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splaede · 6 months

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AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 6) (18+)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER SIX. armin's first

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: Things get heated. Things get so, so heated.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: smut (p in v sex, fingering), fem bodied reader, loss of virginity, petting, literally most of this is foreplay

wc: 9.7k

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

In the dim of your living room, your eyes could only see him. And right here, on the plush of your couch, your body only knew his.

Armin held you, secured you, and grounded you, strong arms snaked around your waist as you became all too aware of your intermingling bodies. The squish of your thighs against his, the unashamed press of your tits against his chest, the weight of his breaths against your lips…

You could still feel the tingle on your lips where he’d last kissed you, a ghost of his touch.

Above you, the clock ticked louder and louder in your ears, louder than the blood that rushed to muffle your hearing and the pounding of your pulse, a looming reminder that it was late. That you had work in the morning. That you were running out of time.

That you shouldn’t be doing this.

Another sound intruded on you. A voice, his voice, running rampant in the back of your head.

Will your roommate be home soon?

The fact that he’d asked that question…just what did he want?

And on top of that, you had already confirmed that, no, your roommate wasn’t going to be home any time soon. In fact, she wasn’t going to be home at all, meaning you’d have the entire night with him alone, undisturbed.

Sitting here, Armin quietly eyed you, curious and content yet half-lidded and torn by lust. He suddenly silenced your thoughts with a kiss, swooping in hard, teeth clashing, causing you to instinctively grab his face to ease him down.

The kiss oozed of messiness, an exchange of saliva and wet, meshed-together lips that barely held any rhythm. The feeling consumed you fully—the warmth and fervent press of his lips—as you slowly guided him.

Lost in the intensity, you instinctively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. He jolted, pulling away.

You thought that was so cute of him, seeing him like this. So ironically innocent.

“S—sorry,” he stuttered out, a bashful look on his face.

Your brows furrowed, worried that you had done something wrong. “Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s just….” He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I’m so nervous.”

Squeezing your hands on his shoulders, you reassured him, “It’s okay. We can go slow.”

“Okay.”

Armin smiled up at you, so sweetly and boyishly—so contradictory to the thoughts you’d been having about him. But even so, he was still nothing like the little boy you’d known. Not when he was gazing at you with that blush, reddened and far-gone, and that glint of lust—that hunger—in his eyes.

You still couldn’t believe he was here with you. If you’d known you’d be kissing your childhood friend ten years down the line, you’d probably flip out in disbelief.

But he’d matured so much from then. That boy was nothing like the man under you, holding onto you. Nothing like how tempting and alluring and irresistible he looked right now.

His palms flexed around your waist, once, then twice, then dragged up the sides of your torso, slowly, almost mindlessly, then back down. Pressed up like this, chest-to-chest, you could feel the racing of his heart so hard that you felt yourself rattling. And even though his hands had stopped shaking, the fast, repetitive thump inside his chest told you more than anything else ever would.

Sitting in silence, hearts beating out of sync, you let him roam your body like that. Slowly and hesitantly, like he hadn’t quite fully grasped the situation.

"You're a good friend,” he mumbled quietly, no longer meeting your eyes, fixated on where he was touching you instead.

Cheeks heating up at the praise, you shuddered with a laugh that sounded a little too strained and nervous.

You were a good friend? No, he was a good friend. He was the whole reason you wanted to do this in the first place. A good, caring, considerate friend that you would never turn down even if it meant putting your friendship on the line.

“I trust you. I wouldn’t ask anyone else this,” he continued.

Breathing in deep, you cupped his face affectionately. “No, please, you’re so good to me. How can I say no to you?”

His hands stilled, and you could see how his eyes instantly softened. Armin’s right hand fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyes meeting yours momentarily before darting away.

“Thank you. So…can we keep going?”

Your lips lifted into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Yeah, um. Do you…want to try using tongue now?”

As soon as you’d finished that sentence, you fought down the nervous, embarrassed lump that rose to your throat. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that.

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.

“Slowly, okay? We’re just gonna ease into it. When I lick your lips, open your mouth a little. And then after that, it’s like…” You swallowed, tensing. “Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. Just try to match me.”

He gazed at you with so much anticipation that you could almost taste it. Sliding your hands back onto his shoulders, you latched onto his lips again.

This time, there wasn’t a rush. Just slow, methodical, and relaxed movement as you relished the softness of his lips. You loved this feeling. Soft and sweet, like him.

His hands began roaming your body again, starting from the sides of your chest down to the tops of your thighs. His palms slightly brushed the outer parts of your breasts, but it was still nowhere close to where you really wanted him.

You took this as a cue to mimic him, hands gliding down to his biceps where you gave him a light squeeze. Even though you knew he worked out, you were still surprised to feel the dips and tautness of hard muscle. It wasn’t that you forgot, it was that you didn’t normally expect it from Armin, someone usually so nice and mellow.

As you trailed down his stomach, you could feel the defined ridges of his abs under your splayed palms, and you swore you almost moaned. For someone with such a cute face, he had such a strong body.

When your tongue finally soothed over his bottom lip, he parted his lips ever-so-slightly. And the moment you slipped your tongue in, he let out a small noise that was so, so quiet. Your tongues met, warm and wet.

You could tell he was hesitant, but you continued at the same pace, slowly licking into him and swiping your tongue over his. He’d completely stilled, hands etching themselves harder into your waist. As you were letting yourself taste him, something tugged on your heart, weighing heavy.

Because it dawned on you that you were making out with Armin.

Something so intimate and passionate like this could only be reserved for lovers, not for friends.

Armin reluctantly slipped his hands under your shirt. Just right there, right at the threshold of your torso and not any further, like he was testing the waters. He held you there, only tasting. Your breath hitched, startled by the warmth of his fingers, but the flow of the kiss remained the same.

The pressure of his tongue was soothing as it moved against yours, and he was getting the hang of it little by little. And the moment it seemed to click—where it felt like you’d reached the perfect rhythm and the perfect amount of energy—you moaned into his mouth to let him know he was doing good. Thank God he was a fast learner.

Cradling his neck into your arms and threading your fingers into his hair, you rolled your hips into him experimentally, pelvises meeting. You heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t break the kiss. He only tightened his hold on you, pushing you down slightly as he rolled his hips, matching you.

The friction felt so undeniably good. You knew he felt good, too, because you could feel the area of his crotch stiffen under you.

It was like that for a while, the two of you grinding on each other, so focused on outdoing the other that the kiss wasn’t even a kiss anymore. Just a mix of messy lips and hitched moans and saliva. So much so that you had to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth.

You were the first to pull away for air.

“How was it?” he instantly asked, licking his lips. They were swollen, and that gave you the urge to kiss him again.

“Just a little messy. But good. You did good for your first time.” You laughed.

He laughed with you, bringing a thumb to swipe over the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about that.”

Just like that, the two of you shared a cute moment, and you began to think that nothing would change between you—that you two would still be friends and embrace these moments no matter what.

As the atmosphere from your makeout session died down, you were left with one final thought.

What now?

“Hey…” you started. You didn’t even know how to word this. Do you know where this is going? Do you even want to keep going?

You stood up, all too abruptly like you were running on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up with your body, hands detaching from his neck and thighs from his lap. You looked at him warily, wedged between the coffee table and his parted legs.

Armin frantically stood up, too, half hard in his pants as he reached for your forearm. “Something wrong?”

It was late, you remembered again.

But now, in this lapse of judgment, you guessed it didn't matter if you should or shouldn't continue. Not when he was staring at you, pleading with his eyes—with his body. You could almost hear his heart thumping out of his chest.

You wondered if he could hear yours, too.

“Um,” you trailed off, wondering how to save yourself.

Before you had the chance to recollect your thoughts, Armin cut you off. “Sorry, um. I mean, I know it’s late…if that’s what you were going to say. I should probably go. You did say I should only stay for a little bit—”

“No—wait, no.” You pressed a palm to his chest.

Armin subtly tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you had work in the morning?”

“I know, but...” Your eyes trailed down to his crotch, suddenly guilty. “Do you want to stay?”

He regarded you with a look of uncertainty, hands hovering beside your arms like he was about to hold you. “Yeah…?”

“Then…what do you want to do?” It came out in a slight whisper, and you instantly wanted to slap yourself for that question because, one, it was definitely the wrong question. All you wanted was clarity as to whether he knew where this was going, and two, what did you mean by what he wanted to do?

You could feel his eyes burning into your head, but yours were averted to where the neckline of his tee dipped down to reveal his collarbone.

He gulped. “What do I want to do?” he parroted, breathing in a steady breath. “Um…what do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, knowing you were going to sound desperate. “Was kissing…all you wanted to do?”

He looked visibly taken aback now, lashes fluttering as his eyes flitted over your form in surprise.

“No…”

“Then what?”

Maybe you really were desperate as you stood here so close to him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache.

“Well, I think—I think you know,” he mumbled shamefully. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Say it. Please? I just want to be sure.”

He pursed his lips, too, while contemplating, flushed a deep pink on his cheeks. “I want us to…go the whole way. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “To teach me.”

For a long moment, you were convinced you stopped breathing.

It was so loud now. Your heartbeat was so unbearably loud, reverberating and bursting through your ears. A breathless silence filled the room.

He didn't waver. Not once. He only gazed straight into your eyes—straight through you, irises deep and blue and overwhelming and darkened by lust. He'd lost that innocent, bright shine long ago.

The beat of your heart only quickened, even quicker than what it already was.

Was this it? Was this the next step? Was this it after all of those needy kisses and flimsy touches and longing, vulnerable stares?

Nevertheless, a sense of relief washed over you. You wanted this, too, despite the fact that you were risking something precious to you. Something irreversible.

Not that'd you stop now.

And then you were onto him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. He returned it just as quickly, rough and intimate. His hands slid to your waist and held you tight against his body while you clung onto him like it was the end of the world.

Licking his lips teasingly, you murmured in between the kiss, “My room.”

He broke away a little, muttering a little “okay” before you cut him off by pressing your mouth back onto his.

When you pulled away, he surprised you with his next words.

“Can I carry you?”

Without hesitation, you lightly jumped onto him, and he caught you, carrying you effortlessly in his strong arms. You loved the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, firm and warm. He was so surprisingly muscly that you wanted to squeal.

The walk wasn’t far in your small apartment space, and you quickly found yourself being placed gingerly onto your bed and your limbs untangling from his body. He stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do. You scooted back onto your pillows, beckoning him to come closer.

“Get on top of me.” You tugged on the front of his tee. “Like this.”

He stumbled onto your bed, settling in between your legs as his hands braced him up. You tugged him even closer still, and he fell to his forearms.

You looked up at him only to find him blushing, a dark, rosy color tinting the apples of his cheeks, watching you with eager eyes as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Heat bubbled in your stomach. “Are you sure you want to do this? Remember, this is…this is for you. This is about how you feel.”

“I’m sure,” he answered quickly.

Then, Armin kissed you for the millionth time tonight, but this time, it was short yet thorough, like he just missed your taste.

“Kiss me on my neck,” you urged, craning your head. “Just don’t leave any marks.”

Armin dipped down instantly, but he stilled for the next second, hesitantly staring at your neck. The conviction finally hit him and his lips met your skin, ticklish and titillating and warm. He peppered slow kisses along the juncture of your neck, leaving one long, suckling kiss—one hard enough to make you feel good but soft enough not to leave a mark. You could tell he was unsure about his movements, so you softly grabbed him by the hair to bring him to a specific spot.

“Right—ah—there. Yeah,” you assured him as he gave another suckling kiss.

“Is this good?” he asked timidly into your skin, and you could feel the tickle of where his lips moved.

You hummed in response. “It’s good. You’re doing good,” you replied, words tumbling out of your mouth in an awkward way.

He pulled away, and his eyes raked over your form, suddenly stopping at your chest. While you should’ve been excited, something else happened. Something like dismay filled his eyes as his brows twitched downwards.

“Is this Eren’s sweater?”

Oh.

“Yeah?” you weakly breathed out, voice pitched a higher octave than you’d like.

His eyes flitted back to your face again, still strewn with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but knew wasn’t good.

“Can I take it off?” he asked, pawing the hem of your sweater. He seemed confident almost, but you knew that the barely discernible, nervous strain in the thrum of his voice gave it all away.

You nodded wordlessly like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Armin grabbed onto the hem of your sweater with both hands, peeling it off you so slowly that you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or just simply nervous. Your stomach coiled in anticipation the farther he went, with each inch of skin he revealed. He was so agonizingly slow—or maybe you were so impatient that it felt like time had slowed down—yet the rush of cool air against your torso was instant.

The moment he reached your bra, your heart seemed to beat out of your chest, and you needed to steady your breathing.

He stopped and looked for only a minuscule second, as if he didn’t dare to stare any longer, and picked up the pace, pushing the last of your sweater above your raised arms.

“Pants, too,” you whispered softly.

With shaky hands, Armin obediently worked them off, past the fabric of your panties, all the way down your legs.

He’d seen you in a bikini before, but it was different this time. You were laid out all nicely in front of him, clad in a bra and thin panties. On your bed, for him.

The newfound cold nipped everywhere at your skin, goosebumps prodding up your arms and legs.

“Take my bra off for me.” You said shakily, turning to your side to give him access. “You know how?”

He laughed out what seemed to be a mix of a chuckle and a scoff. “I’m sure it isn’t hard.” His knuckles brushed the skin of your back as he took hold of the straps and unclasped your bra. You could feel his hands shaking against your back. “Easy.”

As he slid it off of you, that heavy feeling in your heart resurfaced, and you began to feel self-conscious.

But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself.

Your upper body was now completely bare to him. The cool of the air swept over your already-hardening nipples.

Armin only stared at you. Didn’t say a word. Just outright ogled you with raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as his hands twitched where they were resting near his thighs.

You grabbed both of his hands, placing his palms directly on your chest. “C’mon. Touch me.”

Gulping hard, he leaned into you, broad, unpracticed hands cupping your tits, squeezing just once. Then his hands started moving, experimentally pushing and squeezing over the plush of your tits, palms grazing over the peaks of your pebbled nipples.

You clamped your eyes shut, letting yourself go for the moment. It felt so pleasant, just steady friction against your sensitive breasts.

Armin’s hands were soft—that much you already knew—just as everything else was about him. But while his hands were soft and gentle, his gaze was hard. He was so fixed and focused on you, blue eyes practically dripping with unbridled lust.

He cupped your tits again, a soft nudge, then his hands slid down the curve of your waist. You could feel the trail of warmth that his fingers left on your skin. It clung to you even as his hands moved away to rest on your abdomen. His thumbs pressed into your skin so briefly that his touch might’ve been a spasm of a finger as the bottoms of his palms grazed against the hem of your panties.

The warmth followed down the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and down to your knees. You shifted your legs closer to your body, and his hands quickly cupped the underside of your thighs, squeezing once.

You knew this was his first time, so you let him explore your body as your hand came to his cheek to pull him down for another kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, and you happily welcomed it.

His hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your neck, your arms. You could tell he was losing rhythm between keeping up with the kiss and touching you, but you couldn’t care less.

He pulled away first, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips.

“Armin, play with my….” The embarrassment hit you again. You didn’t even want to finish your sentence, but luckily, he seemed to understand.

“Oh.” His fingers found your tits again, thumbs swiping over your nipples before he lightly pinched them, tugging them upwards. “Like this?”

You gasped and squirmed. “Yeah. Like that. Just very lightly. Try rolling them between your fingers.”

His thumb and index finger met with your nipples, and he did what you told him, twisting and rolling your nipples between his fingers.

That elicited a little whine from you. “Feels nice.”

Armin continued his ministrations on you as he alternated between tweaking your nipples and groping your tits whole. It was sensual and quiet, save for the sound of your soft moans.

He suddenly sighed, eyes clouded. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered softly and fondly.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you smiled at him and let your cheeks heat up from his compliment. It caught you off guard. Because somehow, in a suggestive moment like this, he managed to make it sweet. Judging from the tone of his voice, you knew it was genuine.

Because he was a genuine guy.

You cupped the back of his head and pushed him toward your chest. “Put your mouth here.”

He doubled back, eyes wide, but didn’t waste another second to envelop his lips onto your chest. He followed your orders so easily—like a dog to its owner—that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charm of it.

For a second, you wondered if he needed guidance, but when his tongue laved over your breast, you only held his head tighter as your back arched off the bed in pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut, feathery, blonde lashes resting against his cheekbones. He kissed your nipple just as he kissed you, licking and sucking meticulously and thoroughly.

One of the things that you liked about Armin was that he was such an adaptable learner. Took things he learned and applied them somewhere else. Not that any of this required any big skill, but he just did it so well and so quickly.

You grabbed his hand and brought it to your other nipple, and he quickly understood, playing with you like he did before.

Suddenly, his teeth took hold of your nipple—just a light graze, and you gasped again. You felt the ache between your thighs throb, shamelessly getting wetter. Where did he learn to do that?

“Okay, that’s—that’s good.” You tapped his cheek. “Over here now.”

His mouth unlatched with a pop and he switched to the other breast, repeating the same routine. You felt the remnants of his saliva on your skin mix with the cool air, tingling.

You were sure your panties were drenched now. Sure that the arousal made the fabric stick to you.

Armin pulled away, licking the spit from his lips, and looked right into your eyes. “Was that okay?” he asked innocently.

“Mhm,” you hummed, but you were convinced it came out more as a whine. You clutched a handful of the fabric of his tee. “Off.”

He sat up straighter, surprised but willing. “Off? Okay, okay.” Armin reached behind him to grab the collar of his T-shirt, and in one swift yank, it came off. He threw his shirt on the floor like the rest of your clothes, and you were left to ogle at his body.

Your eyes raked over the smooth planes of his chest, his slim waist, and the hard, toned stomach where your hands had previously felt.

Even at pools and beaches, he opted for T-shirts with his swim trunks. And the last time you’d seen him shirtless, he wasn’t this jacked.

“I never get to see you like this. You’re so—you’re so built.” The fluster was so evident in your voice as you trailed your fingers down his torso.

He shyly laughed, pink on his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You’re so pretty, Armin.” Before the embarrassment and weight of your compliment caught up to you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Take—take this off, too.”

You eyed the bulge beneath his pants, hard and begging to be freed.

You gulped. Now you two were really getting into it—seeing and doing something so intimate. You had no problem undressing yourself, but when it came to him…

He nodded as his hands fumbled with the button and zipper, thumbs slotted in between his waistband as he shakily pulled them down. You helped him get them off, anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins.

Once his jeans were off, he seemed even bigger now. You could see the clear outline of his dick straining against his boxers, and it was messing with your head. This was your best friend, for crying out loud. Both of your most intimate places were each just a layer away, just inches away.

“Fuck, I’m so—” His eyes scanned over you, from the eager expression on your face, to your bare tits, and to your legs that were spread to accommodate him. “You don’t know how hard I am right now.”

You gulped again. “Yeah?” you teased, palming him through his boxers.

He sharply inhaled and cursed low under his breath, but before you could go any further, he grabbed your wrist. There was a look of worry on his face—maybe it was desperation, you thought—and you wondered if you did something wrong.

“W—wait. I want to know how to make you feel good.”

Your face morphed into one of surprise. Armin wanted to please you first.

You felt the arousal creeping up on you. Felt it soaking your panties again.

You breathed out slowly, and for a second, the words died on your tongue. He was going to see you fully naked. Only a flimsy piece of fabric away from erasing the line between your friendship and this…whatever this was.

“Yeah, that’s good. Wanting to please your partner first, that is.” You regained your footing. “Help me take them off?” You eyed him innocently and pulled his hands towards your body until his knuckles touched your panties.

He stared for a moment—definitely at the wet, darkened patch over your crotch. Armin finally took hold of the hem of your panties, fingers hot against the skin of your pelvis. Unblinking, he pulled them down gently, agonizingly slow. You could feel your slick sticking to your panties and the fabric grazing your almost quivering thighs. In an instant, cool air rushed to you.

His eyes never left you as he pulled your panties past your knees and ankles, so fixated and eager that he made you nervous. The coil in your stomach returned, tense, like it was moments away from bursting.

You felt like a virgin all over again. You were embarrassed—even though you knew you shouldn’t be because it was just Armin—and on the brink of clamping your legs together, but you couldn’t because his body was right in between you, even closer than you’d noticed before.

“God, you’re so…” Armin gulped. He was quiet, muttering to himself, struggling to find his words, and nervously pushing his hair back. It fell back messily onto his forehead. “What do I…what do I do now?”

Clutching his hand between both of your palms, you shaped his hand into a “thumbs up” sign and brought it to your slit, spreading yourself with one hand. “This is the clit. If you…if you didn’t already know.”

His thumb grazed over your clit, and a twinge of pleasure shot up your lower body.

“I know.”

Armin thumbed your clit some more, swiping circles and pressing down lightly. You could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

“Is this good?” he asked.

“Mhm. A little faster—oh! Yeah, that’s good.” Your hips bucked as he sped up. “You—you could also use your middle and ring finger.”

You demonstrated with your hand, and he quickly followed, pressing his fingers onto you again.

This time, he started off slow and worked his way to match the pace from before.

“A little lower.” And suddenly you were arching off the bed. “Oh! Wait—”

“Am I doing it right?” he interjected, voice shaky. He was watching for your reaction, blue eyes boring into your face.

You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit.

“You wanna move down now?” you asked.

Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face.

“Show me how.” He said, adamant.

“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”

He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?”

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth.

“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was.

“Just like that,” you whispered.

With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further.

“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”

The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.

You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.”

His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy.

He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out.

The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”

“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed.

You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.

Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.

“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.”

He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot.

You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing.

Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.

Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking.

Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds.

His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist.

“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled.

Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan.

The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter.

You moaned into his mouth. “So close.”

He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth.

“You’re doing so good,” you praised.

Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped.

The coil snapped.

“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”

“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”

The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole.

“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine.

You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next.

As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets.

“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute.

You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy.

“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.”

He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.”

Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”

Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge.

Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.

“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes.

“Taste it.”

He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”

“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth.

He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue.

The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed.

Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you.

A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.

“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next.

You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness.

“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?”

He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face.

You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…

“Big…” you whispered softly.

“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?”

He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs.

“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.”

He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”

He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids.

“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.”

“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit.

“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.”

You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?

“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.”

Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands.

“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.

Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package.

"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.

“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end.

He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing.

“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up.

“I think so.” He nodded.

“Want to do it?”

He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.”

Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him.

He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them.

“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck.

“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.

In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again.

He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.

You only wanted one thing.

"Please. Need you inside me."

He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine.

Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.”

Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch.

He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.

With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him.

He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.”

And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity.

You had.

Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out.

“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. “I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated.

“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.”

He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown.

“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”

“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”

With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.

You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy.

And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.

He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.

The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more.

With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue.

Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good.

Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him.

As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand.

“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit.

Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.

As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.

He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?

“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes.

Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you.

The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways.

“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin.

Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine.

“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.”

And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment.

But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting.

You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good.

Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.”

His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit.

Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck.

Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him.

"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.

You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.

Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow.

It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.”

He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips.

You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with.

In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”

He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you.

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force.

His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole.

A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend.

You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.

He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body.

And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore.

He smirked down at you.

But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked.

His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!”

Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”

That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat.

“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”

“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”

With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides.

Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy.

All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.

With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes.

Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight.

It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.

You laid there, catching your breath.

You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process.

And everything left you wondering…

Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened.

Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”

Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?

In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple.

Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you.

“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”

He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face.

“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”

Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex.

He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to.

Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something.

“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out.

Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”

As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.”

Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”

“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled.

“Armin, what are you—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard.

Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him.

Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.

“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.”

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killerlookz · 3 months

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She Makes Dirty Words Sound Pretty: Pt. II | Joost Klein

Description: Joost Klein x f! reader (part two to this fic here) Joost returns home from tour, and he and reader finally get to rekindle their relationship with some much-needed make up sex.

Content: 18+ nsfw, mdni- rpf smut, oral (f! recieving), fingering, unprotected PiV, allusions to past angst/relationship issues but mostly just comfort/fluff

Word count: 4,379

Your eyes flutter as a soft touch against your cheek pulls awake you from your unconscious state. Heavy eyelids prying themselves open, fighting against the weight of sleep. Your bedroom is drenched in moonlight, providing just enough clarity to identify the figure that stands above you.

"Joost?" Your straining voice thick with sleep as your eyebrows furrow, confused, but you'd be lying if you said a smile wasn't tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Oh," He responds, lips just above your forehead, "Schatje, I didn't mean to wake you." His voice soft and apologetic.

"No," You mumble, heart pumping, far too ecstatic for your exhausted state, "You're home?" You outstretch a lazy arm, reaching for the lamp on your bedside table so you can actually see the man you're talking to. With a click, the room is enveloped in a soft orange glow. Your eyelids snap shut at the initial brightness, too harsh for your eyes, sensitive from sleep.

Last you heard, Joost wasn't supposed to be home from tour until tomorrow evening. Not that you could complain about his early appearance, it had been a hard few weeks without him.

You stare at the man above you, his glasses hanging down his nose, exposing his eyes, the pale skin surrounding them seeming darker than usual with hints of purple, his hair, messy. He looked exhausted, you figured it had been a while since he had gotten a good night's sleep.

"I was able to get an earlier flight." A small smile appears on his lips as he slowly stands up from the position where he hovers over you.

"Didn't tell me." You pout

"I didn't want you waiting up for me." His head falls to the side, apologetically.

"No? Just going to hover over me in the dark at-whatever time in the morning it is."

Joost shakes his head, chuckling,

"You make it sound so creepy."

"It is a little creepy," You giggle, "Waking up to some guy hanging above my face."

"Just giving you a kiss goodnight."

"Then why don't you come to bed?" You ask, patting the empty space next to you.

It was then that you had realized perhaps subconsciously you had been leaving room for Joost in bed every night. It had been over a month since you had last shared a bed, and yet still you had continued to sleep on "your" side of the bed, not allowing yourself to sprawl out.

"A few minutes, okay?"

You nod, your head falling to the side, still sleepy.

You manage to keep your eyes open, however, as you watch Joost walk away from you. You track his movements with your eyes, your gaze not leaving his body as he walks about the room.

There had been a lingering tension in the room, one that lightly dulled your excitement of having Joost home. Many words had been left unsaid between the two of you, having thought it better to push aside discussing those tumultuous first few weeks he had been away until Joost had gotten home. Neither of you wanted to deal with emotions getting lost or misunderstood over the phone anymore, both you and Joost wanted to fix your relationship, not continue the cycle of arguments you had unfortunately fallen into.

Still, things had been amicable between you, being able to hold conversations like normal- but, that gnawing feeling of obvious feelings having been unspoken did not cease.

Despite the tension, your heart still flutters as you watch Joost undress on the other side of the bedroom, stripping down to only his boxers. A smile grazes his lips as he looks up at you, catching you staring at him. You smile back, unashamed of how hard you had been looking.

"Be right there," The grin lingers on his face as he goes to toss his clothes into the closet. You take this moment to turn off the lamp beside you, the room once again now only lit by moonlight.

Moments later he's walking back toward the bed, the mattress dipping as he climbs in next to you.

Immediately, the two of you are meeting in the middle of the bed, wrapping a leg around his as you pull yourself near him, his arm snaking around your waist. You close your eyes as your lips meet his in a gentle kiss, so soft yet still filled with so many emotions. Joost grips you tighter, holding you firmly against his,

"I missed you," He mumbles, pulling away only slightly, his lips still ghosting yours as he speaks.

"I missed you too." It wasn't solely a physical missing him, but missing the Joost before tour, the Joost before the arguments and nights ridden with anger and spite. But as you lay in each other's arms, it feels as if you already have that Joost back, the Joost that wouldn't ever dare to hurt your feelings, not even in the slightest, "I'm glad you're home."

It felt ridiculous even saying having that Joost back, he had never left, and deep down you knew it, under no circumstances would either of you truly intentionally hurt each other.

You feel Joost's chest rising against yours before he lets out a large exhale.

"Mmm," He hums, nuzzling his face into your cheek, "Ik ben zo blij om thuis te zijn." (I'm so glad to be home), A small kiss is placed against your jaw before Joost speaks again, his words becoming slower, "Met mijn lieve meisje" (With my sweet girl)

"You're exhausted." You giggle, Joost had a habit of mixing up languages once he got to a certain point of tired, often speaking in some combination of English and Dutch, but it seemed now he had forgotten English entirely, "Prober wat te slapen." (try to get some sleep),

"Ahh," Joost's breath tickles your neck as he exhales, "You should speak Dutch more, zo mooi klinkt." (sounds so pretty)

You can't help but feel a little bad, your usage of Dutch in day-to-day life hadn't exactly been nearly as much as it should have been for someone with a Dutch boyfriend, living in the Netherlands. Despite the length the two of you had been together, and how long you had been living here you had yet to feel confident enough to use it so often.

You simply hum in response, unsure of what to say as you snuggle up closer to Joost, burying your head in his neck, and wrapping an arm around his torso. You had missed this closeness, realizing just how much you craved his touch as Joost's arm snakes up under the T-shirt you had been wearing, feeling his palm grip your now-exposed skin.

"Hold on," You mumble, sneaking out of Joost's grip, grabbing at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head. You toss the fabric somewhere in the room, leaving both of you clad only in your underwear.

The two of you were long past the point in your relationship of there being any shame or shyness around nudity. There was nothing inherently sexual about your decision to further undress, rather the move was done solely due to your desire for skin-to-skin contact with Joost.

As you go to lay back down, Joost turns on his side, pressing his chest to your now bare back. His skin is soft, the warmth of his body heat exuding a familiar warmth as he presses his face into your neck. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Slaap lekker, ik hou van jou." (Sleep tight, I love you.) Joost mumbles into your ear, and you can tell sleep is quickly overtaking him.

"Ik hou ook van jou." (I love you too.)

You wake up with a low groan, immediately noticing the sharp pain in your neck as you attempt to change your position.

"Ugh," You moan at the sensation, eyes fluttering open.

"Hmm?" You hear a hum from next to you, remembering that Joost had come home last night.

Inhaling deeply you turn your whole body to the side, wincing at the way your neck aches with your movements.

Your boyfriend lies next to you, awake, but his eyelids are still heavy as he looks at you. You forget the pain you're in for just a moment as you admire his peaceful state, his face illuminated by the soft orange glow of sunlight.

"What's wrong?" He asks, voice thick with sleep.

"Slept weird." You furrow your eyebrows, "My neck really hurts."

"Mijn arme meisje," (My poor girl) He pouts, "C'mon," He stretches a hand to your waist, "Roll over, maybe a massage will help."

Wordlessly, you comply, rolling onto your stomach, trying to adjust yourself comfortably against the pillows, tilting your head to the side so as to not suffocate yourself.

The bed dips as Joost moves from his position, a hand grazing your thigh, motioning you to pull your legs apart so he can sit between them.

You can feel Joost hovering above you as he kneels between your legs, his presence is a comforting one.

"Good morning," He mumbles, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder blade.

"Morning." You respond, silently hoping for him to kiss you more. But soon enough his thumbs press against the back of your neck, the rest of your fingers just barely resting against your throat as he softly massages the spot where you're sore.

A small gasp leaves your mouth at the sensation, your eyes forcing themselves shut.

"That feel okay?" Joost asks, a tinge of concern in his voice.

"Perfect." You sigh, letting yourself enjoy his touch.

He continues for a little while longer, gentle moans leaving your mouth as he soothes your pain with the palms of his hand. After a few minutes of silence, Joost speaks again,

"Are things okay- between us? You've been short with me since I got back."

"Oh," You exhale, "-M'just tired." It's only partially the truth, you know you can't skirt around having to discuss the issues the pair of you had had at the beginning of tour for much longer, but you're hoping to divert the conversation for just a little bit more so you can revel in this moment, "We can talk about everything later. Let's just enjoy our morning"

"Okay," Joost's voice barely above a whisper, "Want me to go lower?" His hands trailing down to your shoulders.

"Mhm," You hum.

Joost kneads into the skin of your shoulders, eliciting more moans and sighs from you. His touch is just firm enough to be effective, yet still gentle, romantic.

He continues massaging down your back as you're enveloped in a comfortable silence. All tension seems to be erased from your body as Joost works his hands against you. There's no stress, no worries, only him and his reassuring touch.

Joost finds himself sliding his hands down your hips and to your thighs. He grips each thigh with one hand, his fingers pressing into the supple flesh. A familiar tightness creeps between your legs as you realize where he has positioned himself, and how close to your inner thighs his thumbs are.

You sigh as your back arches into his touch, forcing his hands a little further up your thighs. Joost continues his movements, his fingers inching closer, and closer to the inside of your legs.

"Like that?" He asks, his voice making it evident he already knows the answer.

"Yes." Is just about all you can manage out.

Joost swipes a thumb across the crotch of your panties, shivers running down your spine as he does so.

"How about if I touch you here?" He presses his thumb right above your clothed entrance, "Would you like that?"

"Please," You strain, your inner thighs pulsing with a growing arousal.

Joost's thumb ghosts over the fabric of your panties a couple times, swiping back and forth, teasingly, before pulling them to the side.

You gasp as the cold air from your bedroom meets your now exposed wetness before Joost slides a thumb through your folds, gathering your arousal before pressing on your clit. He draws circles against the sensitive nerves, coaxing gentle moans from you.

You need him terribly, as enjoyable as phone sex had been while he was away on tour, nothing could ever compare to the real thing. Sometimes it felt like Joost knew your body better than you did yourself, always able to make you feel a sort of pleasure you hadn't known was possible.

"Lay on your back," Joost commands, his voice still gentle. You do exactly as he says, whining a little at the loss of stimulation as his hand leaves your crotch.

You lay flat against the bed, staring up at the ceiling as Joost's fingers find themselves in the waistband of your panties, sliding them down the length of your legs and discarding them across the room.

Perched between your legs, Joost motions you to bend them, putting you on full display for him.

"So pretty," He muses as his eyes trail your naked figure. His small praise has your body hot as you position your gaze towards him.

His tongue swipes across his lips as he stares down at you, eyes aflame with desire. You had never seen a picture so perfect, the way that the warm glow of the sun seeped into your bedroom, illuminating him just right. You marveled at the man in front of you, even after years it had felt unbelievable that he was yours.

Joost leans forward, letting his hands rest on your thighs, pulling them apart. Soon his lips are pressed to your abdomen, soft kisses being littered against your skin before they eventually trail lower. One final kiss is placed just above your clit, forcing your back to arch as you all but beg for him.

A smirk graces Joost's mouth before his tongue leaves his lips, softly licking at you, forcing a sharp, "Oh," to leave you.

His tongue circles around your clit a few more times before being replaced with his lips, sucking at the bundle of nerves.

Each new movement of his mouth against you has you whining with pure delight, his tongue slowly trailing down to your entrance before dipping inside.

"Fuck.' You sputter, your hands finding their way into his hair. Joost's tongue flattens against your cunt, licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, before pressing a kiss to it. The sensation has you gripping at the messy blonde strands of his hair, causing Joost to groan. The vibration his low voice makes against your pussy causes your abdomen to tighten, and your body to twitch in pure delight.

He pulls back for just a second, making you whimper at the lack of stimulation,

"Taste so good, schatje," He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, "God, I missed this- missed your pussy."

His sweet words only make your body grow hotter, tingling with fervent arousal.

He continues to work his tongue against your cunt, skillful licks followed by sporadic kisses. The pleasure you feel is so intense that it is almost painful, loud, high-pitched moans now replace your soft whines.

Joost's lips envelop your clit, sucking at the swollen bud, his mouth is warm, wet, and unrelenting against your sensitive nerves, and you feel your legs trembling, you know you're close.

Your fingers grip Joost's hair, tight, as the stimulation almost becomes too much to bear.

"So close," You whine, but Joost doesn't seem to acknowledge your words, only continuing to push you closer to completion with his mouth. You rock your lips against Joost's face, forcing his tongue further onto you.

Your eyes force themselves shut as you feel your orgasm crashing into you, no words can escape your mouth, only strained noises as your toes curl, muscles tense, and legs twitch. Your cunt spasms under the pressure of Joost's warm mouth, your arousal spilling out of you and onto his tongue.

Joost doesn't spare a single drop as your orgasm rolls over you, the intense wave slowly subsiding as your eyes flutter open. Still, Joost's tongue remains buried inside of you, collecting your release. His lingering licks force a strained whine out of you, sore with overstimulation.

Joost eventually pulls back from you, his wet lips trailing kisses on your thighs before raising his head completely.

You struggle to catch your breath as Joost's head emerges from between your thighs, sitting up, a grin pressed against his lips, glossy from you.

You swallow thickly as you look down his body, noticing the way his cock strains against the tightness of his underwear, the white fabric spearing no detail about how he was feeling.

If he were to touch you now you'd surely cry from overstimulation, yet- somehow it seemed to be all you wanted- him, buried deep inside you.

Joost rests a hand on your thigh before turning a sympathetic gaze to you,

"Too tired to continue?"

"No," You shake your head.

"Good," His lips curling into a smirk, "I know you can hold out a little longer for me."

You nod, affirming his words,

"Need you, please." You whine, staring right at him, your sore legs parting once more as you speak.

Joost lurches forward, holding himself above you with his arms positioned on either side of you. He lowers himself slightly to press a kiss to your lips. You moan at the lingering taste of your release on him.

His kisses trail to your neck, sucking softly against your beating pulse. Your desperate hands roam his body, aching just to feel him.

"You know I love you, right?" He mumbles against your neck.

"Mhm," You sigh, content, "I love you too."

He lifts his head from where it is buried against you, looking straight down at you once more, shaking his head,

"I don't ever want to lose you, liefje." He speaks in earnest, eyes widening. Your heart feels like it's skipping beats as his intense gaze lingers on you, drawing out those feelings you had been keeping unsaid.

"I know," You whisper, "We're going to be okay." You nod, you know it. Joost nods with you, his gaze softening as he lowers a kiss to your cheek.

"You don't know how bad I've wanted his," Joost's voice is suddenly low, seductive.

"I think I do," You smirk, "And I think I may want this even more."

"Yeah," He breathes, "Why don't you show me then, mooi meisje" (pretty girl)

Joost rolls over, landing on his back, causing the bed to bounce slightly. You straddle Joost's legs, fingers trembling with excitement as they tease the waistband of his boxers.

You lean forward, pressing kisses to his stomach, eventually leading down to the elastic of his underwear. You can feel his breathing deepen as your lips grace his waist

You let your hand fall from where it toyed with the elastic, your palm rolling over his crotch. You feel his cock twitch under your light touch. You flick your eyes up to him, where he lays, propped up on the pillows, mouth open slightly.

You smirk as you continue to palm him through his boxers, his hips beginning to buck into your hand.

"Come on, schatje." He just about begs, hips stuttering forward. A smirk graces your lips, "Fuck, come on, I need you."

There's something of a desperation in his voice, his blatant desire for you just about knocking the wind out of you. Yes, teasing him was fun... but fucking him was definitely way better.

You bite your lip, your head lowering in a slow nod as your fingers return back to the waistband of his boxers as you begin to tug them down. He doesn't hesitate to help you out, lifting his back just slightly so you're able to pull them down his thighs, his hard cock springing from the confines of the fabric.

You give him a sheepish smile as his back returns to the mattress, leaning forward once more and wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. Your firm grip causes him to grasp as you slowly begin to pump your hand up and down the shaft.

Joost's head tips back as you continue to work your hand up and down his cock. You feel your own arousal growing as you watch his face, his jaw clenching as struggled groans leave his mouth.

"Stop that," He breathes out, "Come here, want you on top of me." He beckons.

You remove your hand from him, slowly crawling up the length of his body before stopping, now straddling his upper thighs. Joost flicks his head up, motioning for you to continue. You sit up, positioning yourself above him.

"That's it," He purrs as you grab the base of his cock, lining him up with your entrance. The head grazes your wet folds, causing you to gasp, only craving him more. You look back up at Joost, waiting for permission to continue. He nods fervently, "Go on, I know you want it."

"Yeah," You sigh, maintaining eye contact with him as you begin to sink down on him. Your lips purse, forming a straight line, eyes squeezing shut as he begins to stretch you out, and you take your time to fully take him in.

"Fuck, liefje," Joost groans as he bottoms out into you.

"You want me to go faster?"

"No," Joost breathes out, "No this is perfect, take it slow, schatje, enjoy the moment."

You're fine with that, slowly raising your hips until only the tip of his cock is in you, before sinking down onto Joost once more.

Joost sits up, grabbing your hips to help guide you at a steady pace that feels good for both of you. But it's not long before his hands leave your hips, palms sliding up and down your body, the pads of his fingers grabbing at you, groping wherever he can get his hands on.

"Joost," You whine as he hits that perfect spot inside you, "Oh, fuck, Joost."

"Feels good?" He asks, knowingly, his breathing heavy, "It's like you were made for me- fuck, you were made for me." He remarked at how perfect you felt around him.

All you can respond with is a series of sloppy moans and whines, the feeling of him inside you making your brain go numb.

"That's it," He groans, "Use that pretty voice, show me how good you feel."

Joost settles his grip on your ass, his dull fingernails digging into your flesh, pinching just enough to elicit a delightful sting. Joost's handle on you once again helps you maintain a steady pace as your legs begin to tire, muscles starting to burn from your consistent movement. To further help you, he begins bucking his hips in time with your movement, thrusting into you as you sink down onto him.

The way he repeatedly hits inside you makes it hard for you to concentrate, your only focus is on the overwhelming amount of pleasure you feel, each thrust forward coaxing you closer to another orgasm.

You begin to fall forward, your head resting on Joost's shoulder, as your chest collides into his. Your bodies are hot, sticky with a thin sheen of sweat, and the heat he gives off is almost unbearable as you rest against him. But the rest of your body is far too overwhelmed to sit up straight

"I love you," You slur out against his neck, dizzy off adoration and pleasure.

"I love you too, liefje," His hands lose their grip on your ass, instead his arms coming around to hold you at the waist. Joost places small kisses on your shoulder as your movements quicken, losing any pace, "I love you so much." He reiterates.

You're close, heat building in your abdomen as every muscle in your body constricts. You know you can't hold on much longer, your orgasm about to hit you at any moment now.

"I'm gonna-" You sputter, unable to finish your sentence as its broken by a sharp moan, your cunt clenching as an intense wall of pleasure smacks right into you. Your eyes flutter, your whole body twitching as your pussy spasms around Joost's cock, causing him to groan, your movements becoming sloppier as your release spills out of you, lewd, wet sounds filling the room.

"Good," Joost exhales, "Cum all over my cock, liefje."

Your orgasm soon disappears as Joost continues to thrust upwards into you, pleasure soon turning into overstimulation as you slump completely into him.

"Not much longer," He reassures, "You're doing so good."

Tears begin to spill down your cheeks at the feeling, your already sensitive nerves being worked to the extreme.

Joost's hips start to staccato, his thrusts becoming sharp, causing you to yelp into the spot where your head is buried into his neck. He grips you tighter, feeling like he's about to suffocate you before with a last grunt he's spilling into you, warm ribbons of cum coating the walls of your cunt with a few final thrusts.

Your body is trembling as you attempt to lift yourself up from where you lay against Joost, your body still tingling with lingering pleasure. Your eyelids are low as you look at Joost, your face carrying an entirely blissed-out expression.

A smile falls on Joost's lips,

"Oh," He chuckles, a hand coming up to wipe the tears from your cheek, "These are the only tears I ever want to make you cry."

You return a smile to him before his expression changes,

"Het spijt me, schatje" (I'm sorry, baby), His words are full of regret, "I'm so sorry for how things have been."

"I know," Your voice barely a whisper, "I'm sorry too."

"Things will be better, now that I'm home," He presses a kiss to your shoulder, "I promise."

"I know- I know they will," You nod.

If there was anything you knew for certain, you knew that you and Joost loved each other too much to stop fighting for your relationship. A rough patch of a few weeks had been nothing in comparison to the countless happy memories the two of you shared.

"Ik hou van jou, liefje," Another kiss to your shoulder, "Don't ever forget that."

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #rpf #joost klein fic #joost klein fanfic #joost klein x f! reader

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mins-fins · 4 months

Text

can't take my eyes off of you

&&. being in a relationship with na jaemin makes your heart rate pick up in just the slightest.

pairing: na jaemin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, idol!jaemin x makeup artist!reader

warnings: none! jaemin is just a little shit

word count: 0.6k

notes: this is much shorter than what i usually write im sorry im just in my nana feels right now 💗 na jaemin afshsgsssys 😖😖 he has me doing backflips on my bed with how insanely beautiful he is (is NOT athletic at all) also yes the title is based off the song by lauryn hill bc ms. lauryn hill actually saved my life with her studio album!! okay enough of me enjoy ( ≧ᗜ≦)

of course he's a fucking multitasker.

having to deal with na jaemin not only filming, but undressing you with his eyes at the same time was a prospect you never thought you'd see with your own two eyes.

but alas, here you are, getting stared down by the alluring center of nct dream. his eyes holding a certain gaze he'll only ever show to you, the members have already been eliminated in his eyes, and with filming the furthest thing from his mind, you're currently his main focus.

you sigh and shake your head, cheeks reddening as you hear his distant snicker in reply. you just turn your head to watch him from behind the camera, he looks beautiful, a bewitching sight in the lens of the film before you.

another touch-up.

the director yells cut, and jaemin turns on his heel to beeline towards you, the members' chatter fading into the air as a smirk tugs on his lips. you know it won't be the last time he has to come to you for another touch-up, he messes around constantly, often smudging his lipstick in the process, a mistake that you often have to fix. being a makeup artist isn't easy, especially with this demon as your boyfriend.

"hey beautiful stranger" he grins, white teeth on display.

he's staring at you as if he's about to devour you, unashamed in the way he licks his lips as he looks you up and down.

"hi jaemin" you answer back with a small smile.

"jaemin? no baby? no honey?"

he teases you softly, lips jutted in a pout as he nudges your shoulder. there's a spark in his eye, one that reminds you of exactly who you're dating. he knows it's risky to be acting so lovey dovey with you in a room full of other staff, but he just can't contain his love for you, you're so precious.

"not now, nana.. come on, let me fix those lips of yours".

he steps closer, and you start working, his breath tickles your fingers as you start to apply a new layer of lipstick. a smile breaks on his face and his hands slip around your hips.

"jaemin".

"have i told you how gorgeous you look today, baby?"

you roll your eyes, giving a final look at your work.

"you always do, and you look amazing by the way".

he hums, moving away from you as he clicks his tongue. "all because of you, y/n".

and then he's turning again, going back to filming as he begins whistling the tune to the group's title track.

when he turns back to stare at the camera, he slyly winks at you, an action that has your cheeks reddening to the color of your burgundy tshirt.

cut!

he walks up to you with dangerous eyes, and you already know the teasing is about to get worse.

"y/n, my dear stunning makeup artist".

somehow, his voice manages to get even lower, a revelation which makes you involuntarily shudder, a shudder he clearly picks up on, if his smirk is any indication. the distance between you two is safe this time, his hands placed obediently behind his back. you break into a soft smile, and jaemin giggles, scrunching his nose.

the movement accidentally smudging the lipstick at the corner of his lips.

"jaemin".

"i'm sorry, sweetheart, i can't help it when i have such a cutie in front of of me that i love so much".

"ugh, shut up, let me fix that".

you bring your thumb to the corner of his mouth, trying to erase his tiny mistake.

you hear him take a deep breath, then exhale as his head turns towards you, your finger ending up right on top of his lips.

you look up and lock eyes with him.

his lips quirk up into a smile, and he places a gentle kiss to the pad of your thumb, a swift sweep of the tongue.

he pulls back with half-lidded eyes.

back in 30 seconds!

then he's gone again, back on the set as if nothing happened.

yeah, you're doomed.

#na jaemin #nct #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #nct dream x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin drabbles #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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synthetickitsune · 7 days

Text

Woozi (SVT) | Afterglow fluff | 0.6k | gn!reader warnings: mentions of previous sexual activities but nothing explicit

His eyes are so bright. It's not exactly a fresh observation but everything feels new, somehow. Maybe you're only still coming back to your senses. All of him is bright. And he's bright, inside and out. And it doesn't register in your brain that he can't read your thoughts and so your wide smile and fond eyes make no sense to him.

"What is it?" Jihoon asks, one of his hands coming up to stroke your cheek. If he's bright, then you’re soft. He marvels at the long-known and yet somehow new revelation. He runs the very tips of his fingers up and down your cheek and the side of your face. You’d give into him so easily if he pressed, but he won’t. He feels each little dip and tiny scar and he's so glad you're you, and not some perfect doll playing at being human. He could touch you forever. And, like you, he too doesn't think to tell you. Maybe you'll be able to read it from the lift of the corners of his lips.

"What is it?" you mirror and he laughs softly before pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips are so soft. His kiss makes you feel like you're glowing from the inside.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against your lips, unashamed to tell you how he feels in the precious minutes when you’re covered by the blanket of serenity and satisfaction.

“You too,” …but he remains bashful when it’s his turn to accept praise.

Reality threatens to burst your little bubble soon - you'll need to clean up. You're both sweaty, and the sheets are messy, and your bodies are messy too, but you want to stay like this forever - to simply float on a cloud with Jihoon by your side. His smile could chase storm clouds away.

"Come closer," is what he says, but it's different words you hear and that you return by pressing a lingering kiss to the underside of his jaw as you cuddle up to him. You will yourself to ignore the drying bodily fluids on your skins.

His arms are strong but gentle around you, and you let yourself feel small and vulnerable for a second. A rare treat that you both only allow yourself with each other. And even so you don’t usually get the courage to unless it’s in the moments like this. You breathe in deeply his scent, a hint of his cologne still present, just like he can faintly smell your shampoo in your hair.

There's no need to say anything more. Soon the endorphins will give way to the rest of what you can feel but until then, you want to bask in his warmth and the feeling of his nails scratching lightly along your spine. He, too, seems reluctant to even think about pulling away from your lips singing sweet praises into his ear, genuine reassurances that he'd usually shy away from.

Right now, though, he's already naked and so are you, and you're so soft and pliant under his touch that he can show as much trust in you as you show him. What would be the point in hiding if you’ve already bared yourselves to each other completely?

Jihoon closes his eyes again and nuzzles further into your hair. You fit so well against his body, like with each embrace you’re molding yourself into him. It’s a nice thought, that you’d become the one who’s meant to be for each other. Without the intervention of fate, destiny, without supernatural ties and bonds. Just two humans loving each other, choosing each other for no other reason than love and trust.

It’s a foreign feeling. A scary one too. Do you feel scared like he does? Does it make your heart race just like his? He hugs you closer. Doubts are for later. For now he only needs to hold you.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #woozi scenarios #svthub #woozi fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt reactions #drabble

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teapartyprincess4two · 6 months

Note

Can you make a Latina reader x Matt sturniolo smut? You can make it up how you want it

Lipstick- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Thick!Latina!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, smut

inspiration: request^^

translations: embedded within the story!

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of Spanish, Hispanic/ Latino culture mentioned, established relationship, slight cursing, traditional parents, mentions of alcohol, didn’t name any of the side characters, long

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

—

Matt sits in the living room, nervous hands playing with the keys that hang from his belt loop. Your mother keeps him company, sitting on the sofa across from him as she asks him a plethora of personal and uncomfortable questions. Latina mothers are unashamed to prod into the personal life of others, especially when meeting their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.

You’ve only been dating Matt for a couple of months, and although he seems like a nice kid, she’s not entirely sure she can trust your judgment just yet. The few boys you’ve brought home before haven’t always necessarily met her high standards. Matt hasn’t done anything to throw her off yet, but she’s sure she’ll find something to dislike. If he manages to stick around long enough, though, he’d surely grow on her.

“So what do you do for work?” your mom asks, momentarily looking up from her latest costura project to catch Matt’s anxious gaze. She expertly weaves the string in and out of the white lace, forming an intricate floral design in the process.

[translation: costura- sewing]

“Oh um… my brothers and I we make YouTube videos,” Matt doesn’t know where to look, he’s afraid to make eye contact but also afraid that if he doesn’t it’ll come off as disrespectful. He’s never been so nervous in his life, and from the look on your mother’s face he can tell that that’s probably not what she wanted to hear.

Your mother scoffs, obviously unimpressed with his answer. “Esta niña, siempre saliendo con los más huevones,” she turns her head towards the stairs. Matt’s been waiting for you to descend for over 30 minutes, and the awkward tension was even becoming too much for her.

[translation: “This girl, always going out with the laziest ones.”]

Matt coughs, taking a quick swig of the water bottle in front of him. He’s nervous, his hands are clammy and he has no idea what your mom just said. What was taking you so long?

“So is YouTube gonna pay the bills?” your mom was abrasive and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. In her eyes, nobody was worthy enough of her babygirl. Matt remains silent, he doesn’t even know what to say, so she continues, “You know, when you two start having kids.”

The thought of having children at 20 years old terrifies Matt beyond belief, he can feel his hands getting clammier by the second. He understands that it’s a cultural dissonance, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. “We’re not planning on any kids soon, ma’am. We haven’t— Um, we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice trembles slightly, your mom was doing a good job of intimidating him.

Matt takes another swig of his water, his mouth was dry and he felt like his throat was closing up. “Oh, but you’re having sex with my daughter right?” the question is so unapologetically bold that it causes Matt to choke on the liquid, some of it managing to dribble down his chin.

“I’m sorry?” he chokes out, but he heard your mom loud and clear.

Finally, as if on queue, Matt hears footsteps coming down the steps. ‘Finally!’ he thinks, watching as your curvy figure rounds the staircase and enters the living room. Matt shoots up from his spot on the couch, his eyes immediately dancing over your entire body.

You’re wearing a fitted, black bodycon dress that reaches just above your knees. The spaghetti straps work to hold your bust in place, a gold necklace dangling delicately above the curves of your breasts. You push your freshly curled hair onto your shoulders, luscious locks framing your face perfectly. White lace-up sneakers adorn your feet, your ankle bracelet glimmering as you walk into the living room.

Matt can’t keep his eyes off of, every aspect of your being pulling him in and putting him in a trance. Your mom notices Matt’s inability to hide his attraction for you, “her eyes are up here!” His face goes beet red, eyes immediately darting up to your face.

You roll your eyes before sending Matt an apologetic smile, “Ya nos vamos, Ma.”

[translation: “We’re leaving, Ma.”]

“Bueno, mi niña. Pórtate bien,” she warns, bringing you in for a strong, warm embrace. Your mom’s change in behavior is so quick it gives Matt whiplash, but he can’t blame her for being standoffish with him. He understands that it’s her mother bear nature.

[translation: “Okay, babygirl. Be good.”]

You kiss your mom on the cheek, your red lipstick staining her face. You turn to Matt with a big, toothy smile sprawled onto your face. “You ready?” you ask, taking his hand in yours as you guide him outside. He nods and hums in response, squeezing your hand as he trails behind you in a lovesick daze. Your ass jiggles with each step and Matt wonders how he ever got so lucky.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologize once you’re in the car, getting situated in the passenger seat. “No problem. You look really beautiful,” he replies, starting the car and doing another once over on your body. You lean over the center console with puckered lips, “kiss?” He happily obliges, your red lipstick instantly transferring onto him. His pants are becoming tighter by the second and you notice it right away. Your relationship is still in its infancy, so even this has you blushing.

“Was my mom nice?”

“Mm yeah, some like that,” he replies with a chuckle, adjusting his pants and beginning the drive to your destination. You know he’s lying, but you’re grateful that he’s courteous enough to put up with your mom’s attitude.

“Just wait till you meet my dad and my siblings. They’re not as bad,” you say, the hum of the car engine and the low music in the background creating a calm atmosphere.

“Can’t wait,” he laughs, and although he’s nervous for when that day finally comes, he’s actually excited to become a constant presence in your life. It might be too early to say it, but he’s definitely falling in love with you, the tent in his pants making it obvious as ever.

—

A year has passed since that day and, as expected, your mom has warmed up to Matt. They aren’t super close yet, but she definitely sees him in a different light. She can tell that he truly cares for you and that what you two share is real, but the real test comes when Matt meets your dad.

Your dad works a lot, the manual labor taking a toll on his body that puts him to sleep as soon as he gets home. So, even if your dad is home when Matt’s around, he’s usually asleep or resting in his room.

Matt was nervous when he met your mom, but he’s TERRIFIED to meet your dad. There are so many factors to take into consideration; the language barrier, the cultural dissonance, the fact that he’s your literal dad! It doesn’t help that your siblings are gonna be there too, all of it makes Matt tremble with unease. But he’s been invited to your family’s cookout so he can no longer postpone it.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, it’s not too cold or too hot. It’s the perfect day for a cookout, and Matt should feel excited, but he doesn’t. Sweaty hands grip the steering wheel as he anxiously drives to your house. Chris and Nick are being dragged along as moral support, but unlike Matt, they’re not nervous.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you guys. I don’t even think they know I’m a triplet,” Matt’s words are coming out a mile a minute as he places the car in park outside your house. The panic is starting to set, and from the looks of it they’re the first ones here. Usually being on time would make Matt proud, but this just means there will be less people to hide behind.

“Dude, it’s gonna be fine. Plus, maybe Y/n has a cute cousin or something and we can be like brother in laws,” Chris is only half-joking. “Gross,” Nick grimaces, hopping off the car and beginning the short walk to your front door. Chris laughs, copying Nick’s actions and following closely behind.

That just leaves Matt. He’s glued to the front seat, mind racing uncontrollably. If he’s going to do this, it needs to be quick and painless or he’ll just psych himself out. He takes one deep breath in and out, unbuckling himself with such fervor that the seatbelt slaps the door. Once he steps out of the car, he takes a second to anchor himself before jogging to catch up to his brothers, who are already ringing your doorbell.

Three minutes pass and no one has opened the door, so Nick rings the doorbell again. “Allí voy, allí voy!” a voice shouts from inside, the door swinging open aggressively to reveal your little sister.

[translation: “I’m going, I’m going!”]

“Oh it’s just you,” she deadpans, moving aside so they can walk in. She slams the door shut, pushing past the stunned trio until she’s at the foot of the stairs. “Y/n’s upstairs,” she says, waving towards the staircase haphazardly.

“Y/N! YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE HERE!” she shouts up the stairs, the loud outburst taking the triplets by surprise.

Your sister is a good 4 years younger and the complete opposite of you. She’s a thin tomboy, wearing an outfit so oversized that she’s drowning in fabric. Her style directly resembles Chris’s, chunky sneakers adorning her feet and a backwards hat resting atop her long, curly hair. A long gold chain that she stole from your older brother hangs from her neck, swaying back and forth as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her makeup is nicely done and her glossy lips are resting in a smirk, she loved embarrassing you.

“Stop yelling, pendeja!” you shout back, head peering from your doorway. Your sister shoots you an unbothered shrug, turning on her heels and disappearing into the backyard. You descend the stairs, immediately hugging Matt and planting a fat kiss on his lips. Within seconds his lips are the same color as yours, your cherry lipgloss tasting all too familiar.

[translation: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)]

“You guys are early,” you chuckle, pulling away from Matt to greet the other two. “You can blame Matt for that,” Nick says, the four of you walking outside to the backyard patio. The setup is simple but nice, rows of foldable chairs and tables lining the grassy lawn. Coolers are up against the walls of the house, each one filled to the brim with soda, juice pouches, and alcohol.

As Matt is surveying the area, he sees your dad, or at least he thinks he does. A tall, muscular man is working the grill. His shiny, bald head reflects the sun and his tattoos are on full display past the sleeves of his ribbed cotton tank top.

Matt grabs your hand, pulling you back slightly, “Is that your dad?” His voice is hushed, afraid to be heard accidentally.

You follow his gaze, “What? No. That’s my brother.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes Matt, and you instantly clock it, “Don’t worry, babe. Everyone’s gonna love you.” The reassuring words momentarily calm his nerves.

Your older brother’s boisterous voice breaks the moment, “Y/n, go get the rest of the carne from the kitchen!” He’s pinching carne asada, elote, and cebolla off of the grill with long metal tongs, stacking it neatly on a metal tray.

[translation: carne- meat, carne asada- grilled meat, elote- corn, cebolla- onion]

Chris is the first to approach your brother, his friendly nature making it easy for him to talk to new people,“Dude, that smells good!”

Your brother is very kind, his scary appearance completely juxtaposing his hospitable personality. He’s wearing baggy jean shorts and black air forces with a matching gold chain and bracelet. The black sunglasses that rest on his face make him look unapproachable, but the warm smile he offers Nick and Chris makes up for it.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you quickly peck Matt’s cheek, once again staining his face with your lipstick. Matt hums in response, joining the rest of the men around the grill.

“I feel like I’m seeing triple. I didn’t even know there was three of y’all,” your brother jokes, offering them each a firm handshake. Even though they’ve heard the joke millions of times before the triplets laugh.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Nick laughs.

“Bet you do. Which of you is dating my sister, though?” your brother asks, but he knows the answer; the red kiss on Matt’s cheek is a dead giveaway.

“That would be this lucky guy,” Nick replies, shaking Matt’s shoulders playfully. Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red and he can’t stop himself from smiling, he truly was lucky. “If the red lipstick on his face doesn’t tell you, then his smile surely will,” Chris chimes in, his finger smudging the makeup on Matt’s face.

Your brother laughs, “Yeah you might wanna wipe that off before el jefe gets back.”

[translation: el jefe- the boss (masculine, a nickname commonly used when referencing one’s father)]

“Oh shit,” Matt mutters, scrambling for a nearby napkin and rubbing it along his face feverishly.

—

An hour has passed and no one else has arrived yet, I guess the triplets didn’t get the memo that Hispanics are almost always fashionably late. Your brother is still working the grill, immersed in an entertaining conversation with Nick about God knows what. Chris, on the other hand, is playing soccer with your sister. He keeps either kicking the ball over the fence or missing it completely, his clumsy actions make your sister laugh uncontrollably.

You sit with Matt at one of the many tables, hands intertwined as you both anxiously await your parents arrival. “He should be back by now,” you mumble, a restless leg bouncing up and down. You knew Matt would make a good first impression on your dad, but you were still nervous.

It’s almost like you summoned him, the familiar sound of your dad’s pickup truck ringing in your ears as he pulls into the driveway. “Is that him?” Matt asks, grip tightening on your palms. “Yeah that’s him. Don’t be nervous, my dad is nice,” you reply, but you’re equally as anxious.

Your dad’s first words do nothing to help your case, you’re just glad Matt can’t understand them, “Vengan a ayudar, huevones!”

[translation: “Come help, lazies!”]

“Lemme go help, you stay here. Okay?”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“Actually yeah, good idea.”

Matt follows you to the front yard, he’s so beyond nervous that his hands are practically dripping with sweat. Your dad senses Matt’s presence immediately, “Y este pinche güey que?”

[translation: “Who’s this fucking guy?”]

“Pa! No seas feo!” you exclaim, but your dad just rolls his eyes and silently instructs you to unload the truck. He bought more alcohol for the party, because when you’re Hispanic you can never have enough.

[translation: “Pa! Don’t be ugly!”]

“Es tu novio o que?” your dad asks, grunting as he picks up two cases of beer. He rests them on his shoulders with ease, he’s so strong that it intimidates Matt. “Yes, dad. He’s my boyfriend,” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes.

[translation: “Is he your boyfriend or what?”]

Your dad, much like your brother, is also bald. The greatest differences between the two men are the wrinkles that crease near your dad’s eyes when he smiles, his long bushy beard, and his protruding beer belly. “Nice to meet you,” your dad finally directs his attention towards Matt, offering him a genuine smile as his thick accent butchers the words.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Matt replies, picking up a case of alcohol as to make himself useful. Your dad can tell that Matt’s nervous, and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you dating, he decides to take it easy on him. He’s heard stories about Matt from your mom and by the way you look at him, your dad knows he’s the one.

As your dad enters the backyard, absolutely shocked to see Chris and Nick. Never in his life has he met a twin, let alone triplets, “Ay güey! Hay tres? No chingues, creo que me mareé.” Everyone, except for the triplets who have no idea what’s going on, laughs at your dad’s statement.

[translation: “Oh shit! There’s three? Fuck, I think I just got dizzy.”]

“I think he likes you,” you shrug, a sly smile playing on your face. Matt suddenly feels confident, all the nerves washing away.

—

As the hours pass, the party becomes less innocent as everyone becomes more and more inebriated. Matt’s chatting with some of your uncles and cousins, a cold beer resting in his hands. He’s been nursing the same bottle all night, only sipping from it occasionally.

You’re on the opposite end of the lawn, sitting at a table with your chismosa cousin. “Your man is so handsome, prima. If you find another one like that, send him my way.”

[translation: chismosa- gossiper (feminine), prima- cousin (feminine)]

“He does have a brother,” you joke, eyes still trained on Matt. You needed to get him alone in the house, away from prying eyes.

You could think of so many actual reasons you needed him right now, though. First, he was being such a gentleman with your family. He introduced himself and made small talk despite the evident language barrier. Secondly, when you served him a plate, he finished it faster than you’ve ever seen him eat anything. Then, when he got up for seconds, he moaned as the delicious flavors melted in his mouth.

Everyone loved him, and for whatever reason that turned you on. The longer you looked at him, the wetter you became. You’re clenching your thighs together, the sheer thought of him making you squirm. Before you know it, you’re excusing yourself from your cousin and walking up to Matt with a random excuse as to why you need him inside.

“Hey is everything okay?” Matt whispers, hands resting on your hips. His head is crooked down towards you, lips capturing yours briefly before resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, just missed you,” your breathy words fan his lips as you place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and travel them down his neck.

Although he welcomes the feeling, you’re both standing in the kitchen and if anyone were to walk in they’d catch the intimate moment. That’s the last thing he wanted, especially not after making a good first impression, “not here, baby.”

You pout, completely retracting yourself from Matt, “okay.”

“No, wait. I said not here,” he pulls you back in as he looks around the house in search of another secluded area, not wanting to completely abandon your touch.

“Then where?” your voice is sultry and inviting.

“Outside?” it’s the first thing that comes to Matt’s mind, and the suggestion breaks you from the mood.

“Outside, Matt? Really? Like what, like a dog?” you have a dumbfounded look on your face, almost like you can’t believe he even suggested it.

“No, like, in my car,” he dangles the keys in front of your face before pulling you back in for a heated kiss.

The kiss seems to convince you because he’s successfully leading you to his car. The street is dark, only illuminated by a few street lamps, but you find it with ease.

You fumble into the backseat, Matt following behind you giddily. “We have to be quick, okay?” you whisper, pulling Matt in for another kiss by the collar.

“You know I like taking my time with my girl,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, a playful scoff falling from your lips. You scoot further into the back seat, making room for Matt as he situates himself between your legs.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he brushes a stray curl away from your face, a gentle hand caressing your cheek. “Hmm yes, but I could hear it again,” you turn your face, kissing his palm.

“You look beautiful today,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. You mould into each other, your lips fitting perfectly against his. Matt grinds himself down on you, momentarily breaking from you long enough for you to feather kisses along his neck.

With each kiss comes an affirmation, “I’m. So. Proud. Of. You.” It’s too dark to see, but you’re leaving lipstick marks all over him. The praises send blood rushing to his dick as you continue, “You did so good, papi. Just like I knew you would.”

[translation: papi- daddy (bear with me ppl)]

“Yeah? How good?” he eggs you on, relishing in all your sweet words. His hands push your dress up, the fabric scrunching up around your hips to reveal the red lace panties you wore underneath. Matt swears he’s in heaven.

“You did perfect…” your words trail off as you watch Matt remove your underwear in a daze. “How about you show me how good I did?” he grabs your waist, flipping you both over so you’re on top. You let out an excited squeal, your bare cunt coming in contact with his rough denim jeans. His dick is straining against the fabric, begging for release.

You grind onto his clothed penis, one hand resting on his chest as the other pushes your hair out of your face. Matt’s hands instinctively find your hips, a firm grip guiding your swiveling motions.

“Tell me how you want me, baby.”

“Ride me?”

As soon as he says it, you’re wiggling down onto his thighs and unbuckling his pants. Your fingers dance along his erection, teasingly tracing it. Matt bites his lip at the sight, “Please don’t tease.”

“So polite,” you giggle, finally tugging his pants down. His dick slaps against his stomach, the swollen tip already dripping with precum. Your thumb runs across the tip, spreading the lubrication along his shaft.

Matt’s a whimpering mess, propped onto his elbows to get a better view of you. When his hips subconsciously buck into your hand you decide to stop teasing and situate yourself above his crotch, dragging his penis along your wet folds before positioning it right at your entrance.

You’re going so slow, too slow, so Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs handfuls of your ass, pushing you down onto his dick with force. “Matt!” you gasp, the delicious stretch sending you into overdrive.

He doesn’t respond, instead he pushes and pulls your hips so that you’re bouncing on his cock. Your breasts are jiggling rhythmically, threatening to spill out of your dress. Animalistic grunts fill the car as Matt watches your pussy wrap around him, his jaw is slack and his eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure. Your soft whimpers and moans motivate him to keep going.

“You like that?” The car is rocking with the intensity of your movements, windows becoming foggier and foggier with each breathy moan that escapes your lips.

“Yes!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky, the pleasure choking you up. “Use your words, pretty girl,” he grunts, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure approaching.

“It’s so good, papi. So, so, so good,” you babble, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. Your pussy is fluttering around him, the sensation bringing Matt closer to his breaking point.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers, large hands squeezing the skin around your hips so hard that it was sure to bruise. You place loving kisses all over his face, especially on his cheeks and the corners of his mouth.

“I love you,” you moan, chanting his name again and again right after. He’s thrusting up into you feverishly, his pace faltering slightly as you both near your climax. “I love you too, princess. So much,” his voice is strained, strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding you in place as he shoots his warm load into you. His affirmations send you into a state of euphoria as your orgasm washes over you.

He’s peppering kissing all over your chest, whimpers escaping his lips as he comes down from his high. You delicately push his hair off of his sweaty forehead, admiring him as he continues his gentle attack on your chest.

“We should probably get back, babe. They’ll be wondering where we are,” you whisper, but he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to stay like this with you forever.

“Let me enjoy this a little longer,” he murmurs, hooded eyes finally looking up at you. Your lipstick is smudged all over your mouth. “Aww baby, your lipstick is all messed up. You look so cute,” he laughs, attempting to wipe some it off but failing.

He shifts slightly, the streetlights briefly managing to illuminate his handsome face. Your kiss marks are all over, a clear visual representation of how much you love him.

“You’re wearing more of it than I am,” you joke, earning yourself a playful slap on the ass.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: clearly I couldn’t just write a smut right? Lmaoooo idk I had all the characters in my brain & it couldn’t just be smut 😭 hope u enjoy

This is so different from anything I’ve written before so lmk how yall like it & if you enjoy having Spanish in stories w/ the translations in the story💃🏻 also don’t kill me for using papi, i’d gladly call my man papi any day 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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benevolentbones · 3 months

Note

Hey! Don't know how you prefer requests so i will just send it here. Could i please get hotch x reader where hotch is just a lovesick puppy following reader around at work and at home. Maybe some unashamed staring too? Thank you!

lovesick | aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: none just fluff, gender neutral reader

word count: 0.6k ish

a/n: thank you for the request! this is my first time writing for hotch<3 kind of short but, hope you like it:)

“you’re staring again aaron.” you mumbled, a smile creeping onto your face as you filed away papers at your desk.

hotch stood a few feet away, sipping at his coffee, his piercing eyes not leaving your frame as you worked.

“it’s not a crime to watch my beautiful partner.” he muttered lowly.

a blush formed on your face as you stood up, moving towards the fax machine. you were a secretary at the bau and a damn good one, you had met hotch a few years ago and shortly began dating.

he had recommended you for the job as at the time you had just left your old desk job. this one was far more exciting, and you got to see your boyfriend in action.

“don’t you have a case to be working on, aaron?” you asked, a brazen tone to your voice.

“just paperwork for today. and why do that when i can be with you.” he set down his coffee cup on your desk, slinking his way around to where you were refilling the fax machine with a new roll of paper.

hotch stood behind you, wrapping his muscular arms around your torso. he rested his chin in the crook of your neck, letting out a comforted sigh.

at times like these you were happy to have a separate office to everyone else.

when you met hotch, and first starting working at the bau you noticed he acted very different towards the team than you. he was always very reserved, formal and straightforward with everyone else. but when it came to you, god help him he was nothing more than a lovesick puppy.

he often liked to follow you around the office just to be near you, sometimes he would even get you to join the team on long cases because he just didn’t like not being with you. you thought it was the cutest thing.

he began peppering your cheek with kisses, a habit he often did which you would never object to. you loved any form of affection from your boyfriend.

“when are you off work, sweetheart?” he questioned in between kisses.

you turned around to face him, his hold on you not faltering as you did so. you moved your arms up to drape them over his suit clad shoulders.

“whenever you are, love. did you want me to come over?” he questioned, noticing a small smile appear on his lips.

“i would like that.” he leaned in pressing his lips to yours, you melted into the kiss as you often did, every time you kissed hotch it felt like it was for the first time all over again.

he rested his hands on your hips, while yours ran through the hair at the nape of his neck.

you felt yourself getting carried away, so you pulled back.

“unlike you, i have more pressing work to do. may we continue this later?” you joked, placing your palms against his chest.

you could tell he was slightly disappointed, but he knew better than to interrupt your work as it would cause you to have to do overtime.

“i’ll pick up where we left off tonight, see you later.” he pressed a swift kiss to your lips before he made his way out your office door.

“love you!” you called out as he went, dusting yourself off.

“love you more.” he shot you a grin and rounded the corner, finally out of sight.

taglist: @0108s22m @rainoftearss

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch

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zhongrin · 2 years

Text

“you’re not going out like that.”

— you say with a pout and a glare.

or, you stop him before going out because of his clothes.

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, xiao, scaramouche, childe, diluc, pantalone

◇ tags ◇ modern!au, fluff, reader is not ‘controlling’ if that’s what you’re afraid of seeing

◇ a/n ◇ can you buy a zhongli irl off amazon or something i'm asking for a friend- /j

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli raises his eyebrows, questioning ambers seeking an explanation from you.

with a sigh, you stalk towards his side and pinch the thin material of his shirt, berating him nonstop over how the temperature has started to drop outside and how he’ll catch a cold if he doesn’t bundle up.

he lets you drag him back to the bedroom and smiles softly as you rummage through his coats and sweaters, all the while still lecturing him about the importance of his health now that you’re both getting older.

what you don’t know is that he does this purposefully so that you’ll fuss over him. call him whipped, but he adores seeing you care for him like a mother hen; he may trust your love in all its entirety, but he certainly doesn’t mind getting a reminder of it every now and then.

it’s the same reason why he leaves his tie a little crooked every morning: just so you could scold him for how he’s gotten lousy ever since you both got married. he would always chuckle and apologize, but inwardly he just can’t help it; surely all husbands want to be spoiled by their lovely spouse?

childe giggles and winks towards you before gesturing to his outfit with a flair as if he’s in a fashion show model which to be fair he kinda looks the part.

“awh, why not? don’t you want to show off how good this boyfriend of yours look?”

“you mean announce to the whole world that i’m dating a fuckboy? no thanks.”

the brunette pouts at the half-serious, half-joking expression on your face and positions his hands on his hips like a petulant child(e), “oh, i’m sorry that i’m hot and i’m unashamed of it! besides, what can they do? grope me?”

you roll your eyes and slip your hands through the wide gap by the sides of his clothes to grab onto his chest.

childe freezes like deer in headlights, but regains his composure quickly; in a blink, he gives you a playful grin, but before he can utter anything scandalous, you pull him into a kiss and uses the element of surprise to steal his breath away.

and when your boyfriend ends up sprawled under you on the couch fifteen minutes later, you don’t miss the winning smile and happy wrinkle of skin spread across his freckled cheeks.

honestly, he could’ve just told you (you know, like a normal person) if he didn’t actually want to go out, instead of always pulling stunts like this.

kunikuzushi stares at you with half his mouth open, clearly surprised and offended at your statement and the insults you blatantly threw his way right after.

what do you mean he looks like a sleazebag? sure, it’s a hoodie from yesterday(’s yesterday), but it looks fine! it smells bearable! it’s comfy! he’s too lazy to change out of it! not when it’s just a trip down to the nearby cafe!

archons, he’s just a common engineer who builds robots, not some high-strung profile in some fancy mafia organization… is what he insists, and he continues to groan and bemoans his fate even as you brought a change of clothes for him.

he might as well be a cat with how he bristles at your threat of running a bath for him, but he quietens when you double the threat with an offer to ‘scrub his poor scalp clean’.

“….. do it then,” he challenges, crossing his arms like a true brat™️, although his eyes are shining with excitement.

you two end up getting takeouts that night.

xiao pauses from putting on his watch and looks at you quizzically.

why would a dress shirt and slacks be an unacceptable fashion choice? last he checked, you were both just going to visit that favorite restaurant of yours.

the man blinks owlishly at the adorable way you stomp your feet and points to the accessories you’re wearing. he cracks a momentary smile when he recognizes them as the ones he bought for you last week; it’s just as he imagined, they look lovely on you. however, the said quirk of his lips disappears as you tell him that he’s forgotten to wear his matching ones even though he had promised to.

“ah,” he scratches his cheek, “i forgot… tsk, alright, alright, i’ll go change. this outfit won’t work with those colors, let me just-”

you end up late to your reservation and were unable to get a table, but seeing the content smile on your pretty lips when you saw the ‘date night!’ selfie you took on the fast food parking lot in his car, he thinks it’s all worth it.

your smile is always worth it.

“why not-”

“you’re a fashion disaster!”

diluc freezes and honestly if it was anyone else he would have ignored them and stormed off in embarrassment.

but this was you. you matter. your opinions matter. he doesn’t want to embarrass you.

“is… is it that bad?” he asks with a blush on his face as you throw his old coat onto the bed and unbuttons the plain shirt he always defaults to wearing.

your rich but struggling-with-fashion boyfriend watches and listens, as silent as a timid bunny, as you tell him the latest trend and the ‘boyfriend look’ or whatever it was called. he's just helplessly nodding and obeying as you hand him the change of clothes, hoping that will lessen the frown between your brows.

“is this a… bracelet?”

“it’s a choker, luc.”

“but they’re so short.”

“it’s supposed to rest around your throat, dear.”

“oh.”

he’s not sure whether he looks okay or not, but judging from adelinde’s messages bombarding his phone that night, gushing about how proud she is to ‘see that the young master has grown to be able to comprehend fashion trends’ after seeing your instagram stories, he thinks he should just ask you to pick his clothes from now own.

when you tell him he looks like he’s about to brave the cold of the mountains in dragonspine, pantalone hums and tilts his head in thought.

perhaps the coat was too much, he agrees as he discards the thick materials. but you huff and press him to remove his gloves and overcoat, and while he understands that he might have gone overboard in dressing up, given how he’s used to the biting cold of snezhnaya’s freezing climates, he can’t help but smirk at the way you’re hurriedly unbuttoning his clothes.

“my, you look quite desperate for me, sweetheart. are you sure you wish to go out tonight? if you'd like, i can always tell them to send the chef over so we can-”

he chuckles when you hit his chest playfully and lets you modify his clothing as you see fit.

well, no matter. if he gets cold he can always buy a coat outside….

... he still ends up sweating like crazy and he does not understand how you can be perfectly fine in this horrendous heat.

calm down pantalone it’s only like 34 degrees celcius.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #rin writes #zhongli #zhongli x reader #childe #tartaglia #ajax #childe x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #pantalone #pantalone x reader

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fandomfloozy · 10 days

Text

Oh, I'm pretty boy?

pairing: katsuki bakugo x sick!reader

c/w: fluff, early relationship, petnames (katsuki calls reader babe, reader evidently calls katsuki pretty lol), sprinkles of hispanic!reader/spanish-speaking!reader, gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

~°•*~

You've been sick the last few days.

You're on the tail-end of recovery now, thank god, but for most of the week you've been bed-ridden, and snotty, and sweaty, and hot, and cold. It's been miserable, if you're being honest. With the light at the end of the tunnel in view, you're glad the worst of it is over.

There has been one upside to being sickly, though--one aspect that makes you wish you could be sick just one more day: Ever since you fell ill, since the moment he'd heard you were taking leave off work to rest at home for a bit, you've been under the thorough care of your very own, self-appointed nurse, Katsuki.

There's this saying: "You'll never truly know someone well enough until you've seen them struggle financially, grieve a lost loved one, or witness them while they're sick."

Your relationship is new. Not early days, but still far too soon for him to be seeing you sick, for your liking.

But when he showed up at your door a couple days ago--masked up, worry-eyed, and holding all the essentials for treating a typical head cold--how could you refuse him?

And to be fair, he's been a rock. He's changed your compresses (water bowl kept at optimal temperature), given you medicine in intervals (timed and administered to the MINUTE), and even cooked you palatable meals (anything you could keep down, but namely the caldo recipe he got from your mom when he asked her what you ate when you're sick). He did everything short of rubbing Vick's vapo rub on you (not for lack of trying), all while keeping a level head and brushing aside your concerns over feeling like you're burdening him.

"You're my partner," he'd say matter-of-factly. "This is my job, ain't it?"

A rhetorical question. He said it as if it was an irrefutable truth, as if he hadn't even considered an alternative, as if the very thought of leaving you to fend off this cold by yourself was an affront to your relationship, scowl on his face and all.

His bedside manner needed work, but when he said those words to you... let's just say the flush rising up your face probably had nothing to do with the cold.

So, yeah. While you're happy to be feeling better, you can't help being a little disappointed that the doting will soon come to an end.

Which is why you now sit with your head resting in your hands, elbows on the kitchen bar, making the most of admiring a now unmasked Katsuki as he cooks your dinner on what will be the last of your "sick days."

You're unashamed in your ogling. You feel bold. It might be the relaxed atmosphere. It might be the way Katsuki let you wear his hoodie tonight... It might just be the cold medicine. You feel dozy, comfy, and so dopily content as you watch your boyfriend chop vegetables.

He does it with ease--so practiced that it's like he's on autopilot. His defenses are down, completely in his element.

"'Ya sure you want all this cooked in with your rice?" Now that you're feeling better, he's less inclined to hold his tongue about his thoughts on your childhood dishes.

You yawn and nod. "Mhm, it's the way my mami always makes it."

"Just sayin', I could make ya rice without all this extra stuff."

"It's a good thing you're not making rice, Katsuki." You pout dramatically for emphasis. "You're making sopita."

"Sopita," he repeats, shaking his head with a sideways grin. "Alright, babe. I've got you covered. Sopita coming right up."

You switch to resting your cheek in one hand, continuing to observe your boyfriend as he works. He looks so serene this way. With his smug little half smile, even his expression screams "relaxed"--very unlike his usual frown and furrowed brow.

You're not used to seeing him like this. Sure, you've seen him in a good mood, upbeat, excited, even downright elated, like on the day you agreed to go out with him.

Katsuki has always been an... expressive person, even when it doesn't grant him the most flattering of expressions.

Right now, though, while he's contented and caring for you in the comfort of your own home, his features are on display in such a way that you wonder if the cough syrup really is getting to you.

He looks almost...

Pretty...

"You're starin'."

You know you are. "Sorry," you laugh. "I was just thinking how it's a shame you have such a cara de fuchi most of the time, Kats. You're so pretty."

His head snaps toward you. "Fucking WHAT." The furrow is back in his brow. If you were paying proper attention, you'd notice the flush rising up his neck and the back of his ears, but your eyelids are feeling a bit heavy at this point.

You wave your free hand dismissively. "You know, cara de fuchi," you explain. You're sure you've used this phrase in front of him before. "Like you're a sour puss, you pull faces--"

"I'm not fucking pretty," he interrupts.

You open your eyes slightly to squint at him. "Pfft," you laugh. "Has no one ever told you that?"

"Hell, no." He turns back to the task at hand. Grumbling under his breath.

With his signature grimace making its return, the allure is gone; but now that you've seen it, you can't unsee it. He's beautiful. His eyes are a nice shape, and the crimson color of his irises is striking against his light complexion. The way his hair falls just above is strong browbone makes you want to push it back and rub at the scrunch between his brows. And you know he has soft lips, but on top of that, they're such a nice shade of pink. His jawline. His cheekbones. His chin.

It's a fundamental truth. Katsuki Bakugo is pretty.

You fold your arms on the island and press your cheek into the crook of your elbow. "I'm sure people would tell you more often if all the pretty wasn't covered up by your perpetual stank face."

Cue said stank face. He bumbles over his words in frustration for a second. "You're sick and loopy, stop bein' weird."

You giggle. "And you have a nice face when you're not acting chronically disgusted by the world."

He looks at you properly and you smile to yourself in pure delight and fondness.

"You're pretty when you're happy, Katsuki."

He deliberates over it for a moment, stank face semi relaxing. He's about to say something else when you cut into the silence with another yawn.

His gaze softens into an amused smirk as he reaches for your cheek and pinches softly. "Alright, alright. Don't fall asleep on me just yet, you gotta eat properly before goin' to bed."

You swat his hand away and rise to attention while rubbing your eyes. "Okay, okay. I'm up."

He smiles and goes back to cooking your half-prepared meal. "Ponte las pilas, or whatever the hell your mom says when you start lazin' around."

You huff at that. "I regret teaching you Spanish, you always pick up the worst phrases."

Katsuki barks out a laugh and you can't help the snort that follows as you giggle right along with him.

You two settle into the monotony of the last evening of your first of many sick days together. You're sure your boyfriend has had more than enough of witnessing you sick to satisfy stipulations. Suffice to say that he felt he knew you and your "sleepy freak tendencies" a bit better now.

There's definitely an addendum you'd make to that old saying, though: You'll never know how pretty someone is until you've seen them care for you while you're sick.

~°•*~

divider via cafekitsune

gif via ara-kan (deactivated)

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gyorouis · 2 months

Text

𐙚 HEARTSTRINGS.

— "you are mine i am yours, isn't it obvious that there's something one of us wants to admit?"

genre: angst, fluff, bandmates to friends to lovers :>>

pairing: bandmate!beomgyu x afab!reader

warning: swearing, kiss (?), let me know if i forgot anything!

wordcount: 11.8k :>>

now playing: one click straight — mrt ୨ৎ , zild — lia ୨ৎ

if it wasn’t your friend crying to you to join the band, you might have ignored the opportunity altogether. you had heard of the band through chaeyoung, your friend who had harbored a not-so-secret crush on beomgyu for as long as you could remember. she spoke of him with a dreamy look in her eyes, often mentioning his talent and the way he seemed to pour his soul into every note he played.

“he's amazing,” chaeyoung would say, her cheeks flushing slightly. “and so kind. you should see how he treats everyone in the band.”

you nodded along, though your thoughts were often elsewhere, lost in the chords and melodies you created in your room. music had always been your escape, a place where you could express the things words often failed to capture.

one evening, as you sat with chaeyoung at your usual coffee shop, she burst into the room with an excitement you rarely saw in her. she practically bounced over to your table, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and nervous energy. “guess what?” she said, barely able to contain herself. “the band is looking for a new guitarist and vocalist!”

you raised an eyebrow, curious but cautious. “and?”

“and you should totally try out!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. “you’re perfect for it. plus, it would be a great way for me to get closer to beomgyu.”

you chuckled at her transparency. “so this is your grand plan? get me into the band so you can make your move on beomgyu?”

she grinned, unashamed. “exactly. come on, it’ll be fun. and you love playing music. it’s a win-win.”

you sighed, feeling the weight of her request. joining a band was a big commitment, and the thought of performing in front of people made your stomach churn. “i don’t know, chaeyoung. i’m not really a performer. i like playing in my room, where no one can judge me.”

her face fell, and you could see the disappointment in her eyes. “but you’re so talented. it’s a waste to keep all that to yourself. please, just give it a shot. for me?”

you shook your head, standing firm. “i can’t. it’s just too much.”

chaeyoung’s shoulders slumped, and she stared at her coffee cup, her fingers tracing the rim. “i really thought you’d say yes,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “this means a lot to me.”

you felt a pang of guilt, but your mind was made up. “i’m sorry, chaeyoung. i just can’t.”

the next day, chaeyoung showed up at your door, her eyes red and puffy from crying. she looked at you with such desperation that it broke your heart. “please,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “i need this. i need you to help me.”

you were taken aback by her raw emotion. chaeyoung was always so composed, so put-together. seeing her like this, so vulnerable, made you reconsider. “chaeyoung, i… i don’t know if i can do this.”

she grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly. “you can. i know you can. you’re amazing, and this could be such a great opportunity for you. and for us.”

you sighed, feeling the weight of her request. joining a band was a big commitment, but the idea of playing music with others, of sharing that connection, was tempting. besides, you couldn't deny chaeyoung anything when she looked at you with those pleading eyes.

“alright,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i’ll do it.”chaeyoung practically squealed with delight, hugging you tightly. “thank you, thank you, thank you! you won’t regret it, i promise.”

your first encounter with the band took place in their practice studio, a space filled with the rich scent of old instruments and the echo of past performances. when you arrived, beomgyu, yeonjun, taehyun, and kai were already there, their presence creating a lively buzz in the room. the setup was intimate—four chairs arranged in a semi-circle with instruments strewn about, evidence of countless hours spent together.

beomgyu greeted you first, his gaze warm yet scrutinizing. “hey, you must be the new applicant. i’m beomgyu, the bassist.”

you nodded, trying to steady your nerves. “yeah, that’s me. nice to meet you.”

yeonjun, with his easygoing demeanor, flashed a reassuring smile. “i’m yeonjun, the drummer. welcome to the band.”

taehyun, the lead guitarist with an intense focus, gave a nod of acknowledgment. “taehyun. let’s see what you’ve got.”

kai, the youngest and the most energetic of the group, leaned in with a grin. “i’m kai. excited to hear you play!”

as you set up your guitar and adjusted the microphone, the room filled with a quiet anticipation. your heart pounded in your chest as you prepared for your audition. chaeyoung stood by the side, her supportive presence a small comfort amidst your growing anxiety.

you started with a familiar song, one you’d practiced tirelessly in your room. your fingers trembled slightly as you strummed the first chords, your voice wavering but determined. the band members listened intently, their expressions ranging from casual interest to focused concentration.

when you finished, there was a moment of silence. beomgyu broke it with a thoughtful nod. “not bad. your style is different from what we’re used to, but that’s not a bad thing.”

yeonjun added, “i agree. you’ve got potential. it’ll take some time to get used to playing with us, but i think you could fit in.”

taehyun’s gaze was piercing, but there was a hint of approval in his eyes. “we’re looking for someone who can bring something fresh to the table. if you’re up for the challenge, we’d be happy to have you.”

kai, always the enthusiast, clapped his hands. “great job! when can we start practicing together?”

chaeyoung’s eyes sparkled with relief and joy as she hugged you tightly. “see? i told you you’d do great!”

the initial excitement quickly gave way to the reality of integrating into the band. you quickly learned that fitting into their established rhythm was more challenging than you’d anticipated. during the first few practice sessions, you struggled to synchronize with yeonjun’s drumming and taehyun’s lead guitar riffs. your attempts to harmonize with kai’s backing vocals often felt awkward, and you could sense the band’s growing frustration.

one particular practice, as you flubbed a crucial part of a song, yeonjun let out a sigh of frustration. “let’s take that from the top. we need to tighten up.”

beomgyu, sensing your growing frustration, pulled you aside during a break. “hey, don’t worry. it takes time to adjust. let’s work through this together.”

you nodded, grateful for his support. “thanks, beomgyu. i appreciate it.”

over the next few weeks, you and beomgyu spent extra time practicing together. he was patient and encouraging, helping you work through the rough patches. you started to notice a rhythm in your interactions, both musically and personally. he would often tease you about your tendency to overthink and offer playful suggestions to ease your nerves.

one evening, after a particularly successful practice session, you and beomgyu sat on the worn-out couch in the studio, sharing a moment of respite. “so, what made you stick with the band?” you asked, genuinely curious.

beomgyu shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. “i guess i just enjoy making music with people who challenge me. and you’ve definitely brought a new dynamic to our sound.”

you smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “i’m glad to hear that. it’s been tough, but i’m starting to feel like i’m finding my place.”

beomgyu’s gaze softened. “you are. and you’re doing great. it’s all about finding the right groove and getting to know each other.”

with each practice session and performance, the bond between you and the band grew stronger. you started to feel more comfortable, both on stage and off. the initial awkwardness of your role began to fade as you settled into the rhythm of the group. the chemistry between you and beomgyu began to blossom, marked by shared laughter, spontaneous jams, and heartfelt conversations.

one evening, after a particularly grueling rehearsal, you all gathered in the studio’s lounge area. the dim lighting cast a warm glow over the room as the band members slumped into the worn-out couches, still buzzing from the energy of the session.

“hey, that last song was fire,” kai said, stretching out his arms. “we really nailed it.”

beomgyu, his bass still resting on his lap, looked over at you with a grin. “yeah, you were killing it tonight. i think we’ve finally hit our stride.”

you felt a flush of pride at his compliment. “thanks. it felt great playing with you guys.”

“i can tell,” beomgyu replied, his smile widening. “you’ve really found your groove. how’s everything been going for you outside the band?”

“busy,” you said with a laugh. “but it’s all good. i’m actually starting to enjoy the chaos.”

“chaos?” beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “sounds like a good story.”

you shrugged. “nothing too exciting. just balancing school and shits, you know how it is.”

the conversation drifted into lighter topics, with beomgyu and you trading jokes and anecdotes. it was moments like these, away from the pressures of practice, that made you realize how much you valued the connection you were building with him and the rest of the band.

chaeyoung’s efforts to get closer to beomgyu became increasingly noticeable. she would often linger after practice, her laughter ringing out in the studio as she shared stories and asked questions about his music. she seemed to be making every effort to draw his attention, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

one evening, chaeyoung caught you off guard as she approached you with a conspiratorial smile. “hey, so, did you notice how beomgyu was totally into that last song we played?”

you chuckled. “yeah, he seemed pretty pumped about it.”

chaeyoung leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “i’m thinking of asking him to grab coffee sometime. you know, just to talk more about his music. what do you think?”

“sounds like a good idea,” you replied, trying to sound supportive even though you felt a pang of discomfort. “i’m sure he’d love to chat more about it.”

“great!” chaeyoung said, her eyes lighting up. “i was hoping you’d help me figure out a good way to ask him. maybe during our next session?”

“sure,” you said with a nod, masking your unease. “i can help.”

despite your efforts to support chaeyoung, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being caught in an awkward middle ground. you found yourself often standing back while chaeyoung and beomgyu engaged in deep conversations, your role feeling secondary. yet, even with this small discomfort, you still cherished the moments when you could connect with beomgyu and the rest of the band.

one evening, as the band wrapped up a particularly intense practice session, chaeyoung seized the opportunity to suggest they all grab dinner together. her tone was casual, but you could sense her underlying intent to include beomgyu in the plans.

“hey, we should all go out for dinner after practice,” she said with a bright, almost conspiratorial smile. “there’s this great new place i’ve been wanting to try. what do you think, beomgyu?”

beomgyu, who was adjusting the strap on his bass guitar, looked up with a thoughtful expression. “sure, that sounds good. i’m always up for trying new places.”

chaeyoung’s eyes lit up with excitement. “awesome! it’ll be fun to hang out outside of practice.”

you hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement. “sounds great. i’d love to join.”

the group made their way to the restaurant, and you found yourself feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. the place chaeyoung had picked was cozy, with dim lighting and a menu full of intriguing options. as everyone settled into their seats, chaeyoung made a point to sit next to beomgyu, her body angled towards him as she began chatting animatedly about the restaurant’s unique dishes.

“so, have you tried the truffle fries here?” chaeyoung asked, leaning slightly closer. “i’ve heard they’re amazing.”

beomgyu, who was studying the menu, looked up with a smile. “no, but they sound great. i’m definitely down to try them.”

chaeyoung’s excitement was palpable. “perfect! we’ll get a bunch of appetizers to share. oh, and what about your favorite bands, beomgyu? i’m curious to know what kind of music you’re into.”

beomgyu chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention. “i’m into a mix of stuff—rock, jazz, a bit of indie. it really depends on my mood.”

as the evening unfolded, you couldn’t help but notice how chaeyoung maintained close proximity to beomgyu. she’d casually brush against him when reaching for the shared dishes or laugh a little too loudly at his jokes. each time she did, you could see the subtle pleasure in her eyes, and it was clear she was trying to catch his attention.

your own attempts at conversation felt stilted in comparison. you chatted with kai and the others, but whenever you tried to join in the conversation with beomgyu and chaeyoung, it felt like you were intruding. you awkwardly sipped your drink, trying to find a way to fit into the lively exchange.

as the evening progressed, you ended up sitting across from beomgyu. you watched him more closely now, observing the comfortable ease in his demeanor. he seemed genuinely engaged with chaeyoung, listening attentively and responding with thoughtful comments. his laughter was warm, and his eyes sparkled with a genuine interest that made you feel both envious and intrigued.

chaeyoung’s laughter was infectious, and it seemed to draw beomgyu in even more. “so, beomgyu,” she asked, her voice bright, “what inspired you to pick up the bass in the first place?”

beomgyu leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “i’ve always loved the rhythm and the groove. my older brother used to play, and i guess i just wanted to follow in his footsteps. plus, there’s something about the bass that just feels... essential to the music.”

“that’s really cool,” chaeyoung said, her eyes wide with admiration. “i love how passionate you are about it.”

you watched the exchange, feeling a pang of discomfort as you saw how effortlessly chaeyoung connected with beomgyu. you admired his passion, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit sidelined in the conversation.

the evening ended with everyone feeling satisfied and relaxed, the conversations flowing easily. as you all walked back to your respective homes, chaeyoung was buzzing with excitement, clearly thrilled with how the night had gone. you, on the other hand, found yourself lost in thought, as to why you are feeling a sudden thug on your chest upon remembering how close chaeyoung was with beomgyu earlier, and it felt wrong, you should’ve feel this way, not when your bestfriend if finally having more time with her crush.

another day, during a band rehearsal, chaeyoung suggested you help her with a surprise project for beomgyu—a personalized guitar pick. she wanted to give it to him as a gesture of appreciation for all his hard work and dedication. you agreed, though your heart wasn’t fully in it. you couldn’t help but wonder if this was her way of marking her territory, claiming her place in beomgyu’s life.

as you worked on the project together, chaeyoung’s enthusiasm was evident. “i really think this will make him happy,” she said, her eyes shining with hope. “he’s always so dedicated to the band, and this is a small way to show our appreciation.”

you nodded, trying to share in her excitement. “yeah, it’s a nice gesture. he’ll definitely appreciate it.”

when the day finally came to present the gift, chaeyoung was practically bouncing with anticipation. you watched as she handed the guitar pick to beomgyu, her smile radiant with pride. he accepted it with a surprised look, clearly touched by the thoughtful gesture.

“thanks, chaeyoung,” he said, his voice warm. “this is really cool. you didn’t have to, but i appreciate it.”

you could see the way chaeyoung’s eyes sparkled with happiness, but you also noticed the way beomgyu’s gaze lingered on her, a soft smile playing on his lips, and it made your heart twist with a confusing mix of emotions.

despite your efforts to help chaeyoung, you began to notice subtle changes in beomgyu’s behavior towards you. at band practices, his interactions with you became more frequent and personal. what had once been brief exchanges about setlists and practice schedules now turned into longer conversations that delved into more personal territory.

one afternoon, as you were setting up your gear, beomgyu approached you with a thoughtful expression. “hey, i’ve been meaning to ask,” he started, casually leaning against the wall, “what’s your favorite song to play?”

you looked up, a bit surprised by the question. “oh, um, that’s a tough one. i really like ‘wonderwall’ by oasis. it’s got a great vibe.”

beomgyu nodded, his eyes lighting up with interest. “nice choice. i love that song too. the melody is just... it’s so catchy, you know?”

“yeah, exactly,” you replied, feeling a bit more at ease. “what about you? what’s your favorite?”

beomgyu thought for a moment. “i’d have to say ‘under the bridge’ by the red hot chili peppers. there’s something about the way the bass line carries the song that just resonates with me, but if i have to brag to someone, i’d choose any arctic monkey’s song.” he chuckles.

as he spoke, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered on you, a soft intensity in his eyes that made your heart race. there was a warmth in his expression that made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

the change in his behavior wasn’t limited to just band practice. during breaks, he would often find reasons to sit near you, casually mentioning his latest musical experiments or asking for your opinions on new tracks he was working on. his conversations with you were filled with personal anecdotes and stories from his life, and he seemed genuinely interested in hearing about yours.

one evening after practice, as the band packed up, beomgyu casually walked over to where you were putting away your equipment. “so, you mentioned you’re studying music theory. how’s that going?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

you glanced up, surprised by his interest. “it’s going well. it’s a lot of theory and practice, but i’m getting the hang of it. why do you ask?”

“just curious,” he said with a grin. “i’ve always thought about diving deeper into theory myself. it’s fascinating how it all connects.”

you smiled, feeling a sense of connection. “yeah, it is. it’s like uncovering the secrets behind the music.”

“exactly,” beomgyu said, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “hey, i’ve been meaning to ask if you’d like to come to a jam session this weekend. just a few of us hanging out and playing some music. it could be fun.”

your heart skipped a beat. “that sounds awesome. i’d love to.”

“great,” beomgyu said, his smile widening. “i’ll text you the details.”

as the week went on, you found yourself looking forward to the jam session with increasing anticipation. the way beomgyu interacted with you made you feel special, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind his actions.

the jam session arrived, and it was as laid-back and enjoyable as you had hoped. you found yourself immersed in the music, with beomgyu often glancing over at you with a smile that made your heart flutter. during a break, as you all sat around with drinks and snacks, beomgyu casually asked, “so, what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to try musically but haven’t had the chance to yet?”

you thought for a moment. “i’ve always wanted to experiment with producing my own tracks. it seems like a fun way to explore different sounds and styles.”

“that’s cool,” beomgyu said, nodding thoughtfully. “i’ve done a bit of that myself. if you ever want to collaborate or need any tips, just let me know. i’d be happy to help.”

“thanks,” you said, feeling a rush of excitement. “i might take you up on that.”

the evening ended on a high note, with everyone in good spirits and the music flowing effortlessly. as you said your goodbyes, beomgyu lingered a bit longer, his gaze meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart race.

“it was really great having you there tonight,” he said, his voice soft. “i hope we can do it again soon.”

“me too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “i had a lot of fun.”

“awesome,” beomgyu said with a smile. “i’ll see you at practice.”

as you walked home, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting between you and beomgyu. his attention and the personal nature of your conversations left you both exhilarated and curious about where things might lead.

one afternoon, after a particularly intense practice, beomgyu approached you with a small, hesitant smile. “hey, do you have a minute?”

you nodded, feeling a flutter of anticipation. “sure, what’s up?”

he led you to a quieter corner of the studio, away from the others. “i was thinking,” he began, his voice slightly uncertain, “that maybe we could work on a new song together. just the two of us.”

you felt a rush of excitement mixed with apprehension. “m-me? i mean, yeah, w-we could!”

as you worked on the song together, the atmosphere between you shifted. there were moments when your hands brushed, your eyes meeting in shared understanding. beomgyu’s smiles became more frequent, and his laughter seemed to come more easily around you. it was clear that he enjoyed your company and valued your input, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more behind his gestures.

one evening, as you and beomgyu took a break from working on the song, he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “you know,” he said softly, “i’ve really enjoyed getting to know you. you’ve got this way of making everything seem... better.”

you were taken aback, your breath catching in your throat. “thanks, beomgyu. i’ve enjoyed working with you too.”

his gaze lingered, and you could feel the tension in the air. there was a moment of silence before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “i’m glad you’re here.”

your internal conflict grew more pronounced as these interactions continued. you started to realize that your feelings for beomgyu were deepening, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore them. you found yourself torn between your desire to support chaeyoung and your own growing affection for him.

one evening, as you and chaeyoung were leaving the studio, she turned to you with a hopeful smile. “so, how do you think things are going with beomgyu?”

you hesitated, unsure how to answer. “he’s been really great. we’ve been working on some new music together, and it’s been... good.”

chaeyoung’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “i knew you’d get along! i’m so glad. do you think he likes me?”

you swallowed hard, the weight of your promise to chaeyoung heavy on your shoulders. “i’m sure he does. he seems to appreciate everything you’ve done for him.”

as you walked away, you felt a deep sense of conflict. the more time you spent with beomgyu, the more your own feelings grew. but you had made a promise to chaeyoung, and the thought of betraying that promise weighed heavily on you.

it was becoming increasingly clear that this situation would be more complicated than you had anticipated. your growing affection for beomgyu and your loyalty to chaeyoung were pulling you in different directions, leaving you to grapple with the tangled emotions that had become an inescapable part of your life.

the band had just wrapped up a particularly intense practice session. the studio, once alive with vibrant energy and the hum of instruments, now felt eerily still and heavy. sweat beaded on your brow as you put away your guitar, your fingers still tingling from the final, emotionally charged chords. the song you’d been working on was deeply emotional, its raw lyrics and haunting melody leaving everyone exhausted yet exhilarated. the last note seemed to linger in the air like a whisper of shared sentiment, an echo of the vulnerability and connection you all had just experienced.

as you wiped your face with a towel, you glanced around the studio and noticed beomgyu watching you from across the room. his usual playful demeanor was replaced by something more intense, almost somber. his eyes, usually bright and mischievous, were now soft and contemplative, their gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

beomgyu approached you as the band members began to pack up, their casual chatter and the clatter of equipment creating a backdrop of normalcy. “you were incredible tonight,” he said, his voice low and almost lost in the noise of the studio. the sincerity in his tone made your heart skip a beat. his eyes held a softness you hadn’t seen before, making it hard to catch your breath.

“thanks, beomgyu,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure. your voice came out softer than you intended, almost betraying the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

the air between you was thick with unspoken words, each of you caught in a delicate dance of emotion. the studio, once a lively hub of activity, now felt like a small, enclosed space where every glance and gesture seemed amplified. as the others began to leave, their conversations fading into the background, beomgyu’s eyes remained locked on yours.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken urgency.

you nodded, your heart pounding as you led him to a quieter corner of the studio. the silence that followed was almost unbearable, filled with the lingering echoes of your previous song. the room seemed to close in around you, the weight of anticipation pressing down on you both. beomgyu’s gaze was unwavering, a mix of vulnerability and resolve that made your own feelings swell.

“w-what do you wanna talk about?” you could feel the tension in the air, thick and charged, as beomgyu took a step closer. his eyes searched yours, seeking something that neither of you could quite name. suddenly, he leaned in, and his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and probing, as if he were trying to convey everything he felt in that single, fleeting moment. it was a kiss filled with longing, confusion, and an unspoken plea for clarity. the contact was gentle yet electrifying, an exploration of something deeply felt but hard to articulate.

when he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, asking questions without words. you could see the hope and fear reflected in them, a mirror to your own tumultuous feelings. the silence stretched between you, each of you grappling with the weight of the moment.

“beomgyu...” you began, your voice trembling despite your attempt at calmness. “i can’t, we can’t.”

his brow furrowed in confusion and hurt. “why?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. the pain in his eyes was palpable, and it made your heart ache even more.

“we shouldn’t,” you replied, each word feeling like a weighty anchor dragging you down. the finality in your voice was almost a physical force, pushing him away. the room seemed to contract around you, intensifying the emotional distance that had suddenly opened up between you.

beomgyu’s expression shifted from confusion to hurt, and he took a step back, his shoulders slumping slightly. “i... i thought...”

without waiting for a response, you turned and fled the studio. the dim light of the corridor felt cold against the warmth of the emotions you were trying to escape. your heart pounded in your chest, each step away from him a painful reminder of the feelings you couldn’t fully confront. the echoes of your last moments with beomgyu seemed to follow you, a haunting reminder of what had just transpired.

as you reached the outside, the cool night air did little to calm the storm within you. you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your breathing, but the image of beomgyu’s hopeful eyes lingered in your mind, a painful reminder of what you had just denied.

the next few days were a blur of avoidance and reflection. you found yourself retreating from the band, your absence a noticeable gap in the group's dynamic. rehearsals felt awkward without your presence, the energy of the room slightly diminished. your decision to distance yourself from beomgyu and the band was driven by a chaotic swirl of emotions, leaving you feeling paralyzed and uncertain.

you spent long hours alone, grappling with the confusion and guilt that had taken over your thoughts. the warmth of beomgyu's kiss replayed in your mind, contrasting sharply with the clarity of your decision to pull away. every time you tried to rationalize your feelings, you found yourself trapped in a loop of doubt and self-recrimination.

your avoidance of the band was evident. when kai called you, his voice laced with concern, you made excuses. “i’m just swamped with assignments,” you said one evening, though the truth was far more complex and painful. “i need to catch up on some studying.”

kai’s voice softened, but you could hear the disappointment and worry. “you’ve been MIA for a while. we miss you. is everything okay?”

you hesitated, feeling the weight of her concern pressing down on you. “yeah, just... a lot going on. i’ll be back soon. promise.”

every encounter with beomgyu was now fraught with tension and awkwardness. when you accidentally ran into him in the hallway, you avoided eye contact, your heart racing as you mumbled a quick, “sorry, gotta run.” his puzzled expression was a sharp reminder of the unresolved feelings you were trying to escape.

one day, as you walked past the studio, you could hear the band inside, laughing and playing their instruments. the familiar sounds only served to deepen the ache in your chest. you paused for a moment, fighting the urge to open the door and join them, but the thought of facing beomgyu made your anxiety spike. instead, you turned on your heel and walked away, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

in a moment of weakness, you sought solace in a quiet coffee shop near campus. the café’s soft lighting and mellow music provided a temporary refuge from the turmoil inside you. as you sipped your coffee, you found yourself lost in thought, staring blankly at the steaming cup in front of you. the barista’s cheery greeting when he brought your order seemed to jar you from your reverie.

“everything alright?” he asked, noticing the pensive look on your face.

you forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “yeah, just... thinking things over.”

as you sat there, your phone buzzed with a message from taehyun. [hey, we’re meeting at our favorite diner tonight. we haven’t seen you in ages. please come.]

you stared at the message, your emotions a turbulent mix of guilt and longing. you knew the band was trying to reach out, and taehyun’s request made you feel even more isolated. you typed a quick reply. [i’m sorry, can’t make it tonight. maybe next time.]

later that evening, you walked aimlessly around campus, trying to clear your mind. the night air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions you were navigating. you found yourself near the band’s usual practice spot, where the faint strains of music could still be heard through the closed door. the sound was like a beacon, pulling you in, but you resisted the urge to go inside.

instead, you leaned against a nearby wall, staring at the ground, and tried to silence the conflicting thoughts racing through your mind. you missed the time where you bond, the music, and most of all, the connection you felt with beomgyu. but the guilt over your decisions and the fear of complicating things further held you back.

as you stood there, lost in thought, you heard footsteps approaching. you glanced up to see beomgyu and a couple of the other band members walking toward the practice space. beomgyu’s eyes met yours for a fleeting moment, and you saw a flicker of recognition and sadness in his gaze. you quickly averted your eyes and pushed off the wall, heading in the opposite direction. the weight of his gaze lingered on you, a painful reminder of the unresolved feelings and the barrier you had built between yourselves.

the next few days continued in this pattern of avoidance and reflection. you tried to immerse yourself in other activities—studying, hanging out with friends, and even joining a new club—to distract yourself from the growing rift between you and the band. but no matter how hard you tried, the pull of your unresolved feelings and the ache of missing the band’s presence remained ever-present.

you avoided the band’s practices, your absence becoming a topic of concern and whispers among the members. chaeyoung tried to reach out, but you deflected her inquiries with vague responses, unable to explain the complexity of what you were going through. the weight of your decisions and the growing distance between you and those you cared about only seemed to deepen with each passing day.

chaeyoung, on the other hand, continued her efforts to get closer to beomgyu. she seemed determined to pursue him, and you found yourself reluctantly setting up more opportunities for them to spend time together while you tried your best to ditch practices and avoid them, beomgyu to be exact. each one a painful reminder of your own conflicted heart.

the tension between you and chaeyoung suddenly grew, the strain becoming increasingly visible. her enthusiasm for beomgyu seemed to highlight the awkwardness between you two. one evening, after an especially intense practice, you returned to the band. the absence of your usual presence had left a noticeable void, and the atmosphere was tinged with unresolved emotions.

beomgyu, noticing your arrival, tried to catch you alone. his face was a mix of concern and frustration, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more intense. “why have you been avoiding me?” he demanded, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken frustration. “and why are you setting me up with chaeyoung when you clearly know how i feel about you?”

his words hit you like a tidal wave, the force of his emotions crashing into your already turbulent heart. you were taken aback, stammering as you struggled to find the right response amidst the swirling chaos of your feelings. “i... i just needed some time,” you said, your voice cracking under the strain. “i don’t know what to do.”

beomgyu’s eyes softened, but his frustration remained. “what do you mean, you don’t know what to do? you’ve been avoiding me for days, and every time i try to talk to you, you shut me out. and now you’re pushing me toward chaeyoung? do you even realize how confusing this is?”

the words were like daggers, each one cutting deeper into the wound you’d been trying to hide. “it’s not that simple,” you said, your voice trembling. “i didn’t mean to lead anyone on. i’m just... i’m just trying to figure things out.”

before you could finish, chaeyoung, who had been lingering just outside the practice room, overheard the exchange. her face was a mix of hurt and anger as she stormed in, her eyes blazing with a mix of betrayal and indignation. “so this is what’s been going on?” she demanded, her voice echoing with pain. “you knew all along, didn’t you? and yet you kept pushing me toward beomgyu!”

you turned to face her, your heart breaking at the sight of her wounded expression. “chaeyoung, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. i didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

chaeyoung’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, her disappointment palpable. “you should’ve told me sooner instead of making me look like a fool! i thought we were friends. i didn’t know when it started, but now i do. you’ve put me in a horrible position.”

“i don’t even know when it started,” you admitted, your own tears spilling over. “i didn’t mean to keep it from you. i just... i didn’t know how to handle it.”

chaeyoung’s expression softened slightly, though the hurt in her eyes was still clear. “you know that i treasure you so much! i can live without him, but you... i’m disappointed.” you tried to hold her hand but she refuse it by pushing your hand away.

chaeyoung shook her head, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve. “i need some space,” she said, her voice shaking. “i can’t do this right now.”

as chaeyoung turned to leave, you felt a pang of guilt and helplessness. “please, chaeyoung, let’s talk later. i didn’t mean to hurt you,” you called after her, but she didn’t stop.

the room felt heavy with unresolved emotions as chaeyoung walked out, leaving you and beomgyu standing in the aftermath of the confrontation. you watched her leave, feeling a deep sense of regret and sorrow.

stepping out of the practice room, you almost collided with chaeyoung, who was standing just outside the door, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. your eyes met hers, and for a moment, the weight of everything that had happened seemed to hang between you.

“chaeyoung, wait,” you started, but she held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“i need to be alone,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “just... stay away from me for now.”

you watched her walk away, your heart aching as the door closed behind her. the confrontation had left you feeling empty and lost, with the weight of your actions and their consequences pressing heavily on your shoulders. the path forward seemed unclear, and the pain of seeing both chaeyoung and beomgyu hurt by your choices was almost too much to bear.

the confrontation left you feeling bare and overwhelmed, as if the weight of your choices was pressing down on you. you were torn between listening to your mind, which urged you to stay away from the complications, and following your heart, despite the potential for more chaos. each option felt heavy with its own consequences, making the decision feel almost too much to bear.

on a painfully monday morning, thanks to your bothered sleep and blood-shot eyes from crying to sleep, yeonjun planned a meeting announcing the upcoming performance the band is going to be at, it’s for the school festival which is three weeks from now.

the days leading up to the big performance were a whirlwind of tension and emotional strain. the band’s rehearsals became increasingly fraught with unspoken conflicts. you and beomgyu found yourselves in the same space, but the atmosphere was thick with unresolved feelings. each practice felt like a tightrope walk between maintaining professionalism and confronting the personal problems between you.

you struggled to focus on the music. every note seemed to echo your inner confusion. the mere presence of beomgyu was a constant reminder of the kiss and the subsequent fallout. whenever practice ended, you would hastily pack up your things and slip out of the room before beomgyu had a chance to approach you. your heart raced as you made your way for the exit, desperate to escape the weight of the situation.

one evening, after an intense rehearsal, you were packing up your guitar when you felt beomgyu’s presence behind you. he cleared his throat, trying to get your attention. “hey, can we talk for a second?”

you stiffened, keeping your back turned. “i’m really sorry, beomgyu. i have to go.”

before he could respond, you grabbed your bag and quickly made your way to the door. you could hear his frustrated sigh as you exited the studio. you barely made it out into the hallway before you broke into a brisk walk, trying to put as much distance between you and the uncomfortable conversation.

the following day, during another practice, you could feel beomgyu’s gaze on you. his attempts to catch your eye were evident as he tried to gauge your mood. at one point, he caught up with you in the break room where you were refilling your water bottle.

“i don’t understand why you’re avoiding me,” beomgyu said, his voice filled with frustration. “we need to talk about what happened.”

you forced a tight smile, avoiding his eyes. “i know. but not right now. i really need to focus on the music.”

beomgyu’s expression hardened. “this isn’t just about the music anymore. it’s about us. you can’t keep running away.”

before he could say more, you turned and hurried back to the practice room, your heart pounding in your chest. you hoped that by diving back into the music, you could drown out the guilt and confusion that plagued you.

a few days later, after an exhausting rehearsal, you were again at the edge of the studio, packing up your gear. beomgyu approached you once more, his tone softer but still filled with a pleading urgency. “please, can we at least talk for a few minutes? it’s really important.”

you avoided his gaze, focusing intently on zipping up your bag. “i’m really tired, beomgyu. maybe another time?”

“we’ve been saying ‘another time’ for days,” he said, his voice rising slightly in frustration. “we can’t keep doing this.”

you didn’t answer, quickly slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking briskly toward the exit. you heard his footsteps behind you, but you didn’t slow down. the practice room door closed behind you with a decisive thud, leaving you alone in the hallway as you made your way out of the building, your breath coming in ragged bursts.

the tension reached a breaking point during a late-night practice session. as soon as the final chord was struck and the last note faded, you grabbed your things and tried to make another hasty exit. but beomgyu was waiting for you, his face set in a determined expression.

“this is getting ridiculous,” he said, stepping in front of the door as you tried to leave. “you can’t keep avoiding me forever.”

your pulse quickened, and you looked at him with a mix of frustration and sadness. “i don’t have the energy for this right now, beomgyu. just... let me go.”

“i can’t do that,” he said, his voice softer now. “we need to sort this out. it’s affecting the band, and it’s affecting us.”

you sighed, feeling the weight of his words. “i know. but every time we talk, it feels like it only makes things worse. is there even us?”

you saw how his emotion changed, his eyes became more soft with his eyebrows furrowed, and it almost crushed your heart into pieces. “t-then let’s just talk,” he said, stepping closer. “no pressure, just... honestly.”

you took a deep breath, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “i can’t. not yet. i’m still figuring things out.”

beomgyu’s face softened with concern. “please, don’t shut me out. i want to understand.”

with a heavy heart, you pushed past him and walked out of the studio. the cool night air hit your face as you hurried away, your mind a tangled mess of emotions. the sight of beomgyu standing alone in the doorway, his expression a mix of frustration and heartbreak, stayed with you long after you had left the building.

chaeyoung, meanwhile, had been distant and cold. the once easy trust of friendship between you had dissolved into a frosty silence. she avoided eye contact and kept conversations to a minimum, her demeanor a stark contrast to the warmth she had once shown. living together only added to the strain. each night, after band practice, you found yourself lingering on the school grounds until late, just to avoid the awkwardness of returning home to an increasingly strained atmosphere. the nights seemed endless as you waited for the right moment to return home, praying that somehow, things would resolve themselves.

one particularly chilly evening, around 9 pm, you were sitting alone on a bench near the school grounds. the practice had ended hours ago, and you were waiting for the right moment to head home, dreading the silent, uncomfortable atmosphere that awaited you. the dim streetlights cast long shadows on the deserted grounds, mirroring the isolation you felt.

you sighed deeply, your breath visible in the cold air. the empty grounds were a reflection of your emotional state—silent and still, waiting for something to change. you glanced at your watch, wishing time would move faster so you could escape the lingering anxiety.

as you sat lost in thought, yeonjun approached, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. he looked at you with a mix of concern and curiosity. “you’re still here?” he asked, taking a seat beside you without waiting for an invitation.

you shrugged, trying to mask your discomfort. “just needed some time to clear my head.”

yeonjun studied you for a moment, then spoke, his voice gentle but firm. “you know, this awkwardness between you and beomgyu is starting to affect the band. everyone can feel it, and it’s not just about the performance anymore.”

you sighed, feeling the weight of his words. “i know. i just... don’t know how to fix it.”

“maybe you should be true to yourself for once,” yeonjun suggested. “think about why you’re avoiding him. and don’t forget about chaeyoung. you two need to talk things through.”

his advice, though simple, resonated deeply. you nodded, taking his words to heart. “thanks, yeonjun. i’ll think about it.”

that night, determined to make amends, you decided to confront the situation head-on. after practice the next day, you went to a nearby store and bought two large bowls of chaeyoung’s favorite ramen. when you arrived home, the smell of the ramen filled the small apartment.

chaeyoung was sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone with a detached air. you placed the ramen on the table and took a deep breath. “i thought you might like this,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“what are you doing here.” she said, not even glancing towards you.

“i figured we have to talk..” you whispered, you voice breaking through each word.

chaeyoung looked up, her expression softening slightly as she took in the gesture. “make sure that it’s worth my time,” she said coldly, but there was a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

you sat down across from her, trying to maintain a hopeful smile. “i know things have been rough between us. i’m sorry for not being honest with you sooner.”

chaeyoung’s eyes softened as she stirred the ramen. “you know, i can deal with a broken heart. i’ve been through it before. what i can’t handle is losing you as a friend.”

the sincerity in her voice cut through your anxiety. “i didn’t want to hurt you. i was just trying to figure things out.”

chaeyoung sighed, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of sadness and understanding. “i think you and beomgyu actually look good together. maybe you should give each other a try. i can handle another heartbreak, but losing you would be too much.”

the conversation opened the floodgates of emotion. you realized that chaeyoung valued your friendship above all else, and her willingness to support you despite the pain spoke volumes. you reached across the table and took her hand, the gesture a silent apology and an offer of reconciliation.

“that means a lot, chaeyoung,” you said softly. “thank you for being understanding.”

chaeyoung gave you a small, relieved smile. “i’m glad we talked. just... try not to let things get so complicated next time, okay?”

“i’ll do my best,” you promised, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders.

as the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves curled up together on your shared bed. the comforting warmth of her presence was a balm to your frayed nerves. you talked and laughed, reminiscing about old times, and the tension between you dissipated with each shared memory and whispered confession. it was a moment of healing, the rekindling of a cherished friendship that had weathered the storm.

one week before the performance, you began to feel a sense of relief. the conversations with yeonjun and chaeyoung had lifted a heavy burden, and you were attending band practices with renewed focus. though the anxiety about beomgyu still lingered, you were determined to sort through your feelings and confront whatever was next.

the last evening before the big performance, the practice session went smoothly. the room was filled with the familiar hum of instruments and the rhythm of music. throughout the practice, you and beomgyu exchanged furtive glances, a mix of unspoken emotions passing between you. the atmosphere was charged, but neither of you made the first move to bridge the gap.

as practice concluded, you told everyone you’d be quick and just needed to grab some water. when you returned to the band room, it was nearly empty. only yeonjun and taehyun remained, engaged in a low-key conversation. your heart sank as you realized beomgyu was nowhere to be seen.

as you picked up your bag, a folded piece of paper fell to the floor. you bent down and retrieved it, noticing a guitar pick tucked inside. unfolding the note, you saw beomgyu’s handwriting:

“i know you won’t listen to me, but i hope you will read my letters at least. —beomgyu”

confused, you glanced around, searching for beomgyu, despite know he was already gone. taehyun, observing your puzzled expression, spoke up. “i think there’s another note in your bag. beomgyu put a notebook there too.”

curiosity and worry surged through you, prompting you to dig through your bag. you discovered a notebook, its pages filled with beomgyu’s thoughts. the first entry was raw and revealing:

“i remember the first time i really noticed you. you were playing that red guitar of yours, your hair a bit messy, like you had just rolled out of bed. heheh (i actually think it looks good on you) there was something about the way you got lost in your music, so focused, so at ease with yourself. i couldn’t stop watching. i didn’t want to admit it, but that’s when i started paying attention.”

the next few entries showed beomgyu’s growing awareness of his feelings:

“i started finding excuses to be around you more. the way you’d smile after hitting a tricky chord, or how you’d cheer me on during my solos—it all started to matter a lot. i thought it was just a phase (lol), but the more i got to know you, the more it felt like something real.”

“then we had that night—the kiss. it was a mistake, or at least that’s what i tried to convince myself. but deep down, it felt like the start of something confusing and complicated. i wanted to fix things, but every time i tried, it seemed like i only made things worse.”

“now, with the performance coming up, i’m feeling this weight. i don’t know if we’ll have another chance to sort things out. it’s been hard trying to figure out how to make things right before we all move on. i just hope we can talk before it’s too late.”

your heart raced as you flipped to the last page. there, you found a sketch of a girl holding a red guitar. it was you, drawn with such detail and tenderness that it took your breath away. next to the sketch were lyrics:

“through the band, i discovered you i’m grateful for the music you appeared so unexpectedly with your red guitar in my studio and as you sang, i was instantly captivated i’ll write a song with you as its title the lyrics may not be ready but the melody comes first you’re the one i’ve been waiting for i’m ready to be genuine opening the door, i once believed, i couldn’t bear it any longer” - fuck, is it too cheesy? i don’t know… i just miss you.

the lyrics were written multiple times, with some lines crossed out and rewritten, showing how much thought beomgyu had put into them. the repeated attempts, the crossed-out words—everything spoke of his deep desire to get it right.

your heart thumped wildly in your chest as you absorbed the significance of his words and the heartfelt sentiment behind the song. tears welled in your eyes as you closed the notebook and looked at yeonjun and taehyun.

“where is he?” you asked, your voice trembling. “beomgyu, where is he?”

“who?” taehyun asked, clearly confused.

“beomgyu! where did he go?” you repeated, your urgency growing as tears began to spill.

“i believe he went home already,” yeonjun said.

“you can try to catch him; he’s a slow walker—” taehyun began, but before he could finish, you had already shoved the notebook back into your bag, grabbed your things, and bolted out of the room.

you raced through the dimly lit corridors, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you sprinted through the campus grounds, desperately searching for beomgyu. each second felt like an eternity as you scanned the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

you ran to the usual places you thought he might be—the old practice rooms, the quiet spots near the campus park—but he was nowhere to be found. the night air was cool against your flushed face, but the chill did little to cool the fire in your chest.

your footsteps echoed in the empty streets, the rhythmic thud a reminder of your growing desperation. you crouched on the ground, the cold seeping through your clothes as you struggled to catch your breath. the thought of not having the chance to tell him about your feelings, of him giving you the letter as a closure to move on, weighed heavily on you. tears streamed down your face as you walked home, feeling utterly defeated.

when you finally arrived home, the weight of the night’s events seemed to settle heavily on your shoulders. the house was quiet, the kind of quiet that amplified every little noise and seemed to echo your disheartened thoughts. the door creaked open, and as you stepped inside, the emptiness of the space felt almost suffocating.

chaeyoung was waiting for you. she had sensed your distress even before you had the chance to say anything. without a word, she pulled you into a warm, comforting hug. her arms wrapped around you tightly, a silent gesture of support and understanding. you felt the warmth of her body, her comforting presence dissolving the tension that had built up inside you throughout the evening.

“hey,” she whispered softly, her voice a gentle balm to your aching heart. “it’s gonna be okay.”

you buried your face in her shoulder, the tears you’d been holding back finally breaking free. chaeyoung’s soothing words, combined with her embrace, were a small island of calm in the storm of emotions you were experiencing. the comfort she offered was genuine, and it helped to remind you that you didn’t have to face this alone.

chaeyoung held you for a long moment, allowing you to cry it out. her hand gently stroked your back, a rhythmic reassurance that she was there for you. “it’s alright,” she murmured, “we’ll figure it out. just breathe.”

the next morning, the day of the big performance, you woke up with a tangled mess of thoughts. the weight of the previous night pressed heavily on your mind, and the comfort of your bed felt like an irresistible temptation. you lay there, tangled in blankets, every fiber of your being urging you to stay in this cocoon of warmth and forget about everything.

but then chaeyoung’s voice cut through the haze of your thoughts, sharp and clear. “hey,” she said firmly, her voice breaking through the fog of indecision. “if this is the last time you’re going to see him, then fuck that and go! look at him all you can, don’t waste the chance. come on, i didn’t raise you like that.”

her words were a jolt, a wake-up call that pulled you from the comfort of denial and into the reality of the situation. chaeyoung’s unwavering resolve and concern for you pierced through your indecision, and you knew she was right. if this was the final chance to confront your feelings, you couldn’t waste it. you needed to be brave, even if it felt terrifying.

when you arrived at the venue for the final rehearsal, the atmosphere was charged with tension. the anticipation of the upcoming performance was palpable, but there was an undercurrent of unease that seemed to hover in the air. you glanced around the room, expecting to see the familiar faces of your bandmates, but there were only three of them present.

the absence of one crucial member was glaringly obvious. “where’s beomgyu?” you asked, your voice betraying your anxiety. the concern was evident in your tone, and your eyes scanned the room for any sign of him.

yeonjun looked up from where he was adjusting his equipment, his brow furrowed in frustration. “he’s not responding to our texts,” he explained. “so, we’ll have soobin as his proxy for now.”

“yeah, he’ll be late i guess,” kai added, trying to sound reassuring despite the clear concern in his voice. “we’re not sure what’s going on with him.”

you nodded, trying to push aside the worry gnawing at you. the rehearsal proceeded, but the empty space where beomgyu should have been felt like a void that you couldn’t ignore.

the rehearsal ended, and you found yourself backstage, preparing for your turn on stage. you sat on a bench, your fingers fidgeting with the edges of your clothing, the absence of beomgyu weighing heavily on your mind. the backstage area was bustling with activity, but your focus was entirely on the empty spot where he should have been.

the door to the backstage area swung open with a suddenness that made you look up. the familiar chorus of greetings and exclamations filled the space, but your attention was solely on the figure who had just entered. beomgyu stood in the doorway, his usual delicate eyes now showing a complex mix of emotions that you couldn’t quite interpret. his hair was styled the same as always, framing his face, but today it seemed as though he was carrying an invisible weight.

he was dressed in a black cardigan over a white polo, paired with a black tie, torn black shorts, and his signature chucky shoes. his guitar was slung casually over his shoulder, but it was clear that he was focused on something more than just the instrument.

the sight of him stirred a flurry of emotions inside you—hope, confusion, anxiety. the connection between you seemed visible, even though the tension in the air was almost tangible. beomgyu’s eyes locked onto yours for a moment, and it felt as though time itself had momentarily stopped.

the room seemed to hold its breath as the two of you stared at each other. for a fleeting instant, it felt as if everything else had faded away, leaving just the two of you and the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you.

beomgyu’s heart raced when he walked into the room, each step feeling heavier than the last. the sleepless night had left him utterly drained, and the weight of his apprehensions pressed down on him with every beat of his heart. he had spent hours pouring his feelings into the notebook, hoping it would be enough to bridge the gap between you. now, the fear that his words had fallen on deaf ears gnawed at him. the sight of you, barely meeting his gaze, made that fear even more tangible.

“sorry i’m late,” he said, his voice lacking its usual warmth and confidence. “i had trouble sleeping last night. i hope i didn’t mess things up too badly.”

hearing his words only made your heart ache more. was he thinking about you, too? the vulnerability in his voice made you wonder if he was struggling with his own feelings. but before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, the sound coordinator knocked on the door. “hey, you’re up next!” he called, breaking the moment.

the rush of adrenaline surged through you as you stood up, gripping your red guitar tightly. you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. this was it. you glanced over at beomgyu, who was talking to yeonjun, possibly explaining his late arrival.

“is everything okay with you?” yeonjun asked beomgyu, his tone laced with concern. “we’ve got just a bit of time before you go on.”

beomgyu nodded, though his expression was troubled. “yeah, just… needed to get my head straight. thanks for covering for me.”

you tried to push your swirling thoughts aside, focusing on the performance ahead. backstage, the crew hurriedly prepared the equipment, adjusting microphones and checking amplifiers. you spotted chaeyoung in the audience, her encouraging smile offering a small boost of confidence. you could see her giving you a thumbs-up, and it made you feel a bit more grounded.

as you took your place on stage, you could feel beomgyu’s eyes on you, even as you busied yourself with setting up your gear. his presence was almost palpable, adding to your already heightened nerves.

the introduction song started, the energetic beat filling the venue. the crowd’s applause and cheers created a vibrant atmosphere. yeonjun stepped up to the mic, his voice clear and upbeat as he began introducing the band members.

the setlist progressed smoothly, each song blending seamlessly into the next with transitions that kept the crowd energized. the band’s performance was electric, and the audience’s enthusiasm was noticeable. but as the performance reached the last few songs, yeonjun announce that there will be last two song on the list, you noticed something odd. there was a mix-up in the setlist. you were sure that only one song was left—the one you and beomgyu had written together.

but before you even get lost on your mind the drum sticks signaled the start of the final song, your thoughts snapped back to the stage. kai had stopped playing the keyboard and held the mic ready, his expression serious yet excited.

the lyrics began to flow through the venue, each word resonating deeply within you:

unnoticed, the noises around us fade away, is it obvious that there's something one of us wants to admit? as time passes, we don't realize that only we remain here. our eyes meet, yearning to say, you take my heart to the heavens, giving me a joy that feels true. there's nothing more to seek; you are mine, and i am yours, and here we lose ourselves. time has flown by, and we haven't even noticed that only we remain. our eyes meet, yearning to say, you take my heart to the heavens, giving me a joy that feels true. there's nothing more to seek; you are mine, and i am yours, and here we lose ourselves. we lose ourselves in each other. we lose ourselves in each other.

as kai sang, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from beomgyu. the spotlight cast soft shadows on his face, highlighting the familiar contours you had come to know so well. each lyric of the song seemed to resonate with memories of your time together, drawing you into a whirlpool of recollections.

you remembered those late-night practice sessions, the room filled with the soft strum of guitars and the clinking of coffee cups. you and beomgyu would lose track of time, laughing over missed notes and exchanging knowing glances. one night, as the clock ticked past midnight, beomgyu had paused his playing and looked over at you.

“why do we always end up here?” he’d asked, a smile tugging at his lips. “it’s like our own little world.” you’d grinned, nodding in agreement. “maybe it’s because we can just be ourselves here. no need to pretend.”

you thought about the meals you’d shared after exhausting rehearsals, grabbing quick bites from a local convenience store. you’d both been too tired to care about anything more than satisfying your hunger, but those moments had been filled with genuine conversation and laughter.

“remember that time we tried to make our own ramen?” beomgyu had said, chuckling as he sipped his cup noodles. “we thought it would be a culinary masterpiece.”

you had laughed, shaking your head. “more like a disaster in a cup.”

and those small, intimate moments when it was just the two of you. Like that one afternoon in the practice room when you had both been too tired to play. you’d ended up sprawled on the floor, talking about everything and nothing.

“sometime i think,” beomgyu had mused, “that we don’t need to say much to understand each other. it’s like we already know what the other is thinking.”

“yeah,” you’d replied, “sometimes silence speaks louder than words.”

now, as kai’s voice wrapped around the final lines of the song, you felt a wave of resolve wash over you. the lyrics spoke of that intangible bond, the silent connection that defied explanation.

you couldn’t ignore these feelings any longer. the song’s message, combined with your shared experiences, had made your decision clear. you were going to confess your feelings to beomgyu, no matter how terrifying it felt. you tightened your grip on your guitar, your heart pounding in your chest. it was now or never.

when the final chord resonated through the venue and the crowd erupted into cheers, the noise seemed to amplify the storm inside you. yeonjun stepped up to the mic, his voice full of energy.

“this next song was a collaboration between our very own beomgyu and y/n,” he announced, a proud smile on his face. “it’s about the things we can’t always put into words, the unspoken connection that binds two people together. it’s about finding a way to express what words alone can’t capture.”

the spotlight shifted to you and beomgyu, illuminating the space between you. in that brief moment, your eyes met, and a wave of fear and excitement washed over you. beomgyu’s gaze was intense, filled with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place.

you took a deep breath, your resolve hardening. this was your chance to be honest, to put everything on the line. you were going to confess your feelings to beomgyu, no matter what.

after the last song, the lights in the auditorium abruptly cut off, plunging the space into darkness. a murmur of confusion swept through the crowd as you fumbled to make out shapes in the dimness. the auditorium, being a closed area, seemed to amplify the darkness. but just as quickly as the lights had gone out, they flickered back on, casting a bright, almost blinding light over the stage.

you blinked, adjusting to the sudden brightness. and there, standing in the middle of the stage, was beomgyu. he was wearing taehyun’s guitar and adjusting the standing mic with a mixture of nervousness and determination. he cleared his throat, his voice resonating through the microphone.

“hello, i’m beomgyu,” he began, his tone holding a rare softness. “the band’s bassist. i don’t sing a lot on sets,” he paused, a shy chuckle escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck. “i have a special set, uh... for a special someone.”

the words seemed to hang in the air, and you could see his eyes flicker in your direction before he turned back to the crowd. his hands began to strum the guitar, and an unfamiliar melody started to fill the auditorium. it was different from the usual songs he played, and though you’d heard him sing before, this was something deeply personal.

he kept stealing glances at you, his fingers dancing over the strings with a mix of vulnerability and hope. the room seemed to narrow down to just the two of you as he sang the first verse:

“through the band, i discovered you…”

the song's lyrics were hauntingly familiar, echoing the melody from the last page of the notebook. the realization hit you like a wave, and you felt your heart race. the notebook, the lyrics—it was all coming together in this intimate performance.

as he sang, every word seemed to cut through the chaos of your thoughts. the lyrics spoke of unspoken feelings, of discovering something precious through shared moments. the melody wove a story of connection and understanding, each note filled with emotion.

you wiped away the tears that had started cascading down your cheeks. your heart felt like it was being tugged by an invisible force, leading you to move. your feet seemed to act on their own, carrying you toward beomgyu as if guided by the sincerity in his song.

the crowd’s noise faded into the background as you approached him. beomgyu’s eyes locked onto yours as he strummed the final chords, his expression a mix of relief and nervous anticipation. you saw him begin to walk toward you, but before he could close the distance, you ran, your legs propelling you forward in a desperate bid to reach him.

you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace, and in that moment, the world felt like it had stopped. it was just the two of you, standing in the center of the stage, with your hearts speaking louder than any words could.

“it’s the same lyrics…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “the same as what you wrote on the last page…”

beomgyu’s breath was warm against your forehead. “you read it…” he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and vulnerability.

“of course i did,” you replied, your forehead resting against his. his eyes softened, and before he could say another word, you leaned in and captured his lips with yours. the kiss was a fusion of all the feelings you had kept bottled up, a silent confession that needed no words.

when you finally pulled back, breathless, beomgyu’s cheeks were flushed a deep red. “t-there are people watching…” he whispered, his voice laced with embarrassment.

the realization hit you like a splash of cold water. the crowd’s cheers and laughter had reached a crescendo, and your bandmates were all staring at you with amused expressions.

“oh, fuck it,” you said, a determined smile spreading across your face. you grabbed beomgyu’s hands tightly, the warmth of his touch grounding you. you looked at him with a mixture of mischief and resolve before starting to run.

the two of you sprinted toward the backstage exit, hand in hand, the noise of the crowd and the teasing laughter of your bandmates fading behind you. as you pulled beomgyu along, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of exhilaration. this was your moment, and no one could take it away from you.

gyo's note: this is by far the longest one i've written, this idea came to my mind when i rewatched the movie 20th century girl and when i tell u i had 2-3 business days of grieving over it and that's when the idea of heartstrings started. it was also heavily inspired with the song MRT and Lia, so if you guys would like to, you can check them out for yourself (it's a good song, and the exact song i used for lyrics part, i just translated it into english) ++ i love me a bassist!beomgyu actually anything that beomgyu does :<< i think i'm smitten you guys (sighs) this note is longer than i expected so i'll end this here by saying that i have a new story idea, a series actually, for yeonjun and soobin yayyy ^^ please like and reblog, it helps my works to have more engagement, and if you made it to this part, thank you so much for reading. you will be loved, xoxo!

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