picks up rapidly, and his name drops from your lips like a pained whimper, followed by a sudden burst of tears and a rush toward him. “You came back—”

You’re on him before he has the time to blink—pressed against him tightly, skin-to-skin and heart-to-heart, with your face buried in the grove of his neck. Your claws are slightly drawn, but in no effort to hurt him—rather, to cling to him. It’s not any normal hug—not that you’d ever given him one before—but even so, you’re swaddledaround his neck with your legs crossed at his back.

He’s taken aback by the behavior—it isn’t like you at all. He remembers your aversion to his touch, how you’d regard him like a plague, snarling each time he’d get too close. This was beyond new.

But you leave him no opening to comment either, too busy rambling in meek little whispers pressed into his skin, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—I knew you’d come back—knew you hadn’t forgotten about me. I’m sorry I was being difficult, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’ve forgiven me, right? You’ll take me home now, right? Please—”

He’d never been in a position to soothe you before—you’d never wanted it. He doesn’t know what else to do but smooth a hand over your hunched and shuddering back, shushing you like he’d seen mothers do with their sobbing children. You didn’t look much different right now.

“Yeah… we’re going home,” he assures you.

You hug him a little tighter as a sob wreaks through you.

This isn’t exactly what he prepared himself for. He thought you’d be... well, he doesn’t really know... nicer?Perhaps. Agreeable. Not so violent. But not this—this broken little ball of shivering sniffles holding onto him as if the world was about to end.

He swallows thickly, then looks at your doctor—he doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, he seems utterly unfazed.

It makes him wonder, a little warily, “What have you done with her?”

The doctor seems more than happy to explain—it’s only customary, after all. He’d paid a lot to have you rehabilitated here.

“Each omega requires special treatment suited to them,” the doctor explains. “Yours was particularly unruly.”

You flinch. He feels your claws dig deeper, but they’re too blunt to draw blood and too weak to hurt anyway. But even so, your sentiments are more than clear—you fear this doctor with your entire being.

“We’ve found that in the case of hostile Omegas, the most effective way to correct their behavior is to keep them isolated and let their own instincts remind them of what they need,” the doctor continues. “Of course, we’ve taken protective measures to ensure she wouldn’t harm herself in said isolation and have fed her accordingly at scheduled times every day.” He smiles. “We can assure you she’s been perfectly safe in the pillow room.”

He lifts the silver suitcase he’d been holding, props it up, and pops the lid, revealing a row of ten syringes—a hot pink fluid within.

“This is our recommended medicine.”

You shudder even more, unrelenting in your grip around him—hanging on so tightly as if you fear someone would come and pry you off him at any moment.

“Give one to her if and when she acts up. More instructions come with the case—please read through them carefully.”

He eyes the syringes with furrowed brows, picking one up to inspect it further. They don’t look like anything he’s read about in the brochure or on the website—perhaps a brand new method for treating Omegas? This is a cutting-edge institution, after all.

He can’t guess what they must do to make you cower like that. The spit-spire he left here a month ago wouldn’t cry over a tiny needle.

“What are they?” he asks.

The doctor’s smile stretches. “Nothing dangerous. All natural hormone components.”

He’s not sure what that entails, and so he quirks a brow while laying the syringe back in its designated mold. “And what does that mean?”

The doctor clasps the case shut and hands it over to him while explaining plainly, “They induce heat.”

He accepts the case before his ears have the chance to draw back at his words. Now that explains your sudden clinginess—why you’re so frigid.

The doctor adds, “Poor thing’s spent quite a few alone in the pillow room, so I’m sure she’ll be grateful to finally be by her mate’s side again.”

He’s speechless.

Spending heat alone, without any relief, is a form nothing short of torture. If he’d known that was what they were doing to you, he wouldn’t have sent you here in the first place. He very nearly chews the doctor out for using such barbaric methods but thinks better of it. If anything were to be done, it would be through a well-worded and filed complaint and a vow to never do business with them ever again.

Though, coming home with you by his side, still clinging to him… he can’t argue with the results.

So he doesn’t complain. He just enjoys your new and improved wellness and promises never to use those injections on you himself. Yes, they’d forego their expiration date soon enough, dusting away in the back of his closet. He’d never ever put you through something so horrid. That’s his pledge as your mate.

Oh, but then... the honeymoon phase dissolves. And you return to your old habits of teeth and claws.

It’s never-ending barking with you all over again—you want to leave, you want to be alone, you don’t want him to touch you, you blame him for what you went through at the institution, you hate him for it, and you’ll never ever forgive him.

He doesn’t want to—he swears while holding the syringe to your thigh where he’s strapped you down in bed with ropes and knots—he doesn’t want to, he really doesn’t, but you leave him no choice when you act like a wild animal.

The first time is always the hardest. But he doesn’t leave you alone in a room like they did at the institution—no, he helps you through it. It’s not torture this way. It’s just… well, what can he say? It’s just a little reminder to get you back on your good behavior.

You would rather stay here than get sent back to the pillow room, right?

It’s all too easy the second time around even though it shouldn’t have been. It was only a day of small uproars, nothing all that bad—refusing to greet him at the door, to make dinner, to fix his plate, to wash dishes, to come to bed. He’d allowed you days like that in the past, but this time, he’d felt himself gravitate towards his so-called last resort once again.

Still, he’d felt a little guilty about it.

It would be easier to refrain if it didn’t work like a charm.

Now, he goes and finds the briefcase at the drop of a hat. Say something snarky or look at him funny. Give him any opportunity, and he’ll abuse it—even things you don’t even mean to do, like burning the food, shrinking his clothes in the wash, or forgetting to make the bed in the morning. He’s on you with the syringe deep in your flesh before you can even mouth the words “I’m sorry—”

You’re limp and sweat-drenched after a few hours. He spoons you as the spasms continuously ricochet through you—his spent leaking down your thighs. Even after several rounds, the hormones are still brewing up a bad storm within your gut, thundering in your heart as its lightning zips along your limbs. Your head is a rainy cloud—heavy and full yet soft like cotton.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—it was an accident—” you mumble between labored breaths, not entirely sure what error you’d made this time, shivering against his warm chest as he cups your breast in one big hand and your swollen cunt in the other.

“I know, I know it was, baby,” he coos. “But you need to be more mindful—can’t be making so many mistakes all the time.” His lips brush your skin as he purrs, placing small pecks against your cheek and neck. “How can I trust you with my pups if you’re gonna be such a scatterbrain, hm?”

The mention of pups makes something roar more ferociously in your underbelly, and you whimper meekly in return. “I’m sorry—I’ll do better.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll get there, sweetie.”

The storm within crackles, rumbling with a deepening hunger. Even though you feel battle-worn and ever ready for the sweet escape of sleep, there’s something even needier and heedless that makes your body feel all but set ablaze.

You’ve cum so many times already, but it’s still not enough—it’s never enough. It takes everything in you to make sense of his words—to act civil even when all you want is to jump his bones—make him fuck you until your fever breaks, then allow you rest.

But act in any way out of turn, and he’ll only drag this out. Be sweet, you remind yourself—sugar, syrup, honeycomb—sweet and soft like velvet—no teeth or claws or growling. No matter what, don’t let the animal out of the cage.

“No matter how many lessons it’ll take…” he murmurs. “I’m here to help.”

“Thank you—” you wince while rubbing your thighs together—grinding against his hand in desperation. “Can you… can we—”

He chuckles fondly, feeling you rub your ass back against his crotch wantingly. “Oh? Another round so soon?”

You bite your lip at his teasing. Far beyond proud to not be begging, “Yes, please—pretty, pretty please—”

The sweet warble in your voice is so pitiful and cute—he can’t help the smile it brings him. “Alright, honey,” he hums while shifting, getting up with a hearty sigh, then leaning over you to give your pleading little pout a kiss. He feeds you his next words with a grin on his face, “Let’s see about that needy pussy of yours.”

He spreads and shimmies himself between your aching thighs, nice and snug against the weeping little thing between them—looking down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smug smile that makes you feel like the most hopeless little Omega in the world.

He places another kiss upon your forehead—dwarfing your hand in his big one, braiding your fingers together while the other carries his meaty cock, holding it steady up to your fluttering and glossy slit.

The size never fails to make you squirm as you look down at it—wondering why you crave it so badly when it only serves to make your body twist and scream from the stretch it gives you.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he soothes the tiny cry that cracks from your throat once he starts easing the length inside the snug comforts of your walls. “Your Alpha’s here to make it all better.”

♡ BNHA – old man Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Kusakabe ♡ HQ – Daichi, Ushijima ♡ AOT – Erwin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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cheers-to-you-th · 3 months ago

Text

Even Dumbasses Deserve Love

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x reader

Genre: Fluff, f2l, angst if you squint, smut !MDNI!

Warnings: Jeonghan being an idiot, oral (f receiving), dry humping, unprotected sex (don't do it yall), multiple orgasms, let me know if I missed anything

Summary: Yoon Jeonghan, your beautiful, wonderful, amazing, dumb-ass of a best friend who somehow doesn't see how hopelessly in love with him you are.

Until he does.

Banner by @orngejuic Beta Readers: @gyubakeries @sanaxo-o @mylovesstuffs ily guys <3

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows @cynthbee

Jeonghan prides himself in being two steps ahead of everyone. It’s just how he is—how he operates. He reads people easily, anticipates what they’ll do before they can even think it themselves. It’s why he always wins petty bets, why he always manages to dodge responsibility, why he can talk his way out of anything with nothing more than a lazy smile. He sees the signs before they become obvious, notices the smallest shifts in expression, the tiniest changes in behavior.

That’s why, after knowing you for years, Jeonghan finds himself baffled. The first time he notices something is when you sit in your normal seat next to him before your lecture starts, sliding a coffee in front of him. It’s something you do so often that it barely registers—until Seokmin starts to complain.

“Where’s mine?” Seokmin whines, dramatically slumping against the table. “Why does Jeonghan always get special treatment? I like coffee too, you know.”

You scoff, sipping from your own cup without a second thought. “You have two legs, Kyeom, use them.”

Seokmin pouts, muttering something about Jeonghan’s legs and injustice, but Jeonghan barely hears him. Because for the first time, he’s thinking about what Seokmin had said. You always bring him coffee. Always. Even when you’re running late, even when you don’t get one for yourself. Even when you grumble about how he doesn’t deserve it.

He lifts the cup, staring at the little details he’s never bothered to notice before. The way his name is scrawled across the side in your handwriting instead of the barista’s. The way you always get it exactly how he likes—two sugars, just enough milk to take the edge off the bitterness. The way you don’t even wait for a thank you.

Like it’s second nature. Like it’s just… what you do.

And now, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He starts noticing other things during the lecture.

How you always roll your eyes when he leans against you, but never actually push him away. How you scold him for doodling on the margins of your notebook, but still let him get away with it every time. How you look at him when you think he isn’t paying attention.

It makes something shift in his brain—tilting, twisting, catching on a thought he’s somehow never had before.

And maybe that should be the end of it.

But it isn’t.

Not yet.

Because a week later, it happens again.

It’s late—too late for you to be waiting around for him, but you do anyway. The library is nearly empty, the last stragglers packing up as Jeonghan stretches his arms over his head with a groan.

“Finally done?” you ask, voice amused as you glance up from your phone. You’re already leaning against the table, your bag slung over your shoulder, like you’ve been waiting for him this whole time.

Because you have.

Jeonghan blinks. He hadn’t asked you to. Hadn’t even considered it. He just assumed you’d gone home when you finished hours ago. But you didn’t—you stayed.

“Why are you still here?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. “I thought you said you were leaving at nine.”

You shrug. “Changed my mind.”

Changed your mind.

Jeonghan frowns but doesn’t push further. Because now, he’s thinking about it again.

About the way you always are there whenever he needs you, about how you never actually leave until he does. About how, even when you complain about him, you’re still here.

Always here, waiting for him.

His stomach twists with something unfamiliar. Something that feels a little too warm, a little too close to something he isn’t ready to name. He follows you into the cold night air, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His thoughts are too loud, too disorganized, for him to focus.

And when you shiver beside him, he doesn’t even think—he just shrugs off his hoodie and tugs it over your head before you can protest.

You freeze, blinking up at him. “What—”

“Just wear it,” Jeonghan mutters, looking away.

And maybe, if he let himself think too hard about why he did that—why the sight of you in his hoodie makes something tighten in his chest—he’d realize he’s in way more trouble than he thought.

The next time, it’s at a party.

Jeonghan isn’t even sure why he came—probably because Mingyu wouldn’t stop nagging him about needing to ‘go out and touch grass,’ whatever that means. The music is loud, the room packed with people, and Jeonghan, as usual, is lounging in the corner with a drink in hand, thoroughly entertained by the mess unfolding around him.

Then he sees you.

You’re talking to someone—some guy he doesn’t recognize, who’s standing a little too close, leaning in a little too much. You don’t seem bothered at a glance, but Jeonghan notices the way your fingers tighten around your cup, the slight shift in your stance. It’s subtle, something no one else would catch. But he does. He sees the tightness in your smile and the way you recoil when the man touches your arm.

Before Jeonghan can think twice, he’s already moving.

He slides up next to you easily, arm slinging around your shoulders like it belongs there, like it’s second nature. “There you are,” he drawls, flashing his most infuriating smile as he pointedly ignores the guy in front of you. “Been looking for you everywhere.”

You blink up at him, startled for only a second before you relax against him, leaning into his hold like it’s instinct.

The guy shifts awkwardly. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were—”

Jeonghan tilts his head, still smiling. He doesn’t say anything, just lets the weight of unspoken words hang in the air until the guy gets the message and quickly excuses himself.

Once he’s gone, Jeonghan glances down at you, raising a brow. “You okay?”

You let out a breath, rolling your eyes. “I was handling it.”

“I know.” He shrugs, arm still around you, still holding you close. “Felt like bothering you anyway.”

You huff, but you don’t pull away.

And then it hits him again.

The way you always let him do this—let him close, let him linger. The way you lean into him, like you belong there. The way it feels so natural that he doesn’t realize he's still holding onto you until his fingers tighten slightly on your shoulder.

Something warm twists in his chest.

He should let go. He should step back.

But he doesn't.

Another day, it’s at lunch.

Jeonghan doesn’t think much when you slide into the seat across from him, tray in hand, like you always do. He barely glances up from his phone as you start picking at your food, the conversation around you blending into background noise.

Then you do something that makes his fingers still over his screen. You push the cucumbers off his plate. It’s so natural, so absentminded, that you don’t even seem to notice yourself doing it. Just a quick movement, the same way you always do.

Jeonghan stares at his plate, where the cucumbers had been only seconds ago, now neatly placed onto yours without a word. He glances up at you, but you’re still focused on your meal, completely unbothered, like this is just… normal.

He thinks back—tries to remember when this started. When you figured out he didn’t like cucumbers. When you decided, without being asked, to take them off his plate every single time.

Jeonghan swallows.

“Are you gonna eat that?” you ask suddenly, pointing at the bread roll on his tray.

He blinks, momentarily caught off guard before scoffing. “At least let me offer before you start eyeing my food.”

You roll your eyes, reaching over to grab it anyway. “Please, you were gonna give it to me either way.”

He doesn’t argue. Because you’re right. He always does.

And now, as you tear off a piece of the bread and pop it into your mouth without thinking, Jeonghan can’t help but notice the way this has all become a habit. The way there are things you do for him without question. The way there are things he does for you, too.

Jeonghan exhales, poking at the rest of his food, but suddenly, it doesn’t taste the same.

Because now, he’s thinking about it again.

Thinking about what makes you act like this.

But he doesn’t ask.

The next instance is in the rain.

Jeonghan had told you to go home before the storm hit, rolled his eyes when you stubbornly refused– insisting you’d be fine– until he finally managed to convince you. And now, standing under the awning of a closed convenience store, watching the rain pour down in sheets, he’s debating whether he should call you just to say, “I told you so.”

Then his phone buzzes.

You: are you still at the library?

Jeonghan frowns, quickly typing back.

Jeonghan: no, at the convenience store across from it, dorm ran out of soju You: don’t leave yet. I’m coming to get you.

He stares at the screen, brow furrowing. You’re coming to get him?

It takes you fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes of Jeonghan watching the rain fall, of tapping his fingers against his phone, of wondering—really wondering—why you’re doing this.

And then you’re there, pulling up to the curb with your hazard lights flashing, hair slightly damp from the short sprint to your car. You barely give him a chance to react before you’re unlocking the door, waving him in.

“Hurry up,” you say, like this is normal. Like it’s nothing. Like you haven’t just driven across town in the middle of a downpour for him.

Jeonghan slides into the passenger seat, dripping water onto your floor mats. He doesn’t speak at first, just watches you as you reach into the backseat and pull out a towel.

You toss it at him without looking, focused on pulling back into traffic. “Dry your hair before you get sick.”

Jeonghan stares at the towel, then at you. “Did you—”

“I always keep one in my car,” you interrupt, as if reading his mind. “For emergencies.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, rubbing the towel over his damp hair. “So, I’m an emergency now?”

“You’re definitely something.” You shake your head, smiling to yourself. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”

But you do.

You do, every single time.

You didn’t have to come get him. You didn’t have to wait for him at the library, or bring him coffee every morning, or let him cling to you at parties without question.

And yet, here you are.

Jeonghan exhales, pressing his lips together, fingers tightening around the towel in his lap.

His chest feels warm again. Too warm.

He should say something. Should tease you, should make some dumb joke to brush this off like he always does.

But for the first time, he doesn’t.

For the first time, he just sits there, watching you drive, heart pounding against his ribs.

But he doesn’t want to think about how you make him feel.

The worst time is when he’s sick.

Jeonghan rarely gets sick. He prides himself on that, actually—on having an immune system strong enough to withstand whatever hell Mingyu’s cooking experiments unleash upon their friend group. But now, he’s curled up in bed, utterly miserable, his head pounding and his throat raw.

He doesn’t remember texting you. He’s not even sure if he did. But somehow, you’re there.

The knock on his door barely registers, his brain foggy with fever, but then you’re pushing it open, arms full—plastic bags rustling, a familiar frown on your lips.

“Dumbass,” you scold immediately, setting everything down on his desk before walking over to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dying?”

Jeonghan groans, burying his face in his pillow. “Not dying.”

“You sound like you swallowed glass.” You reach out, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead before he can stop you. Your skin is cool against his overheated skin, and it makes him shiver.

You frown deeper. “You’re burning up.”

“I’ll live,” he mutters, voice hoarse.

You click your tongue but don’t argue, instead moving back to the desk, unpacking the bags you brought. Jeonghan watches through half-lidded eyes as you pull out medicine, a bottle of his favorite drink, a container of porridge, and— he freezes, heart stuttering.

You brought the exact brand of honey lemon lozenges he likes. The ones he always complains are overpriced but still buys anyway. His fingers twitch where they rest against his blanket.

“How’d you—” He stops to clear his throat. “You remembered?”

You glance at him, raising a brow. “Of course I did.”

You say it like it’s obvious, as if he’s the weird one for even questioning it. Jeonghan doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays quiet, watching as you pour medicine into the cap and hold it out expectantly.

He doesn’t complain. Doesn’t make a fuss like he normally would.

He just sits up, takes the medicine, and lets you take care of him.

And this time, he doesn’t try to push the warmth in his chest away, choosing instead to bask in your care, pretending it means more than it does.

But he doesn’t admit that.

The next time Jeonghan notices it, really notices it, is a week later.

You don’t know it’s happening (not that you ever do). Don’t notice that he’s staring at you from across the table, barely registering Seungcheol’s story about some girl who ghosted him after three dates. Don’t know that something in his brain is shifting—catching on a thought that’s finally fully formed.

He watches the way you laugh at something Mingyu says, how your nose scrunches slightly when you sip your too-sweet drink. Watches the way you lean back in your chair, rolling your eyes at something dumb he said earlier.

He thinks about how easily you fit next to him. How you always have.

And then it hits him.

A slow-burning realization that should’ve hit him years ago.

The reason you always let him steal your food even when you pretend to be annoyed. The reason you text him good morning when you know he won’t wake up until noon. The reason you never let him get away with his bullshit but still let him stay, no matter how insufferable he is.

The reason you look at him sometimes like he’s the only person in the room, like you’d give him the world if he just asked.

The reason you always have.

His stomach flips.

Oh.

Jeonghan blinks. Swallows hard. Tries to ignore the sudden, inexplicable rush of warmth crawling up his neck. Because this—this—should not be happening. He’s Jeonghan. You’re you. His best friend. The one person who never falls for his tricks, never gets caught up in his nonsense.

Except… you do, don’t you?

And he’s been too blind—too stupid—to see it.

“Oh, shit,” Jeonghan mutters under his breath.

Mingyu pauses mid-bite, looking up. “Huh?”

Jeonghan forces a lazy smile, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

But it isn’t nothing.

It’s everything.

And Jeonghan—who has always prided himself on being two steps ahead of everyone else—has never been more terrified in his life because now, he can’t stop noticing.

It’s in the way you always save him a seat, even when the lecture hall is packed. The way you complain about his bad habits but never actually stop him. The way your fingers brush against his when you pass him something, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

It’s in the way he finds himself looking for you first in a crowded room, in the way his teasing has softened without him realizing, in the way his heart stumbles over itself when you laugh at something he says.

It’s in the way you listen to him—even when he’s talking absolute nonsense—nodding along like his words actually matter. How you remember the smallest things, like how he hates cucumbers or how he always picks the sesame bagel first. The way you instinctively move closer when he nudges you, like it’s second nature, like you don’t even think about it.

And Jeonghan—who has always prided himself on knowing things before anyone else, on seeing things before they happen—is suddenly drowning in a realization that has been staring him in the face for years.

Because it’s not just you.

It’s him, too.

It’s the way he always shifts closer to you on instinct, the way his gaze flickers toward you the second you walk into a room. The way he lets his guard down without thinking, lets you see the parts of him that no one else does. The way he keeps finding excuses to be near you, even when he tells himself he’s not.

It’s the way his hoodie still hangs in your closet because you never gave it back—and he never asked for it. The way he’s memorized the exact rhythm of your footsteps when you walk beside him. The way he never thinks twice about sharing his food with you, even when he swats Seokmin’s hand away for trying the same thing.

The way his heart is racing right now, loud enough that he swears someone else must hear it.

He swallows hard, fingers tightening around his drink.

Because if all of this is true—if he’s been feeling this way without even knowing it—then that means everything has already changed. And he has no idea what to do about it.

Jeonghan feels like he can’t breathe. The noise of the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the laughter, the clatter of plates—it all feels too loud, too much. His skin is buzzing, his thoughts spiraling, and before he can stop himself, he’s pushing back his chair and standing up.

No one really notices—Seungcheol is too caught up in his story, Mingyu is still chewing—but you do. Of course you do.

Jeonghan mutters something about fresh air and slips outside before anyone thinks to ask questions. The cool evening air hits him like a slap, sharp and grounding, but it does nothing to quiet the way his chest is tightening. He leans against the brick wall, pressing his palms against his eyes, trying to steady himself.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

The door swings open behind him.

“Jeonghan?”

Your voice is gentle, cautious.

He forces himself to relax, dropping his hands and looking at you with the most neutral expression he can manage. “What’s up?”

You step closer, studying him, your brows furrowing. “Are you okay?”

Jeonghan scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You give him a look—the one that tells him you know he’s full of shit. “You just got up and walked out in the middle of a conversation. That’s not normal.”

He shrugs, shifting his weight. “I just needed some air.”

You don’t move. Don’t buy it for a second.

“Jeonghan.” Your voice is softer this time, almost hesitant. “What’s wrong?”

And he could lie– brush it off, smirk, make some dumb joke to change the subject. That’s what he always does. But for some reason, with you standing there, looking at him like that—like you care, like you’re waiting for the truth—he finds that he can’t.

So instead, Jeonghan exhales sharply, shakes his head and looks away. “I think I just realized something really, really big.”

You tilt your head. “What?”

He hesitates– opens his mouth, closes it.

Then—

“It’s nothing,” he says, too quickly. Forces a smirk, even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come on, let’s go back before Mingyu eats all my fries.”

You watch him for a moment longer, and he wonders if you can see through him, if you can hear all the things he isn’t saying.

But then, finally, you sigh. “You’re acting weird.”

Jeonghan laughs, bumping his shoulder against yours as he steers you back inside. “I’m always weird.”

You roll your eyes but let him pull you along. And Jeonghan?

Jeonghan wonders if he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life.

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

He tells himself it’s fine. Tells himself it was just a weird moment, a fleeting thought, something he can push down and forget about if he just acts normal.

So that’s what he does.

For the next few days, he’s careful– not staring too long when you talk, not lingering when you walk beside him. He keeps things exactly the same—laughs at your complaints, steals your food, teases you like he always has.

But he can’t unsee it now.

Can’t unfeel the way his heart stutters when you smile at him. The way his skin burns when your arm brushes his. He finds himself watching you when you aren’t looking, cataloging all the little things about you that he somehow never realized were his favorite things.

Worst of all—he can’t unsee the way you look at him.

Because now that he’s noticed, he knows.

You’ve always looked at him like that.

And now it’s killing him.

It all comes to a head one night when you’re at Seungcheol’s place for a movie night. The room is dim, the couch too crowded, so you end up sitting on the floor between Jeonghan’s legs. It’s normal. You’ve done it a hundred times before.

But tonight, Jeonghan feels every shift, every time you lean against him. Your shoulder against his knee. Your head tilted back against his leg when you laugh at something on the screen. The warmth of you, right there, so close, so easy.

And then—because the universe is cruel—you grab his hand absentmindedly, just to play with his fingers like you always do when you’re fidgeting. But this time, Jeonghan’s entire world tilts on its axis. His breath catches, heart lurches.

And suddenly, all he can think is—I’m so fucked.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at your hand in his, feeling the slow, absentminded way your fingers trace along his knuckles. It’s nothing.

Except it isn’t because now he knows, and knowing makes it unbearable. So he does the only thing he can think of: he pulls his hand away and stands up.

Too fast. Too abrupt.

You blink, looking up at him in confusion as he mumbles something—some excuse that even he knows doesn’t make sense—and makes a beeline for the door. He barely hears the others calling after him, barely registers the cool night air as he steps outside, pressing a hand to his chest like he can physically push down whatever the hell is clawing its way up his throat.

This can’t be happening.

He can’t be acting like this.

But it is, he is.

And then—

The door creaks open behind him.

“Jeonghan?”

Your voice. Soft, uncertain.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second before forcing a smile and turning around. “Yeah?”

You step closer, arms crossed against the cold. “You’ve been… off these last few days. Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Too quick. Too easy. A lie, and you know it.

You frown, chastising him, “Jeonghan.”

And the way you say his name—like you know him too well, like you can see straight through him—makes his stomach flip. He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I just needed some space.”

You study him, searching his face like you’re piecing together a puzzle only he knows the answer to. “Did I do something?” Your voice is quiet, hesitant, like the idea of hurting him actually hurts you. It almost makes him want to laugh because God, you have no idea.

“No,” he says, too soft, too real. “You didn’t do anything.”

You don’t look convinced, but you don’t push. Instead, you step closer, tilting your head. “Then what is it? I’m worried about you.”

Jeonghan looks at you—the way your brows furrow, the way your lips press together, the way you’re always standing too close but it never mattered until now. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—to push this moment away, to pretend like it’s just another weird, fleeting feeling. But then he looks at you, really looks at you.

Your eyes, wide and trusting, waiting for him to say something that will make sense of whatever the hell happened in there. He takes a step forward, slowly, almost reluctantly, like his body is moving on its own. His arms wrap around you on instinct, like muscle memory, like habit. But when his face finds the crook of your neck and you rub soothing circles into his back, it doesn’t feel like a habit at all. It feels like something else entirely.

Jeonghan pulls back slightly, his hands still lingering on your arms, as if trying to ground himself. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, and he knows he can’t run from it any longer. His heart is beating fast, and he finally asks, his voice tentative, “Do you... do you like me?”

You blink, the question catching you off guard. He’s asked you this before, often asking “what about me” whenever anyone compliments another person. For a moment, it feels like time has paused. He’s looking at you with this vulnerability, this rawness, and it’s both terrifying and comforting at the same time.

“Of course I like you, you’re my best friend.”

Jeonghan’s chest tightens at your words, and his breath catches in his throat. It’s not the answer he was hoping for, not exactly, but he’s not sure what he was expecting either. His heart sinks a little. He didn’t know what kind of answer he wanted, but this... wasn’t it.

“I—yeah, I know,” he says quickly, rubbing a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous now, why it’s suddenly harder to breathe. “But I mean... do you like me more than that? Like, in a way that’s not just... like that?”

There’s a pause as you look at him, and he can’t read your expression, can’t tell if you’re confused or just processing. But your eyes soften as you take in the question.

You tilt your head, trying to make sense of it. “Wait... are you asking if I like you like you?”

Jeonghan nods, a bit sheepish, unable to hide the vulnerability on his face now. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Have I been reading the signals wrong? Am I more than just...do you see me the way I see you?”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. The silence stretches, and Jeonghan feels his heart racing, anxiety curling in his stomach. He regrets even asking, but he can’t bring himself to back out now. Finally, you take a step closer, a smile tugging at your lips, though it’s a little teasing. “And what if I do?”

The words hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, Jeonghan just stands there, blinking at you, his mind scrambling to catch up. He wasn’t ready for that answer. He wasn’t prepared for the shift in the air between you.

“Well,” he says, frowning. “Do you?”

You laugh softly, but there’s no mocking in it, just warmth. “I think you’re a little slow, Jeonghan, I don’t know how much more obvious I could’ve been. I’ve liked you for years.”

Jeonghan’s breath catches, and for a split second, he feels lightheaded, overwhelmed by the sudden clarity. His heart thuds in his chest as you step closer, and there’s a quiet intensity in your gaze that makes everything feel like it’s falling into place.

“You...” He’s still struggling to get the words out, his mind still spinning, but this time, it’s not confusion that’s holding him back. It’s something else entirely. “I didn’t know.”

You smile again, shaking your head and stepping just a little closer until there’s barely any space between you. “Well, I wasn’t exactly going to say it first, was I?” you tease, but there’s something deeper in your voice now. “You’ve been my best friend for how long now? I’ve seen you turn down hundreds of women.”

Jeonghan reaches out, his hands trembling just slightly as he gently cups your face in his palms, searching your eyes for any hint of doubt. “But... you’re different.” He whispers, his voice low but steady.

You lean into his touch, your eyes never leaving his. “Am I?”

He nods and you smile, causing warmth to spread across his chest. “What does this mean?” He asks hesitantly. Sure he’s been in plenty of relationships before, but he didn’t care about any of them like he cares about you because, like he said, you’re different.

“It means you’re an idiot for taking this long,” you say with a grin. “But it also means I don’t have to wait anymore.”

Before he can say another word, you close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, slow kiss. It isn't urgent. There’s no rush, no pushing– just the slow pull of two people who had been waiting for this moment for far too long. Your lips are gentle, testing at first, as if asking for permission. And he gives it, deepening the kiss with a quiet intensity as your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss feels like a quiet promise, an unspoken exchange of everything you’ve never said. Your lips part, and he follows, the kiss turning softer, more tender as he tries to memorize every inch of you. He cups your cheek as if you’re something delicate, something worth protecting. Because you are.

It feels like time is suspended, like there's nothing else but the warmth of your mouths, the softness of your hands. Every part of him is alive with sensation, heart racing faster with each passing moment. He can feel your pulse, too—faster now, matching his.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, both of you smiling, hearts racing.

“How did you put up with me? I was such an idiot.” Jeonghan says softly, his voice full of affection, but also amusement.

You laugh, your fingers tracing his jawline. “Nothing out of the ordinary. And hey, even dumbasses deserve love.” You say, giving him a peck on the lips.

The sound of a door creaking open behind you breaks the moment, and you pull away reluctantly, both of you still close, but now acutely aware that you’re no longer alone. The sound of Seungcheol’s voice filters through the hallway. “Hey! You two coming back in or what? We need someone to help pick the next movie!”

You glance at Jeonghan, both of you smiling, the weight of the world feeling just a little lighter now. He laughs quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you, a bit sheepish.

“Guess we should probably... go back,” you say with a grin.

He nods, still unable to wipe the smile off his face. “Probably, yeah. Or we could go over to my place instead?”

You just laugh, shaking your head, “Maybe next time, loverboy,” you say, dragging him back to the living room, this time snuggling up next to him under a blanket. Your hand rests on his thigh, trancing slow patterns absentmindedly onto the skin and making a shiver go down his back. It’s not the first time you’ve done this–heck you were fidgeting with his hand before he left–but this time is different. Because now you both know. Jeonghan tries his best to focus on the movie, he really does, but all he can think about is the softness of your lips on his, the way you tugged at his hair when he licked into your mouth, the way your hand feels so good as it squeezes his thigh.

Nope.

Nope nope nope nope nope.

He grabs your hand, flipping it up to interlock his fingers with yours because he is not about to get hard. You gently squeeze his hand, resting your head on his shoulder. He’s hyper-aware of how your hand slots perfectly with his, how you fling your legs over his own. When he glances over at you and sees a mischievous glint in your eye so often found in his, he knows he’s screwed.

And god does he love it.

It’s a running joke between your friends that Jeonghan can never last more than two hours, whether it’s drinking, socializing, or partying, after two hours Jeonghan will clock out. He manages to make it through three hours of your teasing as the movie plays in the background. He doesn’t know what's happening in the movie, and quite frankly, couldn’t give any less of a fuck. Not when he’s endured your breath ghosting over his neck, your weight shifting on him slightly too much for it to be innocent, for three. Whole. Hours.

Yawning and pretending to stretch when the movie is paused for a bathroom break, he stands up, allowing the blanket to fall from his lap and enjoying your complaint at the sudden cold.

“Alright,” Jeonghan announces, rubbing at his eyes dramatically. “I think that’s my cue to head out.”

A chorus of groans follows. “Dude, the movie isn’t even over,” Minghao complains, arms crossed.

“You do this every time,” Jihoon adds, unimpressed.

Jeonghan sighs. “It’s not even that good.”

“Bro, it’s nominated for like, five academy awards.” Vernon guffaws.

Jeonghan shrugs, entirely unbothered.

You roll your eyes but don’t move from your spot on the couch. “You’re so predictable.”

He hums, tilting his head at you. “I’m consistent, there’s a difference.” He grabs your hand, attempting to tug you up. “Come on, let’s go.”

You blink at him, feigning innocence. “Where am I going?”

“Home. With me. So we can escape these idiots. Duh.”

A pillow flies in Jeonghan’s direction, courtesy of Seungkwan. “We can still hear you, dipshit.”

Jeonghan easily dodges it before turning back to you with a grin. “Come on.”

You stretch your arms over your head and settle deeper into the couch, smirking at him. “I think I’ll stay.”

Jeonghan stares at you like you’ve just betrayed him. “But who’s going to drive me home?” He pulls his lips into a pout.

“I guess you’ll have to take the bus,” you drag out, watching the way his face scrunches in displeasure, “I want to finish the movie.”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at you, crouching slightly to be level with your gaze. “But you don’t even care about the movie.”

You shrug. “Apparently it’s nominated for whatever Vernon said. Very interesting stuff.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath. He drops onto his knees in front of you, leaning against the couch as he complains. “But I wanna go home.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then go?”

His hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you slightly forward. “Not without you.”

“Jeonghan,” you warn, but it holds no real bite.

He whines, a real, genuine whine that has Jihoon groaning in disgust in the background before tugging you forward to whisper in your ear. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be with you. Alone. Where I don’t have to share you with all these people.”

You fight a smile. “Wow, I never knew you were so clingy.”

He glares up at you, pout still prominent. “Only for you.”

There’s a beat of silence before you sigh dramatically, running a hand through your hair. “Ugh, fine.”

Jeonghan perks up immediately, eyes glimmering with victory. “Nice!”

You shove at his forehead lightly. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“And yet, you’re still coming with me,” he sing-songs, standing up and holding out a hand.

You take it begrudgingly, rolling your eyes when he laces your fingers together smugly.

“Bye, quitters,” Seungkwan calls out, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jeonghan doesn’t even spare him a glance, tugging you toward the door with a satisfied grin.

Jeonghan is not used to being the one squirming, yet here he is, sitting in your passenger seat, fingers twitching against his knee, fighting the urge to run his tongue over his bottom lip, needing something to do.

He’s been watching you for the past fifteen minutes, the way your hands flex on the wheel, the way your brows furrow slightly whenever he shifts in his seat. You’re pretending to be unaffected, as if his presence this close—his breath practically in your space, his eyes raking over you like he’s memorizing every detail—does nothing to you.

It’s almost convincing. Almost.

But Jeonghan knows you too well.

He wonders if you can feel the weight of his gaze as he studies you, cataloging every flicker of your expression, every little movement. The way your lips part slightly when you exhale, the way you press your tongue to the inside of your cheek when the traffic slows.

You’re gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. It makes him smirk.

“You’re staring,” you say, voice clipped.

“Am I not allowed?” he asks, all feigned innocence. He props his chin up on his hand, leaning toward you just slightly, just enough to feel the tension coil even tighter between you.

He watches your fingers tighten just a little more. You don’t look at him. He grins.

“Thought so,” he murmurs, just to be annoying.

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Maybe if you weren’t looking at me like that, it’d be easier.”

“Like what? I’m just looking at my beautiful best friend who happens to be madly in love with me.”

You scoff, shooting him a pointed look, but he just smiles at you, that cute smile he always does when he’s being the picture perfect image of innocence.

He shifts in his seat, lets his hand fall casually onto your thigh. The reaction is instant—your muscles tense, just for a second, but he notices. He always does.

You don’t shove him off. You don’t even flinch. He lets his thumb move, tracing small, slow circles against the fabric of your jeans. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to be felt. Enough to make you react.

“Jeonghan,” you warn.

He hums, fingers pressing just a little firmer. “What?”

“You’re distracting me.”

He exhales a quiet laugh. “Wonder what that must be like.” He muses.

The car slows to a stop at a red light, and for the first time, you turn to face him fully. Your eyes meet his, and god, it’s enough to make his stomach twist. There’s a challenge there, a silent push and pull that makes Jeonghan wonder who’s going to break first.

Just as he’s about to push further, you grab his wrist.For a brief moment he worries that he’s gone too far, made you uncomfortable enough to shove him off, but you don’t. Instead you just turn his hand upwards to intertwine your fingers the way he did before.

“Behave,” you say simply.

And then you’re driving again, like nothing happened.

Jeonghan blinks. His mouth parts slightly, caught somewhere between shock and amusement, and he lets out a quiet chuckle, leaning back into his seat. His knee bounces slightly—he hates how much you affect him. (No, he doesn’t.)"

As soon as his apartment door closes, your mouth is on Jeonghan’s. Your lips move urgently against his as he smiles into the kiss. When you tilt his chin to deepen it, pushing your tongue into his mouth, he makes a sound he didn’t know he was capable of– something between a whimper and a groan that screamed neediness.

“Angel,” He whines against your lips, hands running up and down your body as he pushes you harder against the door, slotting a leg between your thighs. Your fingers tug at his hair deliciously, soft lips contrasting the way they devour him. You grind against his thigh, sighing at the friction,your hands trailing down his body to tug at his shirt. You break apart so he can tug his shirt off, your hands leaving goosebumps as they trail across the newly exposed skin.

You break the kiss, trailing kisses across his jaw and down his neck, sucking marks onto his collarbone that have his mind reeling, “Please,” His hands squeeze your waist tighter, he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for anymore, all he knows is that he needs more; more of your touch, your lips, your smell, you, you, you.

You smile against his skin, your breath making him shiver as it fans across the wet patch of skin you had been ravishing, “Aww, Hannie,” you coo, “are you getting impatient baby?” Your hips grind into his thigh again and he lets out a shaky breath.

Witchcraft, he decides, is the only explanation to whatever spell you have him under. He nods frantically, hips involuntarily thrusting forward when you chuckle, lifting your face back up to his. The look in your eyes is a cross between adoring and down right evil as you kiss his lips languidly before moving towards his ear, “Think about how I’ve felt all this time.”

The whispered words get lost in his soft groans as you continue to kiss him, grinding harder on him and whimpering against his skin. Suddenly you’re pushing him, not separating your lips as you force him to walk backwards. You know his apartment like the back of your hand– even helped him unpack his moving boxes when he first bought it– so it’s no surprise that you lead him to the bedroom without a hitch, clothes falling off somewhere along the way until you’re standing in front of him, clad in a white set that-

Wow.

If Aphrodite exists, you must be blessed by her, he thinks (not wanting to eternally damn you by saying you rival her beauty—although he definitely wouldn’t say you don’t). The lace hugs your curves perfectly, small bows accentuating every beautiful—fuck, he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking anymore because you just look that good. Jeonghan doesn’t even realize he’s reaching for you, hands hovering in the air between you as if he's scared you’ll disappear if he touches you.

You reach out your hand to intertwine your fingers with his, pushing until he falls back onto the bed before climbing on top of him. You thread your fingers through his hair as you straddle him, kissing him slowly, grinding against his hardness through his boxers. The feeling has his eyes closing, needy groans escaping his lips before he can stop them.

“My pretty baby,” you whisper against his lips, hands tugging in his hair to give you access to his throat again, licking and sucking marks in ways that have his back arching off the bed. Your hands run up and down his torso, hips grinding harder against his prompting a string of curses to escape him as he grabs your hips—to stop you or push you against him more, he doesn’t know. “So needy for me, huh? Who knew that behind your teasing facade you were really just a brat?”

Does Jeonghan have a degradation kink? He didn’t think so until this moment, when his hips buck into yours involuntarily with a whine. “Angel, please, I—I need you.” He practically sobs when you start to climb off him, settling yourself on the bed and spreading your legs open. Jeonghan rushes towards you, breath catching in his throat at the sight of a damp spot in the center of your panties.

He settles himself between your legs, leaving marks on your inner thigh before nuzzling himself against your covered core. The sound of your breath hitching makes him chuckle as he presses a wet kiss directly over the damp fabric, “And you said I was needy.” He mutters, bringing a hand up to slide your panties to the side of your corce, practically drooling at the clear string of liquid that connects them. Unable to help himself, he licks at your entrance lightly, humming at the taste and the way your legs quiver next to him.

“You’re lucky I love you because if there’s one thing you were right about, it's that I am a tease. But tonight?” Jeonghan starts rubbing slow circles over your clit, “Tonight, I’m going to have you shaking under me.” With that, he rids you of your underwear completely before diving into your heat. Your hands once again shoot to his hair, pushing his face further against you as he eats your pussy like it’s his last meal on death row.

“Shit, Hannie,” You whine above him, moans getting higher in pitch as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, “Fingers, please– fuck, please.” He isn’t one to deny you when you beg so cutely for him, reveling in the way your pussy practically sucks his finger in. He can feel how tight your walls are, slipping another finger in with ease because of how wet you’ve gotten. All for him. He curves his fingers into a spongy spot that has your back arching off the bed, proceeding to target the spot while attacking your clit with his tongue. The sounds coming from above him is music to his ears, all of his senses taken over by you as he feels you break around him. He doesn’t stop, drinking your juices and bringing you to another high just as quickly, until you’re quivering around him.

He slows down, not stopping but giving you time to catch your breath when you pull him away, bringing his lips back up to yours, not caring that you can taste yourself on his lips. You make quick work of your bra, throwing it to the side somewhere and Jeonghan can’t help but ogle. He sits up, dragging his hands up your bare body and resting them just below the swell of your chest. Slowly, he connects his lips to the skin, closing his eyes as one hand goes to fondle the other. Your hips start moving against his again, sweet moans coming from both of you. Eventually you push him back to the bed so you can appreciate the sight of Jeonghan, face flushed, hair splayed across the pillow behind him, lips parted.

With each rock of your hips, Jeonghan moans louder. Your movements get faster and faster, and so do Jeonghan's moans, the whimpers only making you need him more.

He can hardly stand it, gripping your hips as tight as he can, trying to hold himself back, but the pressure feels so good, and you look so angelic as you rub your bare pussy against him.

You grab his hair and pull his head back. "Fuck," he chokes, looking down at where you're grinding against him. You feel his cock twitch inside his pants, and switch your pace to a quicker rhythm, grinding harder as Jeonghan's eyes darken under you.

He grabs your hips tightly, goes still, and lets out a low whine. You feel his hips jolt beneath you, and you pause. His face is flushed a deep pink all the way to his neck.

You stare in disbelief. Jeonghan hides his face in your neck, holding your body close. You look beneath you, a dark spot forming in Jeonghan's boxers.

"Aw, Hannie," you pull his face from your neck, looking him in the eyes. "My sweet, sweet Hannie." You smile and kiss him slowly, full of adoration and love. You kiss down his neck, making way towards his dick before finally sliding onto your knees on the floor between Jeonghan's legs. You press a kiss to the wet spot in his boxers, looking him directly in the eyes as you do, and feeling him twitch against your lips.

You gently pull his cock out of his underwear, shocked to see him covered in his own cum. He twitches at the contact, sensitive.

"Fuck, you’re perfect."

You teasingly stroke his length and watch him twitch when your thumb runs over the tip. “Please,” he looks up at you through his lashes, pleading, "I need you."

Those words are all you need to hear before planting your legs on either side of him, reaching between your bodies and wrapping your hand around Jeonghan's length. You glide the tip along your entrance, soaking him in your arousal before lowering your hips to slide him inside you. Loud moans escape both of you at the sensation of him filling you. He says your name like a prayer, hands rubbing circles on your hips, not knowing if it’s to ground you or himself. You slowly lift yourself up before sitting back down quickly, loving the way Jeonghan’s head falls to the side. "Shit, pretty. So perfect for me, god."

His grip on your hips gets tighter as you pick up speed, your pussy squeezing around him as if it never wants to let him go. All thoughts are wiped from his brain when you start kissing him through moans, whispering in his ear about how good it feels, how much you love him. He can feel you getting closer, your cunt pulsating with every roll of your hips. He brings a hand to your clit, starting to rub circles when you break, bringing him over the edge with you.

Your body collapses over Jeonghan's, shaking slightly as you come down from your high. Although he’s not in a much better state, he flips you onto your back, slipping out of you despite your protests and appreciating the way his cum drips out of your hole. He makes his way to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth to clean you up a little until he notices you awkwardly waddling in after him. He’s unable to stop the laugh that bubbles in his chest, making you pout as you sit on the toilet to let the cum drain out of you.

Jeonghan leans over, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, and he can’t help but notice how beautiful your smile is—how it lights up your face and his days.

Epilogue:

Jeonghan doesn’t change. He still steals your food, still drapes himself over you like a cat when he’s tired, nuzzles into your shoulder and complains that you’re too warm when it’s his fault for climbing all over you in the first place. He still teases you mercilessly, grinning that lazy, adorable infuriating smile whenever you roll your eyes at him.

What’s changed is that now, you kiss him to shut him up. And Jeonghan—who spent so long hiding behind his charm, his easy confidence—doesn’t even try to stop you. If anything, he leans into it. Leans into you.

Now, on mornings before class, he walks in with you through the doors of the coffee shop, one arm wrapped around your shoulder as he complains about how early it is, burying his face in the side of your neck. He picks you up in the rain, stays late at the library with you, and drives you home—like it's second nature.

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jiminrings · 4 months ago

Text

mature drabble: jealousy

wherein you become a TA alongside yoongi, and jungkook has no choice but to prove his superiority in other ways

[ smut, unprotected sex, oral, jealousy, slight dumbification kink AND praise kink, he’s a little dense and a little mean and beyond endearing (like always), he Wants so badly to give a creampie (so he does), hints of possessiveness, overstimulation, typical mature!jk levels of yearning n overcompensation ]

read mature here!

If you had to isolate one thing about Jungkook (just one, singular thing) that both annoys the living hell out of you and endears you to him to the point that it gets you closer, if that was even possible — it would be his inability to let go of things.

In his process of climbing up the ranks to become your boyfriend, Jungkook’s inability to let you distance yourself from him without getting into numerous fights and an incessant amount of groveling cemented him in your life in the first place.

He’s mouthy and nitpicky, yet he knows diligently when to shut up and just take it. He harnesses the perfect amount of stubbornness that would make you cave after several negotiations here and there, but never excessive to the point that you’d feel the need to post about him on Reddit with a seething heading of “my partner M27 pretends to faint in front of me every time I tell him I don’t want to cuddle”.

(Jungkook isn’t even faking it.)

Jungkook knows that he’s not the go-to guy for a lot of practical things. He knows that he’s not the one you run to when you need to go over your reviewer for your oral exam that’s worth 70% of your grade, because that’s Yoongi’s place.

Jungkook’s there when you need to get your shirt ironed to perfection without any creases (even in the tricky part of the underarm-to-midline area), and he’s also there when you need someone to poke holes at your seemingly airtight presentation proposal. He is there, but it doesn’t mean he’s the best guy for the job.

Jungkook is and will be there for anything that you need, require, and desire of the world even, but he knows to himself that he can’t be utilized in the way you can bond with Yoongi.

(He hates that stupid, intellectual son of a bitch.)

Your boyfriend knows in his heart of hearts (he knows that it exists somehow and someway) that although he’s not the most optimal partner around for the technical, higher-process things that fill up your everyday life, he’s trying his best to catch up. Jungkook studies voluntarily now (70% to impress you and get you to call him your smart boy, and 50% to make an attempt at getting an above passing grade in all his classes) and even better than before, he loves listening to you.

Jungkook, your (occasionally smart) beloved, listens when you tell him about your day.

He listens and hums and replies when you tell him how tiring it is to be a TA, and how you’re simultaneously excited because it feels so fulfilling to be praised and approached.

He listens and laughs and his eyes twitch slightly when you tell him how fun it is to be a TA alongside Yoongi, because the both of you would have glowing recommendations after the gig and your superiors keep telling you that you’d probably end up at the same place of work after graduation.

He listens and smiles very tightly and squeezes his fists roughly against your pillows when you tell him how some juniors keep muttering that they want to have the uni experience of being smart and being a TA with their partners, supposedly like how you and Yoongi look to them.

Jungkook, a man of his word, will catch up to you.

Jungkook, a man of his word and an even bigger man of his overcompensation, will beat Yoongi.

“You know what they say about guys with big brains,” your boyfriend tuts out of nowhere, looking up from his laptop that only had Yoongi’s LinkedIn profile up for the past half hour while he stews in annoyance. “Really, really small dicks.”

“Where’d that come from?” you immediately snicker, looking up from your actual reviewer, putting your highlighter down to indulge Jungkook in what you’re sure of is just a random conversation.

Just a random conversation out of nowhere that’s totally not fueled by the jealousy he’s been harboring the past few weeks.

“I’m not citing my sources to you,” Jungkook huffs, closing his screen unceremoniously before crossing his arms, shaking his head slowly. “Such a shame about Yoongi.”

Now that you think about, you should’ve seen it coming from a mile away.

You should’ve been suspicious when it was Jungkook himself who asked how Yoongi did awhile ago with a shit-eating grin on his face, as if he’s just gathering all the pent-up frustration he has for the sake of being over with it.

You snort at the implication, the excitement of what could possibly be running in Jungkook’s mind slowly hitting you. “Well, I heard from a friend that he’s really end-…”

“Don’t give a fuck,” he rasps immediately, clicking his tongue. He doesn’t want to hear about what you heard about Y**ngi being well-endowed. He doesn’t want to hear anything but you.

“When you said that fun trivia,” you start, rolling your eyes playfully as you stand up from your desk, joining him on the bed. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch like he usually does to accommodate you; he just lies there, seeing you adjust to his strapping figure on your twin bed. “You do know that you were kind of insulting yourself, right?”

“That I’m not smart but I can fuck you dumb?” he shrugs carelessly, willing himself to not react when you sit on his lap seemingly innocently, embracing him warmly whilst fixing his bangs. “Not really an insult to me.”

The laugh that leaves your lips was purely unintentional.

“You don’t believe me?” he tilts his head, his eyes still bordering on playful yet there’s something behind them that’s even bigger, something you can place as none other but Jungkook’s sheer will to prove himself.

“I don’t think you’re dumb, Kook,” you placate him, the gentle smile you have on your face breaking at the edges into something more intoxicating for him; something more provocative that would set him over his limits. “Just like I believe you haven’t exactly fucked me dumb either.”

The grin on your boyfriend’s face would be appalling if not for the stern grip he has on your thighs, fingers digging resolutely at the flesh with the politest, most harmless known tone to man, even if his words were anything but.

“Now you sound like the dumb one between us,” Jungkook laughs, his sweet laughter going straight to your ears as he noses your cheeks, teeth grazing your jaw as he refuses to kiss you when you try and catch him. “You don’t remember, baby? Don’t remember how I’m the only one who can worship you like this?”

Within a split second, Jungkook strips you out of your tank top that’s far too tight on you, immediately making your boobs spring out right in front of his face like the universe intended for him alone.

Your boyfriend, never losing his thoroughly amused and offensive grin, cups your boobs harshly to the point that he pulls you even closer to him, tongue grazing at your nipples that peek out in between his reddened knuckles.

“Kook…” you swallow the lump in your throat, exhaling shakily when Jungkook keeps you upright with one arm against him, the other doing quick work of shimmying you out of your panties like it’s a test item he can answer in his sleep. “Yoongi’s j-just next door, I don’t think-…”

“Oh, I know that,” he hums, his large, tattooed hand traveling from the small of your back and all the way to your scalp, his trimmed fingernails just barely grazing your hair when he tugs, setting you down on the pillow while he hovers above you. “He can think about how smarter he is than me alll he wants,” he hums, taking his clothes off while conveniently ignoring the way your heartbeat keeps pulsing uncontrollably with barely controlled lust, but Jungkook, just this once, would like to think that he’s better than you.

Jungkook, just this once, would like the upper hand completely when it comes to pleasing you, unwavering to your insistent demands of him giving you what you want, exactly when you want it.

Your boyfriend is not and will never be the one to deprive you of anything; as a matter of fact, he’d like to give you everything— far more than you’re ever asking and deserving of, just as his idea of getting even.

“But he’ll never get to beat me when it comes to fucking you.”

“Yoongi’s not challenging-…” you interrupt yourself the moment Jungkook inserts two fingers right from the start, curling them immediately out of muscle memory. You seethe at the intense, overwhelming pressure he gives to you without even begging for it, the warmth of his digits still being no match to the dumb, willful anger in his face; Jungkook’s so mad and determined, his cheeks turned pink just thinking of how to bend you at his mercy.

“He’s just-..! He’s just trying to get in your nerves, that’s all,” you whisper shakily, hands darting to try and grip onto his hair but Jungkook pushes your hands away, instead redirecting them harshly to keep yourself open. “It’s all just… rage bait, baby. You know that.”

Jungkook laughs thickly, shaking his head as he can quite literally see your struggle for words. You’re dripping wet and trembling, and yet you still want to placate him as if it would save your case.

“And you think I’m not gonna leap on it? I literally will be baited into rage. You know how dumb I am,” he huffs, the addition of a third finger into your pussy that’s already sopping wet making you writhe in sweet tension still, the pleasured cry that leaves you without inhibition making Jungkook even rougher. “You know how dumb I can go just trying to please you.”

There’s a sickly sweet sense of pride that fills Jungkook when he sees you keeping yourself open for him despite your legs aching to clamp down and squeeze on his fingers.

There’s a sickly sweet and overwhelming sense of cockiness that only Jungkook could feel at the moment when he rubs the entirety of his palm roughly against your folds, barely cupping and moving yet all your juices quickly spread, the rough pads of his palm only amplifying the punishing pace of his digits inside you.

"Feel too good, sweetheart? Haven't even become precise with it," Jungkook laughs, biting his bottom lip as he savors in the way your mouth couldn’t even close with the amount of gasps and moans that leave you desperately.

“Fucking arrogant ass," you whisper under your breath in between whimpers, your attempt of a dig at him becoming futile because Jungkook immediately stops rubbing his palm against your core, landing a rough slap against your folds instead.

"What's that now?" he asks, voice deepening as he straightens up, rolling your clit in between his fingers menacingly. The high-pitched, needy moans that leave you make Jungkook even more smug, your frustration making your head jerk repeatedly against the cushions. "I'm not saying it's rocket science to make you cum, baby. I'm not a nerd like Yoongi," he hums, the smile on his face widening the more that you plead at him. "I'm just saying..." Jungkook lulls, burying his fingers knuckle deep before pounding you with them repeatedly, making your entire being squirm upwards at his insistence of making you cum messily. "It takes a whole lot of devotion for it to come easy to me."

“I-I’m gonna— fuck, fuck, f-fuck!” you blubber at your release, crying out as Jungkook dips his head to your pussy (partly admiring at his handiwork, and mostly criticizing himself because it was just not enough for him), grabbing you by your thighs and setting them flush against his face until there's no gap; until he feels lightheaded.

Jungkook eats you out fervently like you’ve always depraved him of such a blessing, your cum still warm as it hasn’t even finished dripping out of you yet your boyfriend laps you up regardless, eyes closed and breathing ragged.

It just wasn’t enough for Jungkook. Getting you to cum felt less like a feat and more of an intimidation for himself, proposed by himself, because Jungkook didn’t want to stop.

He didn’t want to stop eating you out scandalously with his biceps curling in on your thighs, refusing to stop making you feel good as you practically tremor in his hold. He didn’t want to stop being better; he didn’t want to stop catching up with you with none other than his appetite and will.

“Y-you don’t have to-…” you whisper as you shake, the never-ending cycle of Jungkook’s tongue fucking you and cleaning you from the inside making your back arch from the mattress in overstimulation. “Fuck, Jungkook. I-I think I’m-…”

“Isn’t that so stupid, baby?” he giggles sweetly, the entire lower half of his face covered by your cum and his spit, lips reddened and swollen from how hard he’s going. “Gonna cum twice and I haven’t even put my cock in you?” he frowns playfully.

“My smart girl,” Jungkook lulls, talking against your folds as his hands knead your skin even harsher, barely matching up to the sheer desperation in his mind that being inside you wouldn’t even be enough.

He doesn’t take mercy on you, and you don’t even ask for it. You take what Jungkook gives you and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. Even if he rises to his full height and pulls you to the edge of the bed, lining his cock perfectly into your tight pussy that does nothing but suck him into a warmth that would never not stop feeling new and overwhelming for him, it wouldn’t be enough.

“Feel good? Feel good looking stupid on my big, dumb cock?”

“So— s-so good, baby. I-I can’t-…” you whimper, your cheeks sticky with your tears and Jungkook’s open-mouthed kisses that you keep asking for because you can’t be any closer than this; you think you can’t be any more satisfied than this in your life and it makes you cry even harder. “Can’t…. c-can’t talk. I can’t stop c-cumming."

“I can’t hear you,” Jungkook sing-songs, his pace punishing to the point that your skin burns at the impact of his thrusts, body moving alongside every push Jungkook gives you. “My silly girl. Thought you had all the words?” he laughs, gnawing on his bottom lip in amusement when he sees your eyes getting crossed slowly the harder that he slams into your sweet spot. “You need cue cards, is that it, baby? Y’need to brainstorm with Yoongi for them?”

“No, no, n-no!” you ramble, shaking your head desperately. “I-I don’t— d-don’t need Yoongi. I don’t, I-I swear!”

“Then what do you need, hm?” Jungkook asks, prying your lips open with his fingers, your tongue immediately darting out even before he could gather enough of his saliva to spit in your mouth scandalously. “Need you to spell it out for me, pretty girl. I can’t understand otherwise,” he spits, pupils blown out as you immediately swallow what he gives you, mouth parting open slightly to try and respond clearly yet you struggle.

“I just— ffffuck!” you groan, the rough, calculated pull of your hair right when he thrusts into you harshly with all of his weight making you sob in pleasure. “Just n-need you, Jungkook! Just you!”

“Just me? Cute,” he pants, the white edging at his vision making Jungkook feel truly, madly, and sincerely grateful of the universe rewarding him in exchange of all his dumb misfortunes before you. Jungkook feels so good that he could cry. “Can you explain that to me?”

The sincerely annoyed groan that leaves you in frustration in between all of your pleasured moans makes Jungkook throw his head back in laughter, the crawl of both of his hands towards your neck cutting your annoyance short.

“You mad?” he sing-songs, the quiet, panicked chants that leave your lips for his change of pace making Jungkook’s ear ring nonetheless. “Aww, but I slowed down just so you could talk again.”

The look that you give Jungkook– eyes red and lashes wet, lips puffy and bearing evidence of him— is enough to make any living being sink to their knees and devote their lives to you.

Jungkook, however, wants to be the lone devotee, and he wants to make it perfectly clear.

“But I don’t want you to,” you whine, the temporary gift of regaining your voice and your words only irking you.

“Don’t wanna give me a presentation? But you’re so good at those, baby,” Jungkook frowns, his pace only slow and barely noticeable, if not for his size that you still haven’t accustomed to no matter how many times he fucks you.

“I-I… I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper in admission, eyes wet for a completely different reason this time, tugging at his heartstrings.

Jungkook tilts his head as if asking you to elaborate, thumb wiping at your tears.

At the very moment, Jungkook decides that true, absolute strength is always giving what you want, whenever you want it.

“I want you to keep fucking me dumb again.”

Jungkook doesn’t waste a single second before bottoming out completely, his calloused hands adjusting you repeatedly as you moan fervently because no matter what, Jungkook feels like he's not close enough to you. He'll remain to feel like he hasn't bottomed out completely until he finds that spot of yours that completely dissolves you into his hold, all for him to mend.

Jungkook folds you in half with both your legs raised, putting you in a mating press with the entirety of his weight, the unbearable squeak and the drawled out, pornographic moan that leaves you after making him sigh in relief.

“Like this?” he whispers to your ear, pace slow and punishing yet deep; far deeper, closer, and more crushing than he’s ever been in you. “Until— fuck, fuckkk— u-until you’re drooling again? ’Til all you can do is say my name?”

“Say it, Y/N,” Jungkook insists. “Say— s-say I’m better than him.”

You moan graphically at the entirely new sensation of being full of nothing but Jungkook in all senses, your words coming out desperate and resolute.

“Give it.”

“What?”

“Give me a creampie,” you grit, scratching your nails against his back, making him whimper. “Give me your cum, Kook.”

“W-what?” he stutters, breath evidently shallowing at your command.

“Give it,” you practically snarl, your desire bleeding out evidently into Jungkook’s bloodstrean. “I-I already know you’re better than him, Jungkook. I… I just need you to prove it.”

“This is not proof enough?” Jungkook switches in an instant, his brief moment of shock and disbelief being overwhelmed by your desire that’s always been his. “N-need me to— holy shit-…! Need me to stuff you with my cum so we’d know?”

“Yeah. T-there’s not other way, right? How would we know?” you indulge him, nodding your head continuously as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, the weight of Jungkook’s cock in you getting heavier by the second. “My dumb, dumb baby. How are we gonna know how stupid I’ll look if you don’t cum in me?”

Jungkook realizes then, that the upper hand he’ll have over you is by giving you what you want, always, because it’s all he’ll ever want too.

“Y-you’re right. So, so smart, sweetheart,” he concedes, gripping your jaw. “Look at me, baby,” he whispers, eyes boring into you deeply. “Need you to know that I’m the only one who can see you like this, yeah?” Jungkook pouts, talking you through both of your desperation. “That I’m the only one who can fuck you dumb,” he hums. “And how I’m the only one who can see that stupid look on your face.”

“Just you,” you nod without a single dust of doubt, screwing your eyes shut when you feel full beyond your limits within an instant, Jungkook’s cum shooting into you with all its warmth and fulfillment of stuffing you making you squirt.

Jungkook stays inside you as he writhes in overstimulation, the moans that leave him paying absolutely no mind to your neighbors because at this point, it had totally slipped his mind that he went into pleasuring you trying to get even at Yoongi.

Your boyfriend peppers you in kisses as you come down from your high, his own cheeks smeared with his tears as he nibbles at your shoulder out of habit.

“Can I creampie you next time again, please? Like, not just a special occasions thing?” he mumbles sheepishly after some time, looking up at you with his head pressed to your chest.

“The special occasion tonight was you being jealous,” you retort, rolling your eyes at Jungkook’s meekness as if he wasn’t just rearranging your guts minutes ago.

“Thanks for the correction. Let me revise,” he returns your attitude, picking up your habit of rolling your eyes as he clears his throat. “Can I cum in you henceforth?”

“Smartest thing you ever said,” you joke, shaking your head.

“I know,” Jungkook giggles boyishly, tucking his face into the crook of your neck in shyness. “I felt my temple pulse with that one.”

#mature jk drabbles #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook imagine

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girl-lostconnection · 5 months ago

Text

Hear me out

Bloodhound Knight Johnny x Witch!Reader.

Johnny who lived his whole life being a good instrument for his master, being a proper weapon in other’s hands.

Johnny whose training strips his words from him, his dignity, his honour. Dogs don’t have honour after all.

Dogs hear “bite” and they bite. Dogs hear “run” and they run.

Dogs return to their owners no matter how cruel the hand feeding them is. Because that’s what dogs do. That’s how it works.

Johnny who gets his knee injured badly and suddenly after years of servitude and being a good weapon he’s useless. He’s broken. No one needs a dog that can’t run. No one needs a dog that can’t hunt for its master.

They drop him off somewhere in the wilderness, not letting him keep even his sword, the weapon that became part of him, the weapon hilt of which is soaked in his blood and sweat and tears.

It’s his bloody sword! It’s his weapon! He earned it! Why can’t he keep it? Why isn’t he allowed to keep at least this much?

Why isn’t he allowed to keep anything?

But he’s dropped off in the woods and he doesn’t even know where the fuck he is. He doesn’t know what to do — shame and humiliation choking him out, pain in his knee agonising whenever he tries to hobble somewhere.

Dogs in the wild either die or become feral. Johnny isn’t sure what is better for him. He doesn’t have anything left in him to fight more.

He doesn’t have a reason to. Nobody tells him to bite or to run or to break himself piece by piece.

He’s feverish from pain and he’s hungry, god he’s so fucking hungry.

He hasn’t been so hungry since he was a wee thing and his mum couldn’t feed them more than once per day.

Family too big in a place that’s too cold and too barren to feed them properly. Family without men other than him.

Johnny closes his eyes, looking up at the sky, lips chapped and dry.

He doesn’t really mind dying. But he doesn’t want to be hungry. God he doesn’t want to die hungry, he let people break him to fit in the dog hide so he doesn’t die hungry.

And at the brink of it all. You find him.

You smell like herbs and something citrus-y, sweet and homey scent. Warm scent. Delicious scent.

Johnny tilts his head, not sure whether it not you are another hallucination of his feverish mind. Maybe you are. Well, at least that’s something.

Small mercies for a useless dog like him.

You say something, brows furrowed and eyes wary but Johnny doesn’t have any more energy to attack. There’s no fight left in him.

But you tug on him for some reason, you make him drink something — sweet and tangy, his empty stomach clenching with renewed hunger.

“Look at the state of you. Come on, knight, it’s no place to die. Come on, you need to get up”, you hiss at him, forcing him up and make him drink a little more of whatever you have in the flask of yours.

It dulls his pain a little, it sobers him up, his jaws clacking together, almost biting the tip of his own tongue.

It’s humiliating. He’s been his master’s best dog, the leanest hound, the favourite fucking weapon and now he’s just a broken toy that reeks of sweat and blood and infection, knee throbbing.

You should just leave him here. You should let him die.

But you don’t.

You force him to walk, hissing back when he clacks his jaws at you — his leg making the hobble a right bloody adventure but you are relentless. Pouring your drink down his throat, pulling him further in the woods.

Johnny thinks he blacked out for a while because the next time he’s out of delirium he’s lying on the bed, fire cracking in the heath.

His armour propped on the chair next to the bed.

You didn’t take it away. Why didn’t you take it away? He doesn’t deserve it. He’s a bad dog, a weak dog, a useless dog.

Can’t you see his knee? Don’t you know that he won’t be a good weapon for you, witch? What’s use to save him if he’s not useful?

But you don’t allow him to wallow in his own misery, spoon feeding him your weird fucking medicine, making him eat and pushing out of the house so he sits on the fallen tree.

“Some fresh air will do you good”, you hum matter-of-factly and he snarls at you, but it’s half-hearted at best. More for the show and you know it so well it’s infuriating.

You thrust watering can in his hands when he’s out of the woods and no longer risking to fall when he stands up too fast. Johnny looks at it, bewildered and looks back at you, earning himself an exasperated sigh and “water plants around yourself, you big oaf. Yeah, these ones near the log you sit on”.

Johnny feels fucking ridiculous sitting on the bloody log and watering plants around himself. Who the fuck is he? A garden gnome?

Johnny who doesn’t know what use he is to you but you come up with tasks for him and even if he finds them ridiculous…he’s not gonna turn his nose away from work.

You feed him, you house him, you patch up his clothing and make a polish for his armour. You save him for some unknown reason so if you say “water the rosemary, oaf” he’s going to water the rosemary.

His knee slowly gets better but the damage unfortunately is irreversible. He doesn’t lose his leg entirely but you quietly announce that he’s not gonna be able to run again.

Johnny nods, swallowing down his anger and bitterness, back of his throat hurting and spasming, bile rising up.

It’s not fair. He was a good dog, he was the best dog. It’s not fair that he won’t run again.

But you still push him to move, lending your shoulder when he awkwardly stumbles and limps, making ointments for his knee, teaching him how to bandage the thing properly.

He lives through the whole summer with you — sleeping in your bed, eating food you grow, watching you silently.

It’s not until first snow he starts speaking again, the first time scaring the living day out of you — his voice a raspy and wrong thing.

He haven’t used it in 20 years.

But he does now. Starts with clipped “yeah” and “nae”, building up to “thank you” and “morning”. He doesn’t talk much but he does talk and that’s already more than before.

More than he was allowed.

You teach him proper sheep shearing and with your combined efforts he gets himself a warm winter cloak. Then a sweater. Then another one.

It’s foreign and the clothes are warm, keeping him from shivering in winds that grow colder when he cleans the pathway to your house from snow.

You keep him warm.

The thought is a sharp thorn that grows in his mind, poking from inside, something long forgotten inside of him watching you with new intensity.

He still sleeps in your bed with you taking a small cot in the kitchen which wasn’t an issue during summer but winters are cold and when he notices the slight shiver that goes through you…

You keep him warm. It’s only fair if he repays the favour.

You wake up warm and fuzzy from sleep, mind hazy, eyes bleary and you aren’t sure why are you so warm, kitchen cools off during the night. Usually you are shivering when you wake up.

Someone’s breathing tickles your ear and you freeze, turning your head — Johnny’s impossibly blue eyes staring right back at you. Watching you with the same intensity hounds do when they lock in on the target.

With the same quiet obsession stray dogs that adore their owners have.

“What are you doing?”, you murmur quietly, voice husky from sleep, eyes squinting at him.

“Nothing”

Johnny isn’t sure what to do with the hot shiver he feels at the sound of your voice, so he just nudges you back under the blanket and to his absolute delight you comply.

Face pressing into his chest, dozing off in a matter of seconds.

Johnny wraps his arms tighter around you, warm and comfortable. You are soft in his hands, his fingers sinking in the softer parts of your body and god, you still smell good.

Herbs and dried citrus. Homey. Delicious.

Johnny guards you while you sleep, starting to move only when you stir awake. You got your rest. Wonderful.

Johnny nuzzles in your neck, lips mouthing at soft skin and he’s not sure what he’s doing or where he needs to go from there. But you make a soft breathy sound when he licks a wet stripe on your skin and he growls in appreciation.

Maybe it would’ve been better if you were like his previous master. Maybe it would’ve been better if you told him to bite or to run.

Maybe it would’ve been better if you chose his new purpose for him.

But you didn’t. So he chooses it himself.

Johnny’s palms slide under the thin fabric of your shirt, his body nudging your legs open so he can settle in between — slowly sliding under the blankets.

Yeah, he chose alright. Maybe his pretty witch doesn’t need a weapon. Or a dog. Or an instrument to use.

But he needs you.

Johnny rumbles out “bonnie” when he looks back up at you, eyes heavy and hungry.

Didn’t you know that hounds sink their teeth into their prey and don’t let go? Should’ve known better.

Now you aren’t getting rid of him.

Continuation

#call of duty #cod mw2 #girl.snippets #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #elden ring

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rafeslvbug · 10 days ago

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introducing…nba!rafe

back to basics!! (physical)

height: 6”6/6”7 (power forward) second tallest player on his team, uses his height for intimidation over the ball, and in other ways too - outside the court.

build: 220lbs. built, but needs to be agile at the same time. 6”8 wingspan. back muscles you could honestly die for. probably always has some bruises/scratches up his arms and back that no one knows if it’s from training or from you.

age: early to mid twenties. considered one of the most significant power forwards currently in the nba.

looks!! (specific)

tattoos/piercings: has a small tally on his upper arm for nba championship wins. currently set to two. doesn’t wear earrings, though he’s got one piercing from a bet he made. nothing other than that.

signatures: always wearing sports shorts. around the house, out and about in summer, training, etc. unless you actually have to go somewhere, in which case he knows how to dress up. he’d have a thin chain around his neck. silver. small. plain. about the only jewellery he lets himself wear.

personality

jealous: on a scale of 1-10? 11. he can’t help it, if i’m honest. with your popularity, you’ve dated other men who you still see often in your industry. and he knows your quick with relationships, finding something stable is hard. but he wants to be stable. he doesn’t need other people getting in the way of that. arm around your waist at any of your events, showing up to every concert. wouldn’t hide under a hat in the vip section, probably glare down every man who’s staring at you on stage. i’d hate to think of what he’s like with the male dancers.

straightforward: rafe’s clear about what he wants. you. to win. stability. there’s no questioning him, or his intentions. it’s refreshing in a way, no guessing, no wondering if your partner loves you as much as you do. it’s what you need. in other ways it’s often the cause of his stress. when he knows what he wants, and how to get it, and it doesn’t work out for him. he’s too rigid at times, not as flexible or fun as he should be. on the brightside, it fixes arguments quickly.

charismatic: out of a line of men, no doubt wanting to date you, he got you. his biggest brag, but in the end it was how he did it. irresistible charm, didn’t pretend even for a minute that he was only trying to befriend you. made it clear, took what he wanted. flirtiest idiot alive.

supportive: would be at every concert, every show, every event. whenever he can make it, he’s there. no excuses. expects you to do the same, could cause arguments. biggest fan, though. online, in person. never ashamed to say your his, loves when he gets to talk about you.

dislikes

arrogant players. people who think it’s pure talent that got them here. that they’re untouchable. he’ll straighten them out, show them on the pitch that no one is undefeated.

exes. your exes, specifically. hates that you still work with them on occasion. hates how the media is always raving about you and them. always comparing him and them. also hates how people compare you to his exes, when you & him know full well you’re the best gf he’s ever had and vice versa.

small doorways. can’t fit himself through, has to duck his head, will bang it anyways. and if they’re narrow? might just stay outside, doesn’t want to do the awkward sideways step through.

time wasters. in matches, in life. hates doing things without purpose unless it’s actually comforting. walking around aimlessly? unless it’s supposed to be a relaxing walk, it’s just dumb. hates boredom. restless af.

likes

analysing plays. it’s all he does really, studying how to improve himself and get better at the game. if someone is doing better than he is? fine, he’ll learn from them. improve himself. believes he needs to learn from the greats rather than mope around and envy them - that’s how he becomes them.

emotionally intelligent people. people who can understand him, those he can have deep conversations with while still bantering.

someone who has their priorities straight. wants to be with someone who’s resilient. when they set goals, they meet them. where they can support each other.

listening to you talk. at night, when he’s tired, he can lie down on the bed, and just listen to you talk. about anything. your day, stories, song ideas/lyrics and album concepts. he could do it all day long, that is not purposeless.

family & people-specific hcs

nicknames for you: star, pretty girl, baby, missy

nicknames you have for him: baller, my man, cutiepie (as a joke)

- his jersey number is your favourite number

- you guys are most likely engaged. he’d put the biggest rock on your hand and you wouldn’t be private per say. you’re always at his matches, he at your concerts, always out and about together. you’ll record tts from time to time with him in them, or he might post photo dumps with you in them.

- he’d want kids. definitely. all these basketball players he’s surrounded by have the cutest families. he wants it. wants a little boy/girl to take to all his matches, have on his lap during after match conferences, hold on his hip during concerts.

- he’ll do anything you want. star in a music video? sign him up! attend your concert on stage? yes yes. be part of a tiktok? of course.

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joshujin · 2 months ago

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can’t wait no more

🔞 18+, minors do not interact • masterlist • submit a request

your pov • soonyoung’s pov ⇣

soonyoung has been best friends with you for 10 years now—in love with you for almost all of that time. one way or another, those 10 years end tonight.

♫ darl+ing svt pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader word count: 11.6k (i don't want to talk about it) tags: best friends to lovers, idiots in love, a lil miscommunication, angst, happy ending, soonyoung pov, flashbacks cw: smut - possessiveness, unprotected piv (pull-out method. v irresponsible piv. don't be like these two), reader loses virginity, spit, oral f. receiving, fingering, mention of choking, mention of masturbating, soft vanilla smut, probably a little hornier than the other pov bc this is a MAN after all a/n: happy @citruscheol birth!!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و to celebrate this momentous occasion, i ofc had to honor her request for a soonyoung pov of we can be all we need. you don’t really need to read that before this one; after all, they are essentially the same fic. BUT! i recommend you do bc it will make this version more enjoyable + easier to understand. and y’know what, i literally had to drive myself bat shit crazy and completely alter my brain chemistry to write this. like. there isn’t enough grass in the world that i can touch to return back to normal. and idk if i can ever look at hoshi the same ever again, so the least you can do is read both ok ㅠㅠㅠㅠ kidding ofc pls do what you want haha. either way, i think you’ll enjoy whichever one you want to read! as far as smut goes, same thing as last time: i marked where the smut starts and ends, but this courtesy is for adults who don’t want to read explicit material. minors should not be interacting at all pls!

soonyoung has been avoiding you. he knows you know it because you’ve asked him multiple times now if anything was wrong, and every time, he’s lied to you and told you everything was fine. everything wasn’t fine. it hardly felt like anything was fine, actually.

because you just blew out your candles, you’re 30 now, and his time has officially run out. he can’t blame anyone other than himself, though, and he knows it. he had seven whole years to tell you, and instead, he foolishly thought if he just continued to love you the way he’s always loved you, you would simply see it yourself. you would see how hopelessly in love with you he is.

you didn’t. for whatever reason, his showering you with lavish gifts, vacations, and fancy meals didn’t strike you as odd for a friend. or the way he was constantly wrapped around you or leaving kisses on your forehead whenever he had the chance. or the fact that it’s been nine fucking years since he went on a date or slept with anyone. he’s fucking priestly at this point.

and he doesn’t do it just so you’ll get the hint. he does it because that’s how he loves you and that’s how he’s always loved you. but maybe that’s the issue: you think this is just how he is as a friend because he’s been this way ever since he met you. but you couldn’t be more wrong.

soonyoung has never even felt inclined to treat anyone outside of his family the way he treats you. as far as he’s concerned, everything he does for you are just things he watched his dad do for his mom his whole life. you’re not even aware that the way he loves you is supposed to be reserved for whoever becomes his wife.

and he’s been so happy to give you all of that even if it meant you never saw him the way he longed for you to. it fills him with pride to know that your expectations are higher because he’s loved you so well—that you know exactly what you deserve because he’s always tried to give you exactly that.

at least, up until a few weeks ago, when the horror of the truth really started settling into his bones: you weren’t going to fall in love with him by the time you turn 30. and without even really realizing it, he started distancing himself from you, deluded into thinking it would be easier to let go if he just put a little space between the two of you. he knew it was hurting you just as much as it was hurting him, and he knew you didn’t deserve it.

it’s against his hardwiring to do anything that hurts you, and it’s reflected in how terrible his life has become in just a handful of weeks. his apartment has been filthy; the only reason it was ready for your party was because he paid the housekeeper double to come even though he wasn’t scheduled to clean for another week. his work is fortunately still fine, but he spends whole days with horrible brain fog, hardly understanding or even hearing anything anyone says to him. he hasn’t seen any friends—mutual or otherwise—because he spends all his free time in bed or drinking himself into a sobbing mess.

that’s all he can seem to do these days, is cry over you.

soonyoung steps out into the balcony attached to his bedroom, leaning against the sliding door once it’s closed. he cranes his neck to look up toward the midnight sky, and takes a deep breath. it doesn’t help keep the tears at bay. he keeps his head tilted up.

he knows you don’t deserve this. he knows you’re hurting and that you feel him slipping away. he saw it. just now, just before you blew your candles out, he saw the way the joy and life immediately fled your eyes when they landed on him. he wonders what you saw. did you see the apathy he was desperately forcing? did you see how sad he was at all?

because he is. he’s the saddest he’s felt since you told him you would rather be on vacation with someone you were in love with seven years ago. someone who wasn’t him. maybe he’s even sadder now. at least back then, he was foolish enough to hope you would change your mind. at least back then, he had time on his side.

now, it’s over, and now, it’s time to give himself a fair chance to move on. you don’t deserve what he’s putting you through, and it’s true for him too. he doesn’t deserve what he’s put himself through for the last decade.

countless nights you fell asleep at his place, countless times he wished he could gather you up in his arms and carry you into a bed you shared. all the times you told him you loved him and he desperately wanted to beg you to repeat it, even if it was just so he could pretend you meant it the way he needed you to mean it. whole weeks spent overseas on all kinds of vacations, time he spent daydreaming that this was what a honeymoon with you could feel like.

it all adds up to a decade of putting his heart on the backburner so he could allow himself to continue loving you.

soonyoung scoffs at himself when the tears refuse to stop welling in his eyes. he shakes his head and steps forward, resting his forearms against his railing and staring at the blackness in front of him.

part of him hates the version of himself from seven years ago that thought making this stupid promise was a good idea. what good can come from not loving you? but the reason he’s stuck to pulling away and holding you at arm’s distance is because that version of himself somehow knew the pain would grow more and more, year after year.

he can’t do this for the rest of his life—can’t just keep making room for more heartache the older he gets. you’re 30 now, and even though you insist you’re fine and have no desire to date, he knows you’ll get restless soon. and when he thinks of you finally deciding you want to have a boyfriend, he wants to vomit. when he thinks of some other asshole’s hands on you, his lips on yours—when he thinks of you sighing anyone’s name but his, he gets near homicidal over something that isn’t even real. at least not yet.

soonyoung doesn’t want to wait for that to happen. he doesn’t want to wait for you to hate him for being unable to share you—and he won’t be able to share you. he also doesn’t want you to have to face the pressure of having to choose between a best friend and a boyfriend.

instead, he’d rather you start to hate him slowly, over time. he’d rather you allow him his space and not even realize you hate him for slipping away and leaving you behind—not until it’s years later, when you hear his name in passing, and you think, he just left, and you tell yourself it’s fine because your life is better without him anyway.

it hurts you now, but it’ll hurt less later. it’ll hurt less for both of you to endure this silence now, rather than fight until there’s nothing but resentment.

the door behind soonyoung slides open forcefully and slams closed a moment later. he flinches, looking over his shoulder to see who entered his room and ready to tell them to get out. when he sees you, though, he turns back away, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes.

“what are you doing?”

he quietly clears his throat, hoping he doesn’t sound too worn when he speaks. “just needed some air.”

“no.”

you say it in that tone that always scared him a little. it’s when he knew you were about to get your way. he wasn’t interested in doing the whole fighting thing with you; he just gave you whatever you wanted the moment this voice came out of your mouth. it always drew a smile out of you and it made his life easier.

this is about to be the one and only time he can’t let you have your way.

“what are you doing?”

soonyoung squeezes his eyes shut, like that will help him brace himself against the conversation he has to have with you.

this was coming, he tells himself. you knew this was coming. she was never just going to let you go without an explanation.

“why are you ignoring me?” you ask, voice cracking. it takes everything in him to stay where he stands and keep from wrapping his arms around you, apologizing, and begging you to stop crying. “why are you avoiding me? why are you acting like i’m not your best friend?”

soonyoung opens his eyes and almost laughs. best friend. he doesn’t know when the term became so derogatory to him. anyone would be lucky to be in your life, let alone be your best friend. he hates it anyway.

he’s your best friend. you’re not his. he would never dream of calling you that—at least not without calling you the love of his life first. his most beloved. the woman he would give anything to marry. on the totem pole of things he wants to call you, best friend is at the bottom.

“because you’re not,” he says honestly. he immediately regrets it when he hears the small whimper that escapes you. “at least, i don’t want you to be,” he adds, hoping it will soften the blow of what he just said.

“what are you saying?”

soonyoung feels so tired and sad and heartbroken. he hangs his head a little as he takes a deep breath.

“what are you saying, soonyoung?” you repeat when he doesn’t answer immediately. patience was never your strong suit.

when he’s sure he’s not going to start sobbing upon turning, he finally faces you, and even then, he can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. if he does, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do this.

“do you remember your 23rd birthday?” he asks, gaze fixed on the stain on his balcony where you dropped a smoothie and he insisted you leave it instead of cleaning it. he forgot to do it himself and now he has a permanent reminder of how whipped he is for you.

“siquijor,” you basically spit at him. he feels your walls coming up. he feels your defenses getting ready, and he knows you’re aware of what he’s about to do. “what about it?”

siquijor. the best and worst trip of his life.

“i think i’m drunk,” you announced, words slurring so badly, soonyoung was convinced anyone else wouldn’t be able to understand what you were saying.

“what?” he asked sarcastically. “no way. what makes you say that?”

soonyoung loved being sober when you were drunk like this. he loved hearing and seeing all the silly shit you’d never say or do sober. most of all, he loved taking care of you. he loved pretending he meant something more to you and this was just another boyfriend duty of his—making sure his drunk girlfriend was happy and hydrated and safe, and that when she woke up, she had a lineup of hangover cures at her disposal.

you answered with the gnarliest burp. he burst into loud laughter, grateful the beach was far enough away from any rooms that the two of you weren’t disturbing anyone.

after a few moments, he realized you weren’t laughing along, simply leaning back on your elbows in the sand, smiling softly at him. he did what he does best: he pretended. he pretended you were just a lovesick girl staring at someone she yearned for. he pretended you wanted him just as badly as he needed you. he pretended you were in love.

“penny for your thoughts, you drunkard?”

you giggled, slipping off of your elbows and laying all the way down. he joined you, both of you looking up at the sky. it was different here than it was back home. it was quiet and warm and there was no light to disrupt the view of the stars. he loved that he was seeing something like this for the first time with you.

“my thoughts are worth more than a penny.”

he snorted. even drunk, you were a brat. “nickel?”

“nice try. a hundred bucks, buddy.”

“ha!” he shouted. “never mind, keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“soonie!” you half whined, half burped. he made a face of disgust at you. he thought he did a good job of hiding how endeared he was.

“gross.” soonyoung sighed, turning back to the sky. “fifty.”

you giggled. “deal.” there was no way in hell you were going to remember he owed you $50. “i’m thinking… i am having the best time of my life.”

his heart swelled knowing he did well for your birthday celebration.

he let his head loll to the side, watching you. you had your hands folded politely over your ribs and your legs were crossed at the ankles, your feet swaying side to side like there was a song playing that only you could hear. if soonyoung concentrated hard enough, he thought he could hear it too. it sounded like what he imagined his love for you would if it were a song.

you smiled at the stars like you were talking to them.

“i’m so happy,” you said. “best birthday ever, soonyoung. best month ever. thank you. i love you so much.”

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he said, voice coming out barely above a whisper. “i love you too.” so god damn much.

you turned to look at him when he said that, your smile fading naturally the longer you looked at him. “i…” you trailed off, frowning a little before you continued. “i think… i think i feel lonely, though.”

he mirrored your frown, immediately bringing his body closer to yours. he rested a hand on top of yours. “what’s wrong?”

you opened your mouth but before you could start speaking, you were suddenly crying.

“y/n?” he sat up, bringing you up with him. “what’s wrong, baby?” his eyes widened at the slip-up, but you were too drunk to notice, frantically wiping the tears that kept streaming down your face.

“i’m so happy,” you breathed, hand still in his. “this is everything i’ve ever wanted. this is everything i could ever dream of having.”

your words were still slurred and with the addition of the crying to your inebriated state, you’re hiccuping badly as you speak.

“then why are you crying?” he asked. “why do you feel lonely?”

“this is what i want from y—from…” you hiccuped again. “this is everything i want from someone i’m in love with.”

he felt his heart drop into his stomach, and he couldn’t help the way his hand stiffened in yours. he pulled away.

“oh” was all he could bring himself to say.

what else was he supposed to say to that?

“i’m in love with you. please let me be the one that gets to give this to you.”

“please love me.”

“please don’t break my heart like this.”

he couldn’t say any of it.

“i want you to want… i want…” you kept hiccuping, and despite feeling like his heart was breaking into smithereens, soonyoung found it in himself to rub your back comfortingly. “i want—” you cut yourself off with another hiccup.

“shhh.” it came out in a daze. the sky looked darker. the stars looked duller. the water wasn’t as bright anymore. “it’s okay. it’s okay.” he didn’t know if he was telling you or himself. “it’s okay.”

soonyoung pulled you into his arms, still rubbing your back as he tucked your head under his chin. he didn’t bother trying to find the right words to tell you; he knew you probably wouldn’t remember any of this. so he allowed himself to feel heartbroken as you wept and hiccuped until eventually, you fell asleep.

and when you did, it was his turn. he silently cried until the sun came up, and when it did, soonyoung gathered you up in his arms and carried you back—only as a friend, to a bed you’d never share.

“it hurt,” he says, tears finally beginning to stream down his face.

soonyoung never shied away from crying in front of you; he did it kind of often. but there’s something especially humiliating about it now. he’s wrapped up in his sadness, and it’s suffocating him, making it hard to speak. he thinks if he does, he might choke on his grief.

“it hurt more than anything i’ve ever felt, y/n,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. he isn’t sure if you heard him, but he can’t bring himself to repeat it.

your hands close over his, where they hold the lapel of his jacket around your shoulders. he doesn’t even know when he took it off to put it on you. loving you was exactly like that—an instinct he didn’t have to think twice about. loving you was just something that happened without his knowledge or permission.

“soonyoung,” you call his name, high and desperate. your defenses have come down. you’re not using that scary voice on him anymore. you’re not bracing yourself. he thinks you should be. “that’s not what i meant. i—”

“it’s okay,” he breathes, so many tears in his eyes, he can barely make out the shape of you. he blinks rapidly to expel them. “i’ve had time to—”

“but if you would just let me ex—”

“there’s nothing to explain,” he interjects softly, eyes coming to you now that he can properly see past his tears. “i stayed around, didn’t i?”

your fight falters and you stop trying to talk over him.

“i stayed for seven more years. if i needed you to explain, i would’ve asked the second you woke up sober.”

your shoulders fall and he knows the rest of your fight has dissipated into the night. the next question you ask almost breaks his resolve. “only seven?”

the question comes out small and quiet and defeated, and soonyoung feels his lips tremble. he rolls them between his teeth to stop himself from telling you something he doesn’t want to say: no, of course not only seven. you’ll have me wrapped around your finger until the day i die.

he takes his hands back from under your hold once he’s absolutely sure he won’t say something that would disappoint the version of him that sat on that beach in siquijor, swearing that he wouldn’t let himself feel that heartbroken in the next decade of his life.

“i didn’t mind waiting seven more years to see if you would ever return my feelings,” he says instead of answering you, fully aware of how badly his voice wavers as he speaks. “my friends, they told me i was insane for letting my 20s go to waste like that. but to me… if i still got to be around you, still give you experiences and love that made you feel like that’s what you deserved from someone you actually were in love with, then… i can’t see the issue in that. i’d happily wait seven more years. because even if it was seven years of the same longing—and even if it was seven years leading to nothing more, it was still seven years of me being able to show you how well i could…”

he swallows the lump in his throat and fails. he shakes his head and just says what he should’ve told you seven years ago.

“how well i could love you. how much i do love you.”

you look dumbfounded, and if this were any other situation—if soonyoung didn’t feel like he was actually fucking dying—he thinks he’d make fun of you. your eyes are the widest he’s ever seen them, and your mouth is parted like you’re poised to say something but you don’t even know what.

“soonie—” you start.

he doesn’t let you finish. he can’t. he’s so close to ending this—to doing the worst thing he’s ever going to have to do—and if he lets you finish, he’ll lose the courage to walk away.

“i told myself… while you slept in my lap on that beach in siquijor, that if by the time you turned 30, we still hadn’t moved past… this…” he can’t stand the look of horror on your face as you start to process what he’s saying. he looks at the sky behind your head instead. “then, i wouldn’t spend my 30s torturing myself anymore. i’d let you go.”

you don’t let even a millisecond pass before you practically scream: “i don’t want you to let me go!” at him so forcefully, he flinches. “i don’t want you to let me go, you stupid idiot! if that’s what you’ve been doing the last, few weeks, ‘letting me go’—” you make exaggerated air quotes with your fingers and a face that tells him you think he’s ridiculous. it catches him so off-guard, he almost laughs. “—then knock it off!”

you slap his chest to each word to punctuate your point.

“wh—?” he brings his arm up reflexively to defend himself.

“what i meant to tell you, it came out wrong,” you inform him. his arms slowly fall back to his side as he listens to you as closely as he can. “i didn’t even mean to tell you anything, but if drunk me outed me like that, i need you to know that’s not what i meant.”

the words came out of your mouth in a rush like you thought soonyoung wouldn’t let you say them if you took too long. when he doesn’t say anything in the brief silence, you take a deep breath, obviously trying to steady yourself.

“i was lonely. i was really lonely,” you admit, seeming to remember the feeling more than you did the actual conversation. “and yes, it was because i enjoyed that vacation so much and yes, it was because i wished i could have it with someone i was in love with, but i was having it with someone i was in love with!”

everything in soonyoung’s body tenses, like his own defenses are coming up—like this is some kind of joke and his body is preparing to be laughed at. because you just said you were on vacation with someone you were in love with in the philippines… but you were on vacation with him in the philippines…

his body braces itself.

“i just meant i wanted it to mean more for both of us,” you continue, hands waving erratically between you to drive your point home. “i wanted to be on vacation with you!”

your brows furrow and your lips thin as you helplessly fight off a wave of tears he knows is pushing to be released. he knows that when you’re too emotional—whether it’s sadness, joy, rage—you cry, and once you do, you end up blubbering for so long, you usually end up asleep at the end of it.

but still, you bravely fight it off, obviously determined to tell soonyoung what you need to.

“but you as my boyfriend! not you as my best friend! there’s no one else i would’ve wanted to be with, soonyoung!”

he’s glad his body is stiff enough to keep his knees from immediately giving out under him. because all soonyoung wants to do now is fall to the floor and cry. cry because he never thought you’d say these words, because he felt like he was getting back something he lost on the beaches of siquijor, because the two of you wasted a decade dancing around each other instead of just fucking saying something.

“do you think i’ve been single our entire friendship for fun?!” you shriek the question through tears. “do you think it’s fun being the 30-year-old virgin who’s never even kissed anyone?! because it’s not!”

you whined about this often early on in your friendship, but eventually the complaints petered out, and he would drive himself crazy wondering if it was because that changed—if someone else had taken those firsts.

did it happen?

she would tell me.

right?

no, i’m still a dude. that’s weird, she’d probably tell a girl.

no no, i’m her stupid ass best friend. she would tell me!

oh my god, would she tell me?

what if i just die?

and so the cycle would go. he knows it wasn’t any of his business and that if you had lost those firsts to someone else, that was your prerogative, but still, he feels relieved to hear that isn’t the case.

and he knows he has no right to—not when you haven’t had the proper conversation to hash things out yet—but he suddenly feels an overwhelming possessiveness for you. because he waited for you. no one was ever going to make him stray away from you, so he waited for you—never expecting, just hoping. sorely hoping. and now he knows you waited for him too, and now… now, all he can think about is making you his. all soonyoung can think about now is giving you all the things you abstained from in the hopes you’d have it with him of all people.

it’s what you deserve, isn’t it? for waiting? and isn’t he in the business of giving you what you deserve? his hand twitches, begging him to reach for you and kiss you stupid.

“but i didn’t want anyone else! i wanted you!” you point at him almost violently, and his heart grows too big for his chest. “you waited seven years, but i waited ten! TEN, soonyoung! do you—”

his willpower can only withstand so much. at the end of the day, soonyoung is just a man who’s pathetically in love with you, and hearing you say you wanted him—hearing you confirm you waited your entire friendship just for the chance to have him and be with him and only him—it completely undoes his entire being.

soonyoung’s mouth is on yours before his brain can fully process what’s happening. he feels the shock on your lips for only a moment before you’re moving. despite it being your first kiss, you respond quickly, your body knowing exactly what to do with soonyoung’s like it’s second nature.

you taste like tears and champagne, and even with all the extravagant dinners he’s taken you on and the places around the world you’ve traveled to together, this is the best thing he’s ever tasted.

soonyoung thinks he’s happy to stand here, kissing you and tasting you and listening to your cute, little breaths against him forever. but then your hands start exploring him—his hips, his waist, his chest, before wrapping around his neck and bringing him in to kiss you even deeper. and he knows immediately that all the strength he mustered up to deal with tonight is gone. the moan that comes up his throat is loud and bordering on obscene, but you smile upon taking it into your own mouth, as if you’re feeding on his desire. as if you love the taste of it.

soonyoung doesn’t wait after that. he can’t wait after that. without letting your lips separate, he guides you back into his room, careful to keep you from tripping over the threshold and all the crap he left on the floor when he was busy having his pity parties.

he lays you in his bed gently, thankful that even though it’s unmade, he at least had the housekeeper wash his sheets. he lays on top of you, trying not to let his weight crush you, but when you wrap your arms around him, you press him to your body as close as it can possibly go, and after he releases his entire weight on you, you hold him like even that still isn’t close enough.

it’s all so much. after spending so long hoping you’d one day want him even a fraction as much as he wants you, tasting the excitement on you and feeling the adoration in your hands as they feel every surface of his body they could reach—it’s so much.

it wears down his self-restraint.

you don’t seem to mind, though, because when he runs his tongue along your lips, asking permission for more, you open your mouth immediately. and when his tongue slips in and meets yours, the moan he gets back is so loud and uninhibited and hot, he feels it in his dick.

you giggle a little, and though you recover quickly and continue trying to make out with him after that, the sound delights him enough that he stops to look at you. your makeup is tear stained and your eyes are still a little red, but you look worlds different than you did just a few minutes ago. there’s no tightness in your smile, no devastation in your eyes, no anger furrowed into your brows. when he looks at you this close, he realizes he’s never seen you this happy, this excited, or this light—like you’ve been relieved of a burden that was too heavy for you. but really, the most different thing about you now is that you just look like you’re his.

“what’s so funny, hm?” he asks, resting his forehead on yours. at the start of this night, he didn’t think he would ever hear you giggle again.

“nothing,” you claim, even though your voice still has traces of amusement somewhere in there. your hand snakes up into his hair and starts scratching his scalp. he hums at the sensation. “i love you, soonyoung.”

he lifts his forehead to look at you. it’s his millionth time hearing you say that. it’s the first time he’s hearing it in the context he’s wished to hear it for the last decade.

you love him. you love him. you love him.

“i’ve always loved you,” you announce unabashedly. “from the very start.”

in retrospect, the proper thing to do would’ve been to tell you he loved you too—so much that he didn’t even know how to process it well enough to attempt to put it into words. but instead, he pushes himself off you, slightly ashamed that your confession made his dick go from semi-hard to rock hard in record time, but insanely elated (and painfully and obviously turned on) at the idea of you having spent your entire friendship loving him just as much.

when he sits back, his pants uncomfortably pull against his erection, and he winces, glancing down at it and silently scolding it to stop embarrassing him and have some goddamn decorum.

he clears his throat and looks back at you, where you’re now propped up on your elbows, smiling at his crotch like it’s already yours. it ruins him.

soonyoung is going to tell you he loves you. and sure, you already know because he already did, but now he gets to tell you knowing you feel the same. so he’s going to tell you, and he’s going to say it over and over and over again, but once he does, he gets the feeling that he won’t want to stop at just kissing you.

he knows it’s probably a lot—to go from what you were to… this, and on top of that, lose your first kiss. and even though you made it clear that he’s the only reason you even remained a virgin, he doesn’t want to assume you’re ready to do something as big as have sex for the first time tonight too.

soonyoung wishes he could be a bigger person than the horny teenager he feels like right now. he wishes he could stop this for the both of you and insist on having a conversation first before things get any further like a proper adult would. but you want him and you love him, and it’s driving him absolutely fucking crazy, and if he gets any harder, his dick is going to start hurting.

“how far?” he asks, his voice so pathetically needy, he wants to die. “i don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured. i just…” he falters, trying to find a way to say this without making it sound like it’s all he wants from you. “we wasted so much time.” not a great start. “and i—”

“all the way,” you say, a coy smile on your lips when you interrupt him. his pants stretch even tighter.

it’s clear he was worrying for nothing; from the way you look at him, he knows you understand what he’s desperately trying to say and failing.

he watches you with heavy-lidded eyes as you lay yourself back down and wrap your legs around his torso, doing nothing when your already short dress rides all the way up to expose you.

“please,” you add on so sweetly, he groans. he won’t be lasting long at all tonight.

soonyoung rests his hands on your thighs, thumbs instinctively rubbing circles into the soft skin there as he tries to take a moment to process everything in front of him. he knows if he doesn’t, the excitement will paint over his memories with zero remorse, and all he’ll remember is that it happened—not what he said, did, or heard. and this is absolutely something he needs to remember.

he has to remember the way your knees quickly and easily fall apart and away from each other at his touch—almost like they’re sighing in relief at his arrival. he has to remember how your lower back arches and your pelvis wriggles underneath his fingertips before he’s even really done anything to you. soonyoung’s gaze rakes over your figure, taking note of every, little thing he can, when finally, they land on something that lays his fears to rest.

because there is no way he’ll ever forget the moment his eyes found the space between your legs. he stares at you now—right on the spot where your panties are already drenched with your arousal. soonyoung doesn’t care how overwhelming his excitement is right now; there is simply no possible way his brain will be able to gloss over this no matter how many years pass: the moment he saw physical evidence of just how much you craved him and needed him. how much you’ve deprived yourself of him.

and now, he gets to give you anything and everything you want from him.

his hands begin to travel up your thighs, goosebumps following the trail of his fingertips. he stops just shy of your cunt, trying to breathe deeply enough to calm his thunderous heartbeat. if he gets too lost in this, he’ll cum in his pants, and he will never forgive himself.

he stares hard at your desire, just barely able to keep from screaming when he realizes the dark spot is slowly growing the longer he sits there, unmoving. you squirm under him, and his hands involuntarily squeeze in response. your thighs are plush in his grasp, so full and beautiful, your flesh is forcing its way into the spaces between his fingers and turning white from hard he grips you.

don’t fucking cum right now, you loser, he thinks hard to himself. you cannot cum before anything happens during your first time with y/n. he exhales deeply and slowly. i will literally kill you if you cum right now.

he’s so tempted to look you in the eye just to see if you’re struggling even a fraction of the amount that he is, but he knows eye contact with you right now will just set his progress back.

when he’s mostly confident he won’t immediately finish in his pants, he has to swallow the idiotic smile that threatens to take over his entire face. finally, soonyoung gives in and he moves. just one finger, pressed against the part of your panties that sinks just a tiny bit more than the rest—right where he plans to be in the next few minutes, stuffing you full as far as he’ll go.

as soon as you feel his fingertip brush against your entrance, your hole pulses like it’s trying to clamp around something bigger than his finger that isn’t there. he feels some of the control he has on that pathetic smile of his slip, and as if it’s an avalanche, the rest of his control comes crashing down. without thinking about it, his finger sinks the tiniest bit deeper as he drags it up your slit, the wetness from your panties catching on his skin ever so slightly.

when his finger finds and presses on your clit, you begin uncontrollably writhing and gasping beneath him, and his eyes tear themselves away from your cunt long enough to finally meet your gaze. you look at him with so much lust and love and longing—all of it so loudly desperate—he completely loses track of where his finger is and what it’s doing. all he wants to do is latch his lips onto yours again and say what he should’ve at least ten times by now: that he loves you.

so instead of rubbing your clit until he teases your first orgasm out of you like he planned to, he removes his hand from your center so that he can lean forward and kiss you senseless. but as soon as his touch leaves you, a strangled whine forces its way up your throat and past your lips, making him laugh immediately.

“what?” you ask, your eyes narrowing at him. it should invoke fear in him, but he’s too endeared for that. “why are you laughing?! did i do something embarrassing?”

soonyoung scoffs as he brings himself over you. “‘embarrassing’? no, baby.” he rolls his eyes. “your neediness is not ‘embarrassing.’ it’s fucking hot.”

you turn the prettiest shade of pink. “shut up.”

he grins. “gladly.”

soonyoung kisses your nose, enjoying the shade of pink it turned under your blush. then, he kisses your lips, just for a moment so that he can lean back and look you in the eye when he says:

“i love you. i love you so god damn much, i thought i was going to die having to leave you.”

he knows it’s dramatic, but he was convinced that’s exactly what was happening to him not even an hour ago. the thought of doing life without you by his side made everything look and feel so colorless and dull and boring and ugly. dead was as good a word as any to describe what his life would look like without you.

“you’re not leaving me,” you say so matter-of-factly, the smile it brings to his face hurts his cheeks. he was so dumb to think he could; even if he had all the strength in the world to end your friendship, you would’ve never let him off the hook that easily.

“i’m not,” he says.

soonyoung gets to work covering you in as many kisses as humanly possible, his lips pressing against your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone—wherever you have skin, his lips are all over it. your gasps and moans reach a fever pitch, and he figures it’s time to stop making you wait.

“you tell me if you want to stop, okay?” he asks, lips brushing against your ears as he speaks. “and we’ll stop, no questions asked.”

you nod so eagerly—so obediently—he can’t help but smirk. his tongue darts out to lick your lobe and bring it between his teeth to nip at before he starts kissing his way down your body.

“you sound so pretty,” he tells you as you continue to make sure he knows exactly how good you feel. all moans and groans and whispered begging. “exactly how i imagined you’d sound.” his lips graze your already hard nipples through the fabric of your dress and he earns another loud whimper. “fuck, even better actually.”

he pulls your dress down and off one shoulder to expose the breast he was just teasing, and when he sees you bare, he hangs his head, letting his forehead meet your chest as he grunts loudly.

what is my life? he thinks to himself. this is literally insane.

soonyoung flattens his tongue against your nipple, and you inhale sharply, your hips immediately bucking up. he doesn’t realize his eyes have fluttered closed until he opens them to look at you and make sure you’re okay. from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth hangs open in dazed ecstasy, he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re okay.

“soonyoung.”

god, his name sounds so good when you say it, especially when you say it like this.

“fuck,” he grumbles against your tit. he swears his dick is throbbing from how hard you have him.

“lower! please, god, lower!” you order him.

“whatever you want,” he breathes against your skin.

but he’s not moving before he has the chance to leave a tiny, little something that can lay claim to you—something only he and you will see. he presses his hand against the side of your breast, groaning at how full you are in his palm. he leans down and bites into the flesh just above your nipple. your hips jerk up as he sucks on the spot just long enough that he knows it will stay a few days. he smiles when he releases you, the hickey already turning a beautiful purple.

“pretty,” he mutters. he wants to cover you in them. he kisses the mark gently before removing the other strap of your dress.

with the bottom of your dress completely ridden up and the top half bunched around your waist, you’re almost completely naked, and already, soonyoung can hardly refrain from jumping off his bed and running around the room screaming.

fucking breathe, bro.

he gently lifts your hips up and off the bed so that he can slip both your dress and your ruined panties off your body in one go. once he does, all the refraining he’s been doing tonight comes to a brusque end.

“oh my god!” he shouts, burying his face into your clothes and groaning into them. “i can’t believe this is my life right now, oh my god.”

soonyoung presses your clothes against his eyes so hard, he thinks he should see stars, but still, all he can see are your perfect tits and your bare, glistening cunt and the sensual look in your eyes like they’re all forever burned into his retinas. or maybe his eyes are open?

he blinks and brings your clothes down just enough to be able to take a peek at you. nope, the image of your naked body in his bed are definitely just burned into his eyeballs.

“oh my god, i really have you naked in my bed right now, oh my god oh my god oh my god.” he probably says it 20 more times. he’s not sure.

“soonyoung!” you berate his behavior the way you always do. he smiles into your dress because even as everything is literally changing before his eyes… nothing has. you’re still his best friend, pretending to get mad at him for being silly. he knows from the fond way you look at him that you aren’t mad at all. “focus! come on, you’re just teasing me now. please.”

“okay, okay!” he says, voice muffled by your dress. “i’m so sorry, i’m not trying to tease you, i swear. i just…” he stammers, unable to stop the whole bunch of nothing that comes spilling out of his mouth. “i’m—just, i—it’s just, like… what?” the question comes out as a laugh. “y’know?”

you raise an eyebrow at him and he realizes he isn’t really sure what he’s asking you.

“like, what the actual fuck?” he adds like that will help explain.

you groan. “it’s crazy how quickly you go from sex god to loser.”

soonyoung feels his face immediately fall into a glare—one you’re used to seeing whenever you two bicker. “you know…” he says, eyes narrowed at you. “my favorite thing about you has always been your patience.”

he throws your clothes aside, hands going to his shirt to begin unbuttoning it.

“good thing i have a lot of it then,” you claim. your bratty smirk falls right off your face as you watch him slowly undress.

“right.”

when he shrugs his shirt off and lets it join your clothes on the floor, your eyes widen like you’re seeing him shirtless for the first time. your eyes sweep up and down his torso, your chest heaving as you begin to breathe harder, and it almost makes him shy—almost makes him want to hug himself and jokingly tell you to stop ogling him like a piece of meat. but he also enjoys it more than anything.

so many times you’ve been half naked together, wearing swimsuits at the beach or at the pool, and although he’s relished having your eyes on him before, this feels different. you stare at him shamelessly now, making no move to avert your eyes the way you used to. this is where he would make a joke to lighten the mood—to give you an out from a situation you might feel caged in by.

this time, he just allows himself the space to revel in this feeling of being adored.

“wait,” you say suddenly when he stands up off the bed and his hands start undoing his belt. you crawl over to him, completely naked, and he thinks he might have a heart attack watching you on all fours like this.

“change your mind? it’s fine if you do,” he assures you, already fastening his belt before his dick can get any more ideas about where the night is going.

“no,” you laugh as you rest your hands on top of his. “i’m not going to change my mind, soonie.”

you sound as sure as he does about this. it relaxes him immediately. you smile at him before you press your naked body against his, tangle your hands in his hair, and bring his face down to lock lips with you again. he holds you delicately as your tongues slide against each other—different from how he’s pressed, tugged, and groped at you tonight. he forces himself to be gentler. he forces himself to slow down and enjoy the feeling of being in love with you openly.

he says as much. “i love you. oh my god, i love you. holy shit.”

“don’t start with the loser behavior again, please,” you mutter against the kiss. he wants to laugh, but he doesn’t dare leave your lips. “but i love you too.”

soonyoung doesn’t think he’ll get tired of hearing it. the past 10 years of his life have led up to this moment. it will take so much more than that for him to ever get used to the feeling of you telling him you love him.

he rests his forehead against yours and smiles. “i’m so happy.”

“me too, soonie.”

he watches as your hands leave his hair and travel down his chest, taking their time to trace every line and curve of every muscle. you finish the job of undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, and that’s about all he can take before he decides it’s time to stop holding back.

before you can even touch his zipper, he grabs your face and kisses you roughly, tongue twisting with yours immediately. he kisses you like he’s held his breath for 10 years and you’re air. you kiss him back the same, exact way.

he finishes undressing, kicking his pants away and wasting no time picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he does. his cock twitches violently once it’s sandwiched between you and his stomach, and he has you laying back in his bed in mere seconds.

our bed, a voice in his head reminds him. a bed we can share. if you want.

when you tear yourself away from him to catch your breath, your eyes immediately go south, and he doesn’t have to follow your gaze to know what you’re gaping at.

“see something you like?”

you don’t even pretend to hear what he said. “uh, what?”

it inflates his ego to unprecedented levels, but he doesn’t gloat and annoy you the way he usually would. mostly because his laughs are cut off with your frantic begging.

“soonyoung,” you whisper so suddenly and seriously, he freezes. “put it in me.”

the order catches him by so much surprise, he laughs even harder than before. “i can’t just put it in you.”

you shove him and he pushes off the bed to put some space in between you. he looks at you, amused. “what?! what do you mean you can’t just put it in me?” you sound the most offended he’s ever heard you. “is that not how sex works? you put that in me? like… over and over again?

“baby, please,” his laughs are bordering on uncontrollable wheezing. “you’re making this so unsexy.”

“you made it unsexy first!” you complain. “put it in me, soonyoung!”

he wants to keep pretending that this is incredibly unsexy, but this exchange, however goofy, is just making him want to fuck you even more. “stop saying that!”

“why?! you keep making me wait!”

the way you complain and beg makes soonyoung briefly forget that you’re losing your virginity, and he isn’t letting that happen without proper foreplay first—without getting at least one orgasm out of you.

“pu—”

before you can tell him to put it in you again, he presses his hand against your mouth. “okay!” he says, raising his voice to drown out your muffled pleas. “okay! shhh. relax, and i will. alright?” your eyes widen and he feels a burn in his stomach when he sees the submission in them. you nod. “good girl.”

you moan into his hand and grind your hips up into his.

“oh, you like that?” he asks, smirking. all you do is squirm more.

he releases your mouth, and when you stay silent on your own accord—so willingly compliant—he thinks there are a few things he’d like to try in bed later on down the line.

soonyoung plants a wet kiss on your lips before he rests his hand against your neck, eyes watching as you swallow underneath his fingertips. he thinks you look pretty like this: bare throat adorned by his fingers. he has a passing thought to ask you if you would ever be into being choked, but there’s no fucking way he’d do that during your first time having sex. he lets the thought go, making note of it for a later time.

“so pretty,” he says, finger tapping your lower lip. when you take his finger into your mouth all the way, sucking it and releasing it with a pop, he has to spend a few moments reminding himself he can’t cum already. “jesus christ…” he sighs. he needs to move fast or he will be embarrassing himself tonight. “let me know if i do anything you don’t like, okay?”

you nod quickly—impatiently. your enthusiasm stutters when he doesn’t immediately “put it in” like you’ve been begging. you frown as he pulls away again, but when he settles with his head between your legs, your tune changes immediately.

“oh.”

soonyoung has dreamed about this moment for so long. he’s had obscene, vulgar thoughts about you—thoughts he would touch himself to. he’s spent an embarrassing amount of nights moaning your name while vigorously grinding into his fist, and all it took for him to cum was the thought of tasting you. he didn’t even have to think about fucking into your pussy or how wet you would be or how warm you would feel—all he thought about was eating you out until you came all over his face, and that would do it for him.

if he was looking to get a quick orgasm, maybe release some frustration from a day spent hanging out with you, he’d just rub one out in the shower. but if it was one of those nights he was tossing and turning, thinking about how much he loved you and how much he wanted you to be his, he’d throw his blankets off, grab a bottle of lotion, a box of tissues, and sometimes, when he was feeling especially depraved, his favorite photos he’s taken of you. there was something about looking at photos no one else has seen of you—no matter how ordinary or innocent—that turned him on.

his daydreams always started with getting you sinfully wet. yes, with your own arousal, but with his spit too. he’d massage it into your clit, mixing the both of you and your pleasures together until your hips are bucking and shoving your needy cunt in his face. then, he’d give in and lap your clit gently and the first taste would send his eyes rolling into the back of his head. he would try to stay cool and composed, but realistically, he knew tasting you would send him into a frenzy.

he’d already be close by this point in his fantasies, whining and groaning, his phone and photos of you long forgotten because he has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from coming before he could finish playing everything out in his head.

because soonyoung couldn’t cum before his favorite part: when he would imagine shoving his face as far in between your legs as he could, extending his tongue as far into you as humanly possible. you’d say his name the way no one has ever said his name. you’d pull at his hair until he was sure you were permanently damaging all of his follicles. sometimes, he’d immediately cum after this. other times, he’d be able to at least get to the part where he starts fucking you with his fingers.

on lucky days, he would reach the end of his dreams. by this time, he’d be feverishly tugging on his cock, a mess of sweat and whimpers of your name as he thought about you squirting all over his face. he would drink you up like it’s the fucking elixir of life. you would make the filthiest mess of his face—chin dripping, cheeks sticky, lips swollen and covered in you—and he would thank you for it and beg for more. of course, more would never come because he would make a mess of his own hand after that.

he always felt like a pervert after—always felt so guilty picturing his best friend like this and doing something so dirty with you in mind—but the next night would come and the next night and the next, and he couldn’t think of anything else. anyone else.

and as lewd and impure and delicious and downright euphoric as his fantasies were, nothing could have prepared him for how much fucking better the real thing would feel. how much better the real you would taste.

by the time you cum on his face, not once but twice, he knows this is something he can do for the rest of his life. he would never even need you to fuck him or blow him or give him a handjob; all he literally needs is to devour your cunt any time you’d grant him the privilege to and he’d be a happy man for the rest of his life.

you’re still panting, chest heaving from your orgasms, when soonyoung climbs up over you once more and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing, nipping, licking, and whispering i-love-yous from your collarbone and up until he reaches your lips. he kisses you lightly just in case you don’t want to put your lips on him after he just ate you out, but when you deepen the kiss and hug him even closer, he thinks you might actually like the taste of you on his mouth.

“soonie,” you eventually whisper against him.

“mmm?”

you say something that he’s been wanting to hear for a decade. you confirm something he’s been desperately searching for signs of for your entire friendship. “i want to be yours. i want to be yours so bad.”

he stops peppering you with kisses and watches you carefully, like this all might still be a hallucination that will fade if he gets too lost in the moment. but you remain where you are, looking at him with as much love as he imagines he’s always looked at you. tears gather in your eyes, some escaping the corners. he catches every single one that does, pressing it back into your skin with his finger.

when you give him a small smile to tell him you’re okay—that these are just tears of happiness—he leans in, presses his cheek to yours, and promises you, “then i’ll make you mine.”

just being inside you is enough to make soonyoung want to cry. he does his absolute fucking best not to because you already are and he doesn’t want you to think of anything other than yourself and your pleasure during your first time. but he wants to cry as he buries his face into your neck and slowly pushes into you, only moving whenever you say it’s okay to.

when he woke up today, he did it with swollen eyes from a night spent crying over you. he tortured himself all day, thinking about how every last time he had with you was the last and he didn’t even know it—the last laugh he heard, the last smile he saw, the last time you bickered with him, the last time you told him you loved him. he steeled himself to face your tears or your screaming or whatever else you did to him when he ended your friendship.

at the start of the day, soonyoung was preparing for his life to be over—for you to take every good thing he’s ever had and felt with you when he forced you to walk away.

now, he’s fully buried inside you, forehead resting against yours as you both struggle to adjust to the overwhelming feeling of each other. it’s when you tell soonyoung that after 10 years, there’s nothing that will change your mind about him, that he finally moves.

“oh fuck,” he breathes as he starts rolling his hips, cock dragging in and out of you in an astonishingly seamless fit. “your cunt is perfect.”

you bloom at the praise, and you don’t shy away from returning it, chanting his name over and over again, whispers of how good he feels wherever you can fit them in between—how good he is for you, how he was made for you.

“y/n,” he gasps. he tries to tell you that if you keep saying his name like this—like he’s yours—he’s going to cum inside you. but all that comes out is: “oh my god.”

and all you say is “soonyoung” again and again and again. he’s never put any thought into his birth-given name, but tonight, he decides it’s his favorite string of letters. he never wants to hear you say anyone else’s name. he never wants anyone other than you to say his name. it’s yours and yours alone.

at some point, he can tell you can handle even more, and he pushes up off you, using the headboard as leverage as he pounds into you harder and rougher, rhythm becoming erratic and frenzied. the noises that come out of your mouth are so nasty, he’s on the brim of losing it.

“oh my god. look at you,” he pants, his sweat dripping from his face, his neck, and his chest onto you. a drop lands on the corner of your mouth, and without hesitating, your tongue darts out to lick it up, and he groans.

it’s too much: your neediness, your obedience, your eagerness. your tits—one sporting his hickey—bouncing wildly as he fucks you at a brutal pace. your unbelievably tight cunt, sucking his cock in so desperately, near-strangling it and refusing to let him go.

“so fucking perfect,” he tells you.

you make it clear that you’re not lasting long—that your third orgasm is on the horizon. it’s a bittersweet realization; on one hand, he’s relieved because he’s been holding his own orgasm off since his tongue met your clit. on the other, he never wants to stop fucking you.

but this is just the start, he tries to remind himself. this is just the first time, and there will be so many more now—now that you’re his and he’s yours.

your voice rings loudly in his ears again. i want to be yours so bad.

his voice is hoarse when he asks, “do you feel like you’re mine yet?”

you nod frantically, pussy squeezing tightly around him like the thought is pushing you even closer to finishing. “yes, god, yes. yes!”

“say it,” he demands, eyes never leaving yours. he can’t look away when you look like you would say or do anything for him.

“i’m yours,” you say immediately. “soonie… i’m yours, soonyoung.” his name comes out in a tortured whimper.

“i never want to hear another name come out of your mouth ever again,” he declares. “ah, fuck, holy shit. you feel so fucking good, baby. just for me, huh? oh fuck.” his orgasm is begging to be released, but he refuses to let up until you reach yours. “you’re mine. and i’m yours.”

you barely finish agreeing and calling soonyoung “mine” when your pussy is suddenly and violently quivering around him, pulsing and throbbing as you ride through your third orgasm of the night. the feeling of your climax squeezing around soonyoung is unreal, and he pulls out just in time to avoid coming inside of you, painting your beautiful, soft skin with his bliss.

it feels like it lasts forever, the spurts of white splattering you. he thinks he could get hard again when you let your mouth hang open and catch some of him on your tongue.

“holy shit,” he breathes when he’s tugged himself dry, leaning back and trying to catch his breath. he feels drops of sweat sliding down his body everywhere, his muscles burning deliciously.

soonyoung looks down at you and is pleased to see you covered with him: his cum, his sweat, his spit. he made good on his promise. if you don’t look like his right now, he has no idea what you look like.

“c’mere,” you whine, reaching for him with grabby hands when you have no energy to sit up and actually take hold of him.

he smiles and leans in to kiss you, before retrieving a towel from the bathroom to clean you both up with.

for the rest of the night, you two stay tangled up in each other’s arms and talk about when you fell in love.

you: when you first met him.

him: when you first walked into the room.

neither of you know if the other is telling the truth or if you’re just trying to win the i-loved-you-first competition (you’re both telling the truth).

you talk about what the future looks like. you decide you don’t know for sure, but one thing you’re confident about is that you’ll be facing it together. one thing soonyoung is sure about is that he’ll be making you his wife.

you ask if you can make your anniversary two days from now so it doesn’t land on your birthday. soonyoung asks if you can make it two days prior so that he can forget that he was trying to leave you on your 30th birthday. you agree.

you both run through every big moment either of you can remember being so hopelessly in love with each other, it hurt and what the other person was thinking at that moment. for every memory of yours soonyoung can remember, he’s able to tell you he was suffering just as much as you were. the same is true for you. for every memory he can’t remember, he feels like a kid, giggling and kicking his feet in bed with you hearing about how you were equally, pathetically down bad for him.

your birthday party is long forgotten, traded for an intimate night getting to know each other in drastically different ways than you did as best friends. soonyoung feels like he’s meeting you for the first time again—a privilege he never thought he would be afforded ever again. aside from learning what you liked from your time in his bed tonight, he learns a lot.

like for one, you actually are very into physical affection, something soonyoung thought you didn’t like displaying since you were constantly shoving him away; you just avoided it because it exacerbated your feelings for him and blurred the lines too much for you. in fact, you stay burrowed into his side the entire night, whining any time he moved a tiny bit away, even when it was just to adjust his position or reach to turn off the lamp. you love playing with his hair and tracing little patterns on his chest (he thinks one of the things you traced was your names together). you constantly thread his fingers with yours and when you get tired of that, you still keep your pinkies linked.

he learns you love hanging out at his apartment more than you like the fancy dinners. you feel the most at home with him when you’re actually home with him. you tell him your favorite nights are when you’re in charge of placing a food delivery order at his place while he unwinds from his workday, showering and changing (and unbeknownst to you, probably jacking off in the shower to make sure he doesn’t accidentally get hard while you two hang out). you say it feels like you’re his wife and this is your home too. the sentiment is enough to make him tear up, and you, of course, tease him mercilessly once a fat teardrop lands on your head.

by the time the sun is rising, soonyoung realizes you both have rewritten siquijor in the confines of his bedroom. all the miscommunication (or absolute lack thereof) and the pain and heartbreak have been replaced. from where you two lay in bed, he watches the sun’s rays start to reach into the sky, turning it stunning shades of orange, pink, purple, and blue, and for the first time in seven years, he doesn’t cringe away from it and the feelings of loneliness it used to bring. he doesn’t feel heartbroken all over again like he used to.

this time, the sun rises, and soonyoung feels so ridiculously happy. you quietly watch the sky with him, and he thinks you know what he’s thinking of as you continuously trace hearts, one after the other, never-ending, into his skin.

“it’s a new day,” you say quietly.

“it is,” he agrees, his heart full. “it’s a new day, and i love you even more than i did yesterday.”

you hug him tighter to you even though there is literally no space between you.

“i love you, soonie.” you yawn. “is it time to say good night?”

“it’s morning, baby.”

“no, we didn’t go to sleep. it’s definitely still night.”

he grins and doesn’t bother arguing with that logic. he moves to get out of bed, but you immediately lock your arms so he can’t. he snorts. “i’m just going to pull the curtains so we can sleep.”

you sigh like it’s still an inconvenience, but you release him all the same. “fine. you should get, like, a remote for them or something. isn’t that what rich people do?”

he rolls his eyes as he gets up and closes the curtains, bidding the sunrise—the best of his life—a farewell for now. “rich people stay rich by not buying things they don’t need, baby.”

“i don’t think so,” you disagree, arms opening again for soonyoung to lay back in.

“you know what, whatever you say,” he says as you kiss all the skin you can reach from where you hug him. he preens at the feeling. “you’re always right.”

you hum, smiling against him. “good boyfriend.”

“soon-to-be husband,” he mutters before yawning.

you giggle the same way you have been every time he’s corrected you tonight. “soonie-be-husband.”

he scoffs. “boo,” he heckles you. “bad! get off the stage!” you laugh harder, and it coaxes a soft smile out of him as he watches you.

“best friend” doesn’t seem like such a bad title in this moment anymore. he thinks he gets it now that he’s able to call you even more than that; it’s such an honor to be able to be both your boyfriend and your best friend now. it’s such an honor to be able to build something more on a foundation of friendship as strong as the one he shares with you.

when the laughter subsides, you both sigh, sinking into the bed further and getting comfortable.

“good night, love of mine,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“mine,” you repeat like you can’t get enough of the sound of it. “yours.”

soonyoung smiles and his eyes flutter closed with exhaustion, thoughts bleary but still painted with you and the last 10 years as he starts to drift off to sleep. if this is what he gets to have now, whatever pain he withstood and however much time he wasted is nothing to him—just a moot point in the story you’ll both tell for years to come.

he dreams of you two in siquijor that night, this time both of you sober and wrapped in each other and in love, with the rest of your lives ahead of you.

bonus (performance unit group chat):

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