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katiexpunk · 2 months

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Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that.

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two.

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet.

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office.

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists.

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.”

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits.

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid.

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month.

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts.

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old.

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time.

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30.

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits.

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you.

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand.

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty.

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking.

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse.

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep.

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place.

"Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table.

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked.

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.”

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself.

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake.

He’s just another customer.

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy.

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible.

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it.

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back.

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face.

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it.

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it.

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night.

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it.

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented.

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell.

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright.

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you.

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer.

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it. Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot.

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You.

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore.

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip.

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello.

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is.

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know.

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that?

Jesus.

No.

He’s just a customer.

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything.

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back.

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan.

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet.

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever.

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone.

But you don’t call or text.

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager.

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type.

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock.

Fuck.

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except –

Somethings wrong.

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off.

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense.

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight.

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that.

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now.

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect.

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two.

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern.

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside.

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened.

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you.

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind.

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you.

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one.

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need.

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her.

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response.

Rip off the fucking bandaid man.

“Why didn’t you call?”

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things.

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him.

But no.

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his.

“Ki–”

Fuck it.

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more.

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral.

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal.

Fuck. Yes.

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more.

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs.

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots.

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body.

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now.

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby.

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you.

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you.

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More.

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you.

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line.

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away.

Please, he pleads to himself silently.

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan.

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale.

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you.

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing.

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole.

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core.

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him.

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again.

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more –

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height.

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste.

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now.

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now.

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life.

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him.

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare.

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind.

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time.

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him.

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless.

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep.

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second.

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him.

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you.

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it.

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up.

“Wanna smoke?”

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own.

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both.

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day.

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with.

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept.

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat.

He wants more.

And something tells him you do, too.

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #consent #joel miller #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller fanfic #Joel's POV

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joelmillersmunch · 18 days

Text

cruel summer (dbf!joel miller x chubby/curvy!f!reader)

Summary: After being away for five years, you've returned home for the summer. Joel doesn't expect to see you tonight. He doesn't mean to stare, really.

Ratings/Warnings: E. MDNI. NSFW. NO OUTBREAK. modern! au. dad's best friend! au. age gap (reader is 25, joel is in his 40s) curvy reader. reader's mother is awful. reader struggles with self image and insecurities. reader and joel flirt. reader gets touchy with joel. masturbation (m). joel can't stop staring at reader. I HOPE I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ANYTHING.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Soooo, I'm dabbling with the idea of making this into some kind of short series. Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy! Please ignore any grammar or typos. I didn't spend much timed editing. Ooooops.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Joel knows he should be ashamed, gawking across the room at his best buddy’s kid. Except you weren’t a kid anymore. You weren’t the same 20 year old, sophomore-in-college girl he met when he moved across the street from your family five years ago. You were so much more now. A gorgeous grown version of the girl he had met only a handful of times before you left for the fall semester.

You hadn’t been back since, having gone on some fantastic trips abroad over the summers to expand your studies. You graduated about a year ago with your bachelor’s degree and have been enjoying post grad life with your friends. You decided to come home for the summer, having been so long since you’ve been back to Austin. It’s been two weeks since then, and he only got a brief glance from his window when you pulled in, jumping out to embrace your parents.

He had no idea you’d be here tonight. The crowded dive bar was Joel’s normal Friday night spot, usually accompanied by Tommy and some of their other crewmates. Joel had texted your dad an invite, completely forgetting about the fact you’d come back into town. Your dad walks in first, a huge grin on his face as he makes way to the table Joel is seated at.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought some company,” He says, stepping aside to reveal the fact you had joined him tonight. Joel’s breath catches when he sees you for the first time, covering it up with a fake cough.

“Mr. Miller, so nice to see you again! It’s been so long!” You say brightly, reaching for an embrace. You feel so soft in his arms. Joel quickly tries to compose himself, but your voice entrances him. It’s so grown, so sexy. He can’t help himself from breathing your perfume in a little harder than he probably should have. Oranges and lime, the beach, summer, sunshine. It made him dizzy in the best way, a refreshing hug of aroma encasing him.

“Hi, sweetie. Welcome home, nice to have you back.” He says, releasing you. You have a big, beautiful smile plastered on your lips and agree that it’s nice to be back.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Your dad cuts in, turning to face you. Saying your name, he asks if you want to join him. “I know they don’t have the wine stuff you usually get, but any daughter of mine can drink a beer!” He finishes, teasingly wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the bar. Joel can hear you complaining to your dad, furiously telling your dad you know they wouldn’t have wine here. He laughs and turns back to his beer.

So here he is, thirty minutes later, watching you from the bar. He’d offer to buy the next round after you very proudly proved to be your father’s daughter and downed your first beer like it was nothing. He watched you while he waited for the handful of beers as you hovered over the vintage looking jukebox. A wide grin spreads across your face when you find the song you were looking for, and a folky-banjo country song plays loudly from the speakers. Joel thanks the bartender after paying, and takes the tray of beers back to the table as you find your way back with him.

“I can’t believe they have this song!” You exclaim, happily taking one of the beers from Joel and taking a big swig. Joel and your dad laugh at you and you look at them confused.

“It’s 2024 here too, sweetie. Don’t know why you’re so surprised. That jukebox is brand new, it just looks that way to fit in better here.” You dad says, chuckling with a shake of his head. You roll your eyes at him and take a seat next to Joel, across from your dad.

“You know what? You can sit by yourself now, Dad. Joel here won’t be rude to me, now will ya, Joel?” You say, jokingly patting his arm as you lightly rest your head against his shoulder. Joel’s eyes go wide, and your dad breaks out in a bark of a laugh.

“Oh, yeah. Cause Joel’s such a big softie,” Your dad says, taking a swig of his beer. You laugh and release him, allowing Joel to finally breathe again. “When’s Tommy getting here, Joel?” Your dad asks.

“Oh, uh, didn’t plan on inviting ‘em tonight. Was gonna see if you wanted to go watch the game at my place after this, but..” He trails off, trying to politely hint to your dad that things are different now that you’re here. Not that Joel minds, but you probably don’t wanna go back to his place and hang out with two old dudes watching baseball all night. Joel accidentally catches your eye, and quickly looks away before you can catch on.

“What? Before you knew that I was coming?” You ask with a light laugh. “I can watch baseball! But if you two don’t want me hanging around, I can just walk home. It’s not like I live across town.” You joke.

“No, it’s not that!” Joel says, not wanting you to feel like a nuisance. “I just figured you didn’t want to hang out with these ol’ guys all night.” He finishes, giving your dad a friendly shove on his shoulder.

“No, I don’t mind! But please tell me you have something better than this beer at your place?” You ask, an exaggerated pleading look on your face. Joel can’t help but laugh and offer you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, darlin’. Welcome home, I guess.” He says and the three of you make your way out of the bar.

When the three of you arrive at Joel's place you’re already pretty tipsy. You’re laughing at a stupid joke your dad made as you stumble into the house. Joel rests a hand on your shoulder trying to steady you. You lean into his embrace and sigh out a thanks.

“You okay, kiddo? You sure you don’t wanna head home? I can walk you over there and come back,” Your dad says, a concerned look on his face once Joel has you seated on the couch.

“I’m fiiiiine,” You say, waving him off. “Joel, could I have some water?”

“Of course, darlin’,” He says, rising from his chair. “I’ll grab it for you. Do you want anything while I’m up?” He finishes, looking at your dad who declines. He walks into the kitchen, leaving you and your dad alone in Joel’s living room.

“Didn’t realize you were such a lightweight, honey,” Your dad says with a chuckle.

“I’m not usually, but I don’t know…” You start, immediately sobering up at his remark. “Lately, I’ve been struggling with my self image. I think all the drinking has something to do with it.” You pause, looking at your dad’s shocked expression which causes you to scowl at him. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Mom made sure to let me know that she noticed my weight gain.” You finish with an eye roll.

“She said that?” Your dad asks, a certain tone in his voice you didn’t recognize.

“Yeah, when you brought my bags into the house for me when I first got back. I just figured she told you or you had noticed too,” You say, crossing your arms over your waist.

“Honey, you know I think that you’re beautiful. You are just growing into your adult body. I can’t believe your mother would say something like that to you! I don’t know what her problem is lately..” He says trailing off. He coughs to cover up the tension when Joel reenters the living room, handing your dad a beer.

“You know me so well,” Your dad says, chipper as ever.

Joel can’t help but overhear your conversation from the kitchen. It’s a small house, for christ's sake! But that doesn’t help make him feel any less guilty while he listens to your vulnerable conversation with your dad. He had to admit, he was a bit surprised at how drunk you got off just two beers, but he’s not one to judge. It all made sense now, and he can’t believe your own mother would say that to you. No one should speak that way to their own daughter, but especially to you. Joel always thought your mom was a bit insufferable, and now he knows he was right all along.

He loves your figure. The way your jeans curved over your hips and ass. The softness to your cheeks and arms. He will dream about roaming his hands over your waist and legs tonight. For now, he has to interrupt this very personal conversation between a father and his daughter. His friend and his daughter. His friend’s daughter. Joel sighs, grabbing a beer and hoping he doesn’t embarrass anyone.

After about an hour and a glass of water later, you’re fully sober and mindlessly scrolling on your phone as your dad and Joel watch the game. Well, as Joel watches the game and your dad snores softly in the recliner. Joel is sitting next to you, his eyes never leaving the TV. At least, that’s what you thought. In reality, Joel can’t stop checking you out from the corner of his eye. The way you’d laugh at something on your phone and then bite your lip to suppress a smile when you realized you laughed a bit louder than you meant to. God, he needed a beer.

“I’m gonna go grab another beer. Need anythin’?” He asks, standing up. The feeling of your warmth and smell of your perfume invading his head, intoxicating him. You look up at him and smile, shaking your head no. He nods and quickly leaves to the kitchen. He leans over the sink, hands on the counter and dropping his head. Breathing in and out, he tries to calm his fucking dick. The way you looked up at him, beautiful eyes burning with attention. He wanted to kiss you, leave your eyes wide in surprise. Fuck, this is a problem, AND his dick won’t get soft. He continues to calm his breathing when he feels a tap on his shoulder, his stomach dropping at the contact. He turns to face you, a worn out smile on his face.

“Oh, you startled me, darlin’,” He says. You give him a coy smile, shaking your empty glass.

“I realized I did need something.” You say, stepping closer so that your bodies are touching. Your fronts nearly rubbing as you lean over him, chest bumping against his arms as you turn the faucet on to get more water. He breathes in a sharp breath, your scent invading him again.

“Now, sweetheart…” He says as you move closer, standing so that one of your legs is in between his thighs, and the other on the opposite side of his leg. You were almost straddling him, sipping your water back. You cock an eyebrow at him, a trail of water sneaking past the cup and sliding down your chin. He closes his eyes and breathes out, feeling you move to rub against him. He opens his eyes to see you smirking back at him, finishing the rest of your water in a final drink. You lean back over him, chests bumping into each other. You place the glass in the sink, jumping when you feel him wrap his arms around you.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller. I feel so..refreshed now.” You say, lifting up to whisper in his ear. “But you want to know what else I need?”

He feels you grind into his leg, looking up to stare you in the eyes. You’re smirking at him, and he feels himself flush. He’s so hard it feels like he won’t ever get soft again. You pat a hand over his cock through his jeans, a satisfied look on your face when he grunts at your touch. A loud snore from the living room snaps you and Joel back into reality, and about 6 inches away from each other. You look at him and laugh.

“Maybe next time?” You ask, and leave him in the kitchen. He needs to come, now. He plans to make a phony excuse to you to go to the bathroom when he enters the living room, just to see you raising your dad from his slumber.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Joel. Long day, I guess.” Your dad says, patting Joel on the shoulder as the two of you make your way out of the house. You turn to look back at Joel, a smile on your face.

He watches as you enter your own house. He pretends to not notice for the first time that your room faces his own. He pretends that he can still feel your hips dip into his. He pretends that it’s your hands on his hardened cock, thumbing over the swollen tip. He pretends he can still smell your perfume on your neck as your chest rubbed against his forearm. He pretends he doesn��t like the way you called him “Mr. Miller.” He pretends you’re watching him from your window. He pretends he can feel your eyes scanning over him as he thrusts into his fist. He pretends it’s your mouth. He pretends to see your shocked expression, eyes wide as he comes. He pretends it’s all over your face. With a groan, he grabs a rag and cleans himself up. So much for pretending.

A/N: dividers by @saradika-graphics thanks so much!!

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fooled-around-and-fell · 1 month

Note

your geto fic is super cute 🥰 if you're taking more requests, may I request a sukuna fic please? maybe in an au where he's a gangster and reader is of a classy, rich family so reader's parents don't agree, but then sukuna appears in one of their events in a suit and looking dashing as ever!

ooooooooo it's 3 am but i have to write this down!!!!!!!!!

shadows and silk.

summary: sukuna shows you and your parents that he is absolutely the right and the only man for you (whether they agree or not) genre: angst/fluff pairing: gangster!sukuna x female reader warnings: cursing, modern day au, not a great parent-child relationship, ooc sukuna

Masterlist

-----

your father doesn't even bother to hide his disapproval. "he has tattoos on his face. what if he's in the mafia- what have you brought our family into?!"

"father-"

"i am," sukuna clarifies, "in the mafia. my father is the leader. and one day, it'll be my time to lead."

your parents gasp in shock, surprised by sukuna's brashness.

"that wasn't a threat," he clarifies again, holding your hand. "i love your daughter, and i'd like to have a good relationship with you both. because it's important to her."

you smile appreciatively and grasp his hand, looking at your parents with hope.

"you're fucking insane."

-----

it was probably not the wisest decision to ask for your parents' approval, knowing what kind of people they are. being one of the richest families in the country, it's hard to have... any kind of life outside of what they had planned for you. like a pawn in their game of chess, your choices have been made for you since the very beginning.

unlike sukuna, you grew up "perfect". you aced your piano lessons, easily graduated from your violin school, and got straight As in all your grades. every day was the same for you; wake up, school, extra lessons, homework, sleep, and repeat.

that's actually how you met sukuna. one day, there was something wrong with the traffic so your driver was late. you'd been waiting for an hour, and sukuna just happened to finish his detention.

"hm?" his eyes caught you standing by the gate. "aren't you that rich kid?"

you looked up at him and analyzed his face -- high school student with face tattoos, you don't see that very often. "who's asking?"

"tsk, tsk." he chuckled, "so much attitude for a little person." he ruffled your hair before walking in the other direction. "wanna come? i'm gonna go have some fun."

fun... the word was so unfamiliar to you. you'd never talked to him before, and though it really was probably dangerous to just go with someone whose name you didn't even know, you couldn't help yourself. especially not when he turned around with a smile, urging you to come with him.

he took you to places you've never been before and made you feel things you've never felt. you felt free from your parents' chains, for once you felt like you could do whatever you wanted.

and sukuna was glad he could make you smile. you, the girl who always kept to herself in class, quiet, polite, almost scared. you made him feel things, too.

you got an earful from your parents that day, but the cute keychain sukuna won you from the night market was worth it.

now, the keychain hangs on your favorite bag, one that he also got you a few weeks ago. though you already have multiple designer bags that are much more expensive, the bag sukuna gave you was priceless.

"morning, baby." sukuna greets you, kissing your cheek.

"morning," you smile at him. "i'm sorry for how yesterday went. my father, he's-"

"let him be," he says. "nothing can keep me away from you, understand?"

you smile at his words and nod, "you better keep it as a promise."

sukuna smiles and kisses you, "i swear it."

he wonders what he could've possibly done to deserve someone like you.

-----

"what do you mean i'm getting married?"

your father sighs. "don't be difficult. the gojo clan is the most powerful, you should be thankful they're letting you marry their son."

"but father, i have a boyfriend, and i just graduated college! i- i can't marry, i still have so much i want to-"

"enough!" he yells, "you're marrying gojo satoru by the end of next month and that's final."

you're lucky that you have your own apartment. dialing sukuna's number, you get into your car and drive home where sukuna says he's waiting for you.

"ugh, unbelievable!" you throw your keys on the table, letting it slide off and annoying you even more.

he grimaces and sits you down, handing over a glass of water. "so it didn't go well..."

you sigh, "...they're arranging a marriage. with the gojo clan."

sukuna's jaw clenches, anger evident, but then it disappears. "that makes sense. they are the strongest and the richest."

"they're not giving me an option, like always-"

"gojo satoru is pretty handsome," he continues, "blue eyes, tall, quite built.. he's not a bad bachelor."

you squint your eyes at your boyfriend who seems like he's talking nonsense... or not really. "what are you trying to say?"

sukuna sighs. "we should break up."

the words that come out of his mouth after that are all blurry to you. something along the lines of...

"we've been together for years."

"it's time to get a fresh start."

"aren't you curious what it's like to date other people?"

"i'm getting bored to be honest."

and it all just seems like bullshit. bullshit because why is he looking at you like that when he's breaking up with you? why does he look like he's still madly in love with you and saying all that stuff is killing him?

why does he look like he's lying?

"tell me you're joking."

sukuna, unfortunately, doesn't humor you and leaves you alone in your apartment without saying anything else.

the rest of the month feels like hell. you tried running away from your parents, the guards they sent after you, but to no avail. somehow, they've repurchased your apartment and now you're back to living with them.

you met gojo satoru once throughout the entire month. he's decent, and actually a good guy like sukuna said, but he's not sukuna. he doesn't leave a random flower he picked up on the way to your place, he doesn't shower your hands with kisses when he sees you, and that's all expected -- because it's not supposed to be a loving relationship. it's a contract. once you marry him, your parents' company will merge with the gojos and become even richer.

today's the engagement party. your mother has chosen the perfect red gown for good luck, and she's made all the preparations for the party -- you, like always, never had a say in anything.

you feel like an object for them to trade with. compared to the gold bars sitting in their safe, you're probably worth less.

"i know you also didn't agree to this," gojo satoru whispers as you're both sat down in the middle of the ballroom while everyone else enjoys their meal. "but you look beautiful."

you offer him a polite smile, which turns rather sad. hidden in your sleeve is the keychain sukuna got you. your mother managed to throw away every cherished memory you had of him except for the keychain.

you wonder what sukuna is doing right now... if he's enjoying his life, if he maybe has a new girl by his side...

"sorry to shit on your party," your head snaps up the moment you hear that familiar voice, and a gasp escapes when you see the even more familiar tattooed face with pink hair. "but i'm going to have to kidnap your fiancee for a bit. maybe forever."

"..ryo." you stand up abruptly, letting your chair fall and hit the ground. he's dressed in a white suit, black vest, black shirt, and a matching black tie. he looks like he's ready to be your groom.

giving you the smile you miss most, sukuna stands in front of you and grabs your hand. "hi, princess."

"what are you doing here?" you whisper, tears about to fall from your eyes.

"saving my damsel in distress." he softens when he sees your lip tremble, kissing you gently. "i told you nothing can keep me away from you."

"but you-"

behind you, gojo satoru clears his throat, motioning to the many guards surrounding both of you, ready to pull you two apart by force.

"let my daughter go right now." your father demands.

you grasp sukuna's arm tightly, not planning on letting him go any time soon. in return, he has his arm around your waist, pulling you to him gently before he snaps his fingers, revealing rows and rows of armed men ready to fire.

the guards immediately stand down, obviously outnumbered. they let you and sukuna leave without a fight, and you stop for a second to spare a glance at your parents, looking at you disapprovingly.

-----

you're sitting on sukuna's bed. you've only been to this place a few times, considering he moves around a lot. he's helping you with the infinity amount of hairpins you have stuck in your hair while you take off the red gown you're wearing.

"ryo," you call him.

he hums to acknowledge you, mouth full of hairpins.

"...why did you break up with me?"

taking out the last piece of hairpin (he thinks it's the last), he throws them away before sitting behind you, arms snaked around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

"i... i thought i was doing you a favor," he admits, "with my job... it's not easy being with me, you know? i'm scared you'll think i'm a monster for what i do - it still terrifies me."

"so i thought if i just pushed you away, it'll make things easier for both of us," his grip on you tightens, "but it didn't. at least not for me. and i know i'm being selfish here by wanting you back, i know i don't deserve it, but i just... i can't imagine living without you. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

you turn around to face him, straddling his thighs and kissing him softly. "if being selfish means i'm stuck with you, then you need to be more selfish."

he grins, arms wrapping around you. "i love you."

"i love you more, ryo."

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x female reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x female reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #ooc sukuna #sukuna jjk

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lucilleslore · 5 months

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lovesick snow really really really scratches a part of my brain that i cannot have the words that explain it and have to go the library of babel to find it. he'd be more easy to manipulate in that state, especially how vulnerable he is to you and how willing he'd do anything for you. like you said in one of your first posts, i'm in love with the idea of it of how powerful the reader is if you want to add more backstory to them.

ok so i went with your idea and gave manipulative!reader and snow the backstory they deserve for the little au we have going here!! i hope you love it <3

➸ so as a kid i see manipulative!reader as a bit of a daydreamer and what do lots of little girls dream about?? their wedding. for you though it wasn’t necessarily about the day, not even the fancy dress or the colour scheme but the person. let’s just say you’re already from quite an influential family but it’s not enough - you want more.

➸ you wanted a husband that’s powerful, motivated. he had to be important and charismatic - someone who could really get you what you wanted from life. you weren’t completely unbothered by the idea of romance though and hoped that’d you’d manage to get them utterly devoted to you, willing to do anything to protect you and make you happy. it’s not a hard thing to ask for, right?

➸ you’d always been aware of coriolanus snow but there always seemed to be better candidates for your attention. then he comes back to the capitol and you can sense the change in him - the unhinged, power hungry aura that seemed to surround him and as he quickly started making a new name for himself, you thought he could be the one.

➸ coryo would never be an easy person to get close to however. so you had to subtly start placing yourself in his life. it was a slow process but you were diligent. ‘bumping’ into him just outside his apartment, having the same social calendar as him, even showing an interest in the games so someone would set up an appointment between the two of you to discuss.

➸ then there was one moment. one that not even you - seemingly the mastermind of your own life - had planned out. it was raining that day, pouring and you were alone rushing back to your apartment. you weren’t paying attention to where you were going and when you stepped out onto the road you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of screeching tires or horns. or for the strong grip that wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

➸ coryo was there just as drenched as you were but with a kind of frenzied, panicked look in his eyes. ‘you should watch where you’re going,’ he’d urged. it was the way he said it, the way his hand squeezed at your wrist that had you thinking maybe he’d been noticing your efforts after all. he’d tugged you closer to him as if you’d be safer there and it was probably the most genuine moment you’d had in years, as you blinked up at the blonde man who’d just saved your life.

➸ honestly after that you decide to back off, feeling a little guilty about your scheming but seemingly the universe wanted the two of you on the same path. or maybe coriolanus did. suddenly he was there at family functions, taking meetings with your father, charming your mother at all costs. he’d come to dinners hosted at your families estate and his eyes would never leave you from across the table even when he was in a conversation.

➸ so when your family told you about the marriage proposal you weren’t that surprised, just giddy. everything was finally falling into place. you knew you’d have to be careful. to you snow was charming, doting in a sense but you’d heard the rumours. he could be dangerous and you’d have to make sure you were never in his firing line.

➸ in the beginning of your marriage you try and play coy, let coryo take the lead in things. you like to let him know how you rely on him, always holding onto his arm in public and letting him speak first. basically just playing up to his male ego but something about seeing you feeling so safe with him and letting your guard down has him letting some walls down too. which is exactly what you want.

➸ he’d start to confide in you after a while because you’re just such a good little wife! bringing him drinks in the evening in your pretty dresses, loosening his shirts and playing with his hair. it isn’t his fault he ends up telling you things about his past, things he plans to do in the future - a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t tell you especially since you’ll remember each and every one.

➸ kinda dark but i love the idea of you being able to read people really well and always hyper aware of who coryo surrounds himself with, always sussing out their intentions before he does. you give it a little while but if he’s still not catching onto them you’ll simply make something up. maybe they’re giving you dirty looks or maybe their gazes are just lingering a little too long for your liking, in places they certainly shouldn’t be looking. maybe they’ve flirted with you, maybe they’re making nasty digs but you have coryo eating out the palm of your hand by this point and he’s possessive, protective in a mad, feral way. you’re flat out lying but he eats it up and whoever you want gone doesn’t last much longer after that.

➸ maybe that’s how you get your power. by simply having his ear. people know that they can get what they want through you and by the time coryo is president you have people visiting you nearly everyday. hoping you’ll let them into your inner circle, offering you things in exchange for a word whispered in his ear.

➸ and maybe coryo comes to rely on you this way. you’re a capitol darling, their perfect first lady but behind closed doors you’re separating the good from the bad. the people who can help your husband and the people who’re out to damage what he’s built. people begin to see you as a powerhouse in your own right, someone with a good side they need to be on. or else.

#- nonnies!#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you

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cutielando · 2 months

Note

the last social media au was so cute!! maybe one where george’s gf is a famous romance book author and when they make the relationship public his friends cannot believe posh “arms against the wall 2023 intro package pose” george could be the inspiration for all the smutty scenes his gf is famous for (only if your comfortable of course!)

instagram au

synopsis: this wonderful request ❤️✨

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Instagram

liked by zendaya, georgerussell63 and 301,584 others

yourusername working on something very special 🌸

view all 50,195 comments

booklover101 YAS BITCHES WE'RE GETTING A NEW BOOK!!!!!

chillypeppers Y/N on her way to releasing yet another banger😮‍💨😮‍💨

zendaya what u cooking bby?😉💞

yourusername something with an extra bit of spice🥵

user1 is nobody else wondering who she's writing the *explicit* scenes about?

user2 lol she most probably has a boyfriend or something

user3 or maybe she's just like any other young woman lmao

lilymhe i'm literally obsessed with the way you write🤤

yourusername thank you baby. i'll let you in on a secret later for this ;)

user4 we all want to be lily right now :((((

landonorris do you ever run out of things to write?

yourusername not really, no

lilyzneimer the book is coming along beautifully ❤️

yourusername thank you honey✨🌸❤️

oscarpiastri did you give her a sneak peek??????????

yourusername ...maybe

oscarpiastri deeply betrayed

georgerussell63 my beautiful girl this comment has been deleted

user5 GEORGE????????

user6 IS GEORGE THE SECRET BOYFRIEND?????

charles_leclerc can't wait to read it

yourusername you’re just like one of the girlies charlie 🌸🌸🌸

user2 the amount of money i spend on her books is so unhealthy but i don’t care. TAKE ALL MY MONEY BABY 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

user3 is it a stand-alone or is the new book going to be part of a series?👀

yourusername i’m planning a new series soon, but my next release is going to be a stand-alone 🌸

user4 i love her, she is the sweetest 🥰🥰

iMessage

george 🩵

i might have just fucked up

y/n ❤️

you're hopeless

george 🩵

do you think people saw the comment?

y/n ❤️

judging by the way my phone has been blowing up, i think they have

george 🩵

i'm sorry, my love

y/n ❤️

it's okay, don't worry. now we can mess with the fans for a bit ;)

Twitter

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yourusername “racing hearts” is now yours, my lovelies. this book holds a very dear place in my heart and i hope that it will speak to you like it spoke to me when i first started writing it. thank you to everyone who came to the book signing yesterday, you make my life all that more special ✨❤️🌸💞

view all 98,374 comments

georgerussell63 beautiful book, who were you thinking about when you wrote it?🤔

yourusername you know, just a random Brit

georgerussell63 must be one hell of a guy to get a book of his own

yourusername he really is

zendaya you have outdone yourself once again. reading your books has become a MUST ✨✨✨

yourusername thank you honey 💞💞💞

landonorris you went wild again, didn’t you?

yourusername i might have

landonorris do i even wanna read it?

yourusername honestly? probably not

lilyzneimer it’s even better than what i thought 💞

yourusername i always have a trick or two up my sleeve 😉🌸

charles_leclerc someone should censor you

yourusername where would be the fun in that?

charles_leclerc how does your manager approve of this?

yourmanager i’m one of the girlies 🌸

charles_leclerc that explains it

booklover101 THE WAY I SCREAMED WHILE READING IT HAS ME INSANE

booklover101 YOU DESERVE EVERY AWARD IN THE WHOLE WORLD

chillypepper i have no words. i said it before and i’ll say it again. she is the best author of her generation

user1 never beating the dating allegations now

user2 she literally named her main character RUSSELL, HOW DO PEOPLE STILL THINK HER AND GEORGE AREN’T DATING??????

user3 George is the luckiest man in the world😭😭

user4 he must really rock your world if those scenes are anything like the real thing

yourusername you have no idea 🤭

mercedesamgf1 I couldn't put it down. Amazing work, Y/N!!

yourusername thank you admin 🌸💞💞

liked by yourusername, lilyzneimer and 601,583 others

georgerussell63 Words can't describe how proud I am of you. The way you connect with your readers, the way you give life to every story you write never ceases to amaze me. I'm thankful to be able to watch you do your thing, watch you inspire so many young writers to chase their dreams. I love you 💞 P.S. Yes, I am the inspiration behind the sexy scenes ;) tagged: yourusername

view all 99,281 comments

yourusername your support means everything to me. thank you for always being here for me, helping me through my writer's block and cheering me on. i love you more than you know💞🌸

georgerussell63 i love you more❤️

landonorris i know way too much about your personal life now, mate

georgerussell63 jealous?

landonorris as if

yourusername don't fight boys, what would Russell and Brendan think about you two fighting?

landonorris BRENDAN IS ME?????????

yourusername oops👀

user1 i am in love with their love😮‍💨❤️

user2 going to jump off a cliff, brb

user3 i cannot believe i know stuff about George Russell's sex life👀

user4 George's? HOW ABOUT OUR PRECIOUS LITTLE Y/N'S?

alex_albon simp

georgerussell63 how can i not be? just look at Y/N

yourusername baby🥹💞❤️🌸

alex_albon you two make me sick. i preferred it when you weren't public

georgerussell63 and i preferred it when you shut up

lilymhe we are all in love with Y/N ✨❤️👀

yourusername but you’re the one who has my heart baby 💞💞

georgerussell63 ?????????

yourusername sorry babe 😁💞

mercedesamgf1 Our favorite couple!❤️ liked by yourusername and georgerussell63

Thank you so much for requesting!!! I hope you like this !!! ❤️❤️

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Tag list: @outerudeth @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @dardouni @saturnssunflower @moony-artemis @blissfulsunsetstuff @samantha-chicago @nikfigueiredo @therealcap @iloveyou3000morgan @daemyratwst @rqlstefanny @bwormie @hangmandruigandmav @kagome45 @enidsinclairaddamsthesecond @tallrock35 @sesamepancakes @boywondrgrayson @evlkking @evie-119 @ijustwanttoreadlols @cixrosie @poppyflower-22 @hiireadstuff @ellouisa17 @paintedbypoetry @hellowgoodbye @lpab @xlinxdax0704 @decafmickey @teti-menchon0604 @ctrlyomomma @sya-skies @likedbygaslyy @booksandflowrs @acidburnsthings @dhanihamidi @mynameisangeloflife @5starl1ght @teamnovalak @ferrarisfailedstrats @basicuniter @jxnellat

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sanjisboyfie · 7 months

Text

one piece smau: dating sanji edition

— modern! au , so fun , slight nsfw bc sanji is funny like that ig LMFAO

— SANJI X MALE READER one of my favorite pairings to ever cross the universe

liked by [name]s.chef, uso_pp, 9k others

lvrboy[name]: oh my god hes so fine someone give me this guys' number

[name]s.chef: BEAUTIFUL BOY MY NUMBER IS XXX-XXX-XXXX PLEASE SAVE MY CONTACT AS PRINCE SANJI I WILL ALWAYS BE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL

-> dni_nami: no fucking way, why did this guy just leak his number TO HIS OWN BOYFRIEND

uso_pp: the day sanji doesn't comment in all caps to his boyfriends posts is the day the apocolypse comes

-> roro.zoro: fr why he always yelling at him....

-> freeluffy: sanji is so aggressive to his own boyfriend, should we help [name]? -> [name]s.chef: YOU MORONS HAVE NEVER BEEN IN LOVE AND IT SHOWS

-> uso_pp: ruhroh he angry

love.pudding: is he single?

-> [name]s.chef: I AM A GAY MAN AND IN LOVE WITH MY FUTURE HUSBAND - I AM NOT INTERESTED IN ANYONE ELSE BUT MY LOVER, I AM A LOYAL MAN TO MY BOYFRIEND. DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME OR HIM IF YOU WISH TO DATE EITHER OF US. WE ARE DEEPLY IN LOVE AND ALWYS WILL BE.

[liked by lvrboy[name]]

liked by freeluffy, dni_nami, boahancock, and 10k others

[name]s.chef: I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND HE MAKES ME SO HAPPY HES THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE HIM

tagged: lvrboy[name]

dni_nami: never seen you smile that wide before

-> roro.zoro: i wish i never saw it, it's terrifying

-> [name]s.chef: i fucking hate you, dont interact with any of my posts you idiot

-> [lvrboyname]: holy shit whenever you guys breathe do you have to insult each other

-> [name]s.chef: I WON'T ANYMORE MY BABY

SUPERCOLA: do you guys remember when sanji said he hated [name] and rejected the idea of being in love with him.

-> lvrboy[name]: LMFAOAOOA

-> {name]s.chef: that wasnt me, that was my evil twin that was plotting on my downfall.

liked by [name]s.chef, roro.zoro, and 10k others

lvrboy[name]: personal bottle boy <3

tagged: [name]s.chef

[name]s.chef: until the bed breaks. as many rounds as you want, any position you want, anything.

-> dni_nami: sanji please be fucking normal challenge

[liked by roro.zoro and 100 others]

dr.law: is this sanitary???

-> lvrboy[name]: deez nuts in your mouth are about to be sanitary

-> [name]s.chef: TELL HIM BABY TELL HIM !!!

-> dr.law: this shit doesnt even make sense ???

liked by [name]s.chef, lvrboy[name], and 15k others

freeluffy: i can't eat when sanji is making out with [name] across from me. i'm never going out with these two again.

tagged: [name]s.chef and lvrboy[name]

uso_pp: LMFAO i thought it was known to never go out with sanji and [name]? sanji just ends up ignoring you and only paying attention to [name]

-> [name]s.chef: and that's the way it should be. who else should i pay attention to when my beautiful, handsome, erethral boyfriend is right in front of me?

robinkills: i have never heard luffy sound so serious before, what did you two do to him?

-> roro.zoro: probably traumatize him

lvrboy[name]: i'm sorry lu, i'll make it up to you sometime

-> freeluffy: pay for my meals on campus for a week straight :D

-> lvrboy[name]: i'll pay for it for two weeks, i'm really sorry luffy </3

-> [name]s.chef: DONT STEAL MY BOYFRIEND FROM ME YOU FUCKING IDIOT I'LL SKEWER YOU ALIVE

roro.zoro: i think i vomitted in my mouth a little bit, happy for you guys ig.

-> lvrboy[name]: thank you...?

liked by [name]s.chef, dr.law, and 10k others

lvrboy[name]: my bby in crop tops >>>

tagged: [name]s.chef

[name]s.chef: I WILL WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE WHATEVER MAKES YOU HAPPY, I'LL WEAR. I HAVE EYES FOR NO ONE ELSE BUT YOU!! I LOVE YOU!!!

-> lvrboy[name]: i love you so much muah

SUPERCOLA: sanji and [name] stop making out challenge literally fucking impossible.

[liked by dni_nami, uso_pp, and 90 others]

-> skullnsoul: they're so funny

liked by lvrboy[name], roro.zoro, and 14k others

[name]s.chef: my beautiful boy suprised me by preparing me food with his own recipe today, i think i could cry genuine tears. you guys don't understand how happy i am that i found him and am now able to call him mine. i will love [name] until my last breath. i am so, so lucky.

tagged: lvrboy[name]

uso_pp: okay i guess this was a cute post or whatever.

[liked by dni_nami, robinkills, and 100 others]

lvrboy[name]: sanji i'm gonna cry :< i love u sm too

-> [name]s.chef: pls dont cry my love

ttchopper: my favorite couple, you two are so sweet!

roro.zoro: cant even say anything mean, this is very heartwarming

-> lvrboy[name]: sanji won't tell you this but he giggled and kicked his feet when he read this.

lvrboy[name]'s story

my boyfriend's so fucking sexy-

[name]s.chef replied to your story: CAN I KISS YOU PLEASE COME BACK TO BED SO I CAN KISS YOU PLEASE CAN I KISS YOU CAN I PLEASEEE-

#≡;- ꒰ ° smau series ꒱#one piece #one piece smau #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #one piece x male reader #one piece modern au #x male reader #male reader #sanji x male reader #sanji x reader #sanji male reader #sanji imagines #male reader smau #smau #whoever sent me that anon ask is seething rn fs

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moralesluvr · 10 months

Note

so i have a few really close guy friends like we’re close to the point where they call me any time of day just to talk and I feel like 42!miles isn’t exactly the jealous type but if his girl had friends like that he would definitely side eye them and be kinda bitchy with his girl if she picks up the phone while they’re together

mine & only mine ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: after your boyfriend goes to get food, he walks in your room to see you on the phone with some dudes he's never seen before, and he acts out. ♡ warnings: banter-like arguing, suggestiveness maybe? one use of the n word ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

"I'M STARVING." You complained as you rested your head on your boyfriend, who was scrolling through TikTok while you relaxed in his lap. One of his hands was fidgeting with your coils, twisting them around his ringed fingers as he looked down at you. He cocked his head to the side as you pouted, "Me too, mami. What'chu got a taste for? I'll go pick it up."

"I was thinking wings, boneless lemon pepper?" You asked him, looking up at him with warm eyes. He gives you a nod and stretches, the hem of his white T-shirt slightly riding up, exposing his toned stomach. Smiling, you sit up as your boyfriend climbs out of bed and grabs a pair of shoes, "Bring some lemonade too, please."

He nods, grabbing his wallet before quickly giving you a placement of affection on your cheek, warmth sprouting on your skin as he told you that he would quickly be back with the food.

In the meantime, you sat on your boyfriend's bed as you scrolled aimlessly through social media. You were continuously clicking on 'Copy Link' and sending all the funny or romantic ones that you saw to your boyfriend, knowing that he'd probably end up watching them with you when he got home.

You were happily scrolling until your screen illuminated with one of your friend's names flashing on top. When your eyes scanned the letters that spelled out 'Amari', you found yourself grinning at the device as you clicked the green accept button.

Your friend's face lit up the screen as he waved at you, "Y/N! What's good? Haven't seen you in a hot minute!"

"Dude, I know, it's crazy," a laugh sounded from your throat as you propped yourself up on the bed, conversing with your old friend as he caught you up on the things that have occurred since you left your hometown to move to Brooklyn. He even gives the phone to his mom for a brief moment as you catch up with her, telling her how much you missed them and promising that you would visit in no time.

Although your conversation felt much shorter, it had to be at leas an hour long because you were still on the phone, giggling and laughing when your boyfriend got home. He called you twice to come down and eat with him, but he didn't understand why you weren't answering until he entered his bedroom.

You were propped up on the bed with your phone leaning against the TV, the TV that you were gaming on, Miles' purple controller in between both of your palms. You were laughing about something, violently clicking buttons as you won against whoever you were playing. Until Miles realized the boy that was on your phone screen, a controller also in his hand.

His jaw clenched.

He walked over to you, close enough to where he was in the frame, Amari's vision drifting to Miles and you. You looked up at your boyfriend as he gave you a sloppy kiss, tongue grazing over your lips as he grasped at your waist. A shaky breath left you as you hummed against his lips, before he pulled away from you with a 'pop'. He turned his attention to the screen, "Who the hell are you?"

"Amari?" Your friend questioned, almost as if he was assuming that your boyfriend should know who he was. Miles picked up on that tone and he immediately settled the phone in between his fingers, face all in the camera. He gave him a slick smile, "Ion know how you don't know me, 'cause I'm your friend's boyfriend," he gave you a hard look before looking back at your phone, "You can go now, 'lil nigga. Byeeeee!" He dragged out, waving sassily to Amari before hanging up the phone.

He then turned around to you, "Y/N, who the hell is that and why he don't know who I am? You just out here actin' single now?"

You rubbed your temples, preparing for the argument that was bound to bubble up from your lover. You looked at him with glossy eyes, "Baby, that's my friend. I haven't seen him since I moved so he called. He doesn't know you 'cause we haven't talked in forever."

"He like you?"

"No."

"How you know?"

"He has a girlfriend."

"Oh."

Miles gave you an apologetic face as you flattened your lips at him for acting out. He gave you a kiss on your forehead before murmuring an apology, swearing up and down that he just didn't want you being friendly with boys that probably liked you. He then took your hand and led you downstairs, where your meals were on opposites sides of your dining table, a small candle lit and the lights lower than usual. You giggled, "What's this?"

"An unexpected apology gift," he chuckled, arms snaking around your waist as one of his hands caressed your cheek, leaning into you as his soft lips connected with yours.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

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shuahoonie · 7 months

Text

unspoken words | jeon wonwoo

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo (svt) x fem!reader

notes: office!au (kinda?), fluff, suggestive jokes, swearing, idiots 2 lovers. alcohol consumption, jeonghan the matchmaker. the one where reader and wonwoo’s paths kept missing each other until they didn’t. loosely based on the song unspoken words by mxmtoon.

word count: 5.1k

summary: you and wonwoo always had a complicated relationship— no matter how hard you two tried, your lives had a funny way of getting intertwined.

and stubborn may you both be, wonwoo will always admit his feat when it comes to you.

part of the to x, with love mini series

shuahoonie's masterlist | to x, with love masterlist

“i never asked you to stay,” wonwoo muttered as you helped him clean up after the info session that your work had conducted for a group of students.

“this is ridiculous,” you sighed more so to yourself “there’s no way you could’ve done this by yourself.” you said while you held the blue recycling bin, gathering all of the leftover flyers and other papers that had writing on them. you also had a separate bin for the coffee lids and cup sleeves to put in the recycling as well.

“you could’ve just left,” wonwoo was watching you the entire time, making a mental note that you were serious about putting away your trash. “i know seokmin is waiting for you in the lobby.”

“it’s okay.” you replied, not even bothering to look him in the eye. instead, you gathered everything in a neat pile.

“you shouldn’t keep him waiting,” the words came out so harsh when he said it. even wonwoo was surprised, he wasn’t usually like this.

“he’ll be fine,” you said dismissively, not really in the mood to argue with him.

“yn,” wonwoo calls your name as if he hated doing it. “go.”

it took everything within you to stop yourself from yelling at him. “your anger will mean nothing,” seokmin’s words would ring in your ear. so you took a deep breath, dropped what you were doing and left without another word.

“oh, seok, i was ready to pounce him.” you grumbled, stabbing the lettuce on your salad a little too aggressively.

"what, like sexually?" seokmin realized it was a bad joke. the way you were practically throwing daggers at him made it painfully obvious that you were not in the mood to kid around. "i'm sorry, yn, but you really need to lighten up."

"if there's anyone who needs to lighten up, it's him," you argued, munching on your greens. "in fact, maybe i should light him up."

"i still don't understand how you two got off on the wrong foot," seokmin points out, hoping a proper explanation will emit from you.

you shrugged because you didn’t know what to tell your friend. the first time you properly met wonwoo was at your workplace. you even thought he was cute— quiet, had the nicest smile. your other coworkers were even raving about how polite and kind he was.

imagine your surprise when the ‘polite’ cutie from the editorial floor practically threw daggers at you as soon as you stepped into the office with the cerulean blue folders. this threw off wonwoo as he did the preparation for the meeting.

“in my defence, i saved both our asses when i replaced the folders during that important meeting with the new york office,” you grumbled.

unbeknownst to you, wonwoo kept a close track of your encounters. the first time wonwoo met you was through university.

you were the president of the school’s undergraduate publication journal and you were only in your second year. wonwoo was one of the new student recruits, he was a third year. he actually thought you were cute until you had assigned him to deal with international relations— wonwoo had applied for the editorial layout section. wonwoo was not happy.

you probably don’t remember him, wonwoo knew it. how could you? you were running around, trying to figure out the logistics, gather and have people review these submissions, edit and have it all printed before the next term starts. meanwhile, wonwoo was stuck somewhere, trying to solve things on his end. you only left notes on his work, you two barely met during meetings. you two had no direct contact.

once you were in your third year, you had to step down as president and become a casual editor instead. wonwoo became the publication journal’s president that year. you two still had no direct contact.

you unintentionally beat him for that librarian assistant position that wonwoo was gunning for as it'll boost his resume.

somehow, for wonwoo, you were always one step ahead of him and he doesn't like that one bit.

so the day you pranced into the office with your signature bright smile, wonwoo felt territorial over a place where he felt like he finally was one step ahead of you.

wonwoo didn't even like that seungcheol served you the last chocolate cake the day he stopped by at heaven's cloud cafe.

"how could you, cheol?" wonwoo huffed, his arms crossed, as cheol placed the iced americano and a slice of strawberry cake on wonwoo's table.

"it's just a slice, dude," seungcheol looked at him weirdly. "and you don't even like chocolate.”

“yeah, but i wanted a chocolate cake today.”

“jeon wonwoo, quit being weird and eat your cake,” jun comments as he appears behind seungcheol, dropping his things on the floor and sitting on the opposite of wonwoo.

while jun waits for his order to arrive, he worked on the monthly report that his boss has been pressuring him to do. as jun went on rambling about how much he hates his job, wonwoo is occupied with the idea of you. how you were always a step ahead of him.

from then, jeon wonwoo declared a one-sided competition against you.

your idea of jeon wonwoo was simple— he was the cute guy from the editorial team who hates your guts. why? surely, you don’t know.

one rainy afternoon, seokmin made sure to tell you that he won’t be able to give you a ride home, so he gave you the spare umbrella that he had.

“please be kind, ynnie, and let someone stand under your umbrella if they don’t have theirs,” seok reminded you.

“you know damn well i’m always kind,” you huffed with a pout— in which seok just gave you a pointed look before he handed you an umbrella and your lunch.

it seemed that your words had come to haunt you because here you were, walking under the rain using seok’s tiny umbrella, passing by wonwoo who was waiting in front of the office building— probably waiting for the rain to stop as he had no umbrella.

“he’d be waiting all night,” you thought to yourself. you had a long internal battle whether you’d just ignore him but seok’s words were ringing in your ear.

taking a deep breath, you asked “do you want to share an umbrella?”

wonwoo’s startled eyes looked at you and your umbrella. “i’m calling a cab,” he answered. wonwoo wasn’t exactly lying, he’s been trying to get one but the rain has made it extremely difficult to find one.

“well, you’d be calling all night. cabs are extremely hard to find especially at times like these,” you answered. wonwoo hated that you were right. again, always one step ahead of him. “subways are still running, do you want to walk together?”

wonwoo stared at you for what felt like an eternity before you rolled your eyes and pulled him under your umbrella. “we’re walking, stop overthinking it.”

you two were walking quietly in the rain. you’ve been coworkers for almost a year now and you can’t remember the time you and wonwoo had a proper conversation— one that you two didn’t end up bickering about senseless things. you didn’t even know why you two were always butting heads when you two were always working closely together.

as you tried to squeeze the two of you under seok’s tiny umbrella, you noticed that his shoulder was practically soaking wet. of all the umbrellas that he’d give you, he had to choose the tiniest one he owned. this prompted you to hover the umbrella more on his side, allowing the rain to soak your exposed shoulder instead.

wonwoo noticed how you moved the umbrella towards him, making him raise an eyebrow. you were wonwoo’s greatest puzzle— he can’t guess your next move and what’s worse is that you’re always one step ahead of him. “what are you doing?” he asked with furrowed brows.

you looked up at him, suddenly aware of how tall he is. no wonder your arms were getting tired from holding that damn umbrella up. “what do you mean?” you asked, confused by his question.

wonwoo grabbed the umbrella from you— your hands touching for a brief moment. you ignored whatever was forming in the pit of your stomach. maybe you’re just hungry? wonwoo hovered the umbrella closer to you, fully aware of the fact that his shoulder was getting wet from the rain. “you’re getting soaked,” wonwoo replied curtly.

“so are you,” you pointed out as you held the umbrella and tried to move it closer to him. however, wonwoo resisted it.

“i’m fine,” he says.

“whatever you say,” you huffed “it’s not like you intended to have annoyingly broad shoulders anyway,” you grumbled more to yourself, hoping he didn’t hear it. however, wonwoo heard your frustration over his shoulders and he couldn’t fight off the smile on his face.

it was the first time he could openly admit to himself that you made him smile. it was also the first time you caught him smiling.

“oh, how adorable,” mingyu grinned upon hearing the umbrella-sharing story from wonwoo. “and you said you weren’t one for office romances,” he teased earning a glare from wonwoo.

"because i'm not," wonwoo rolled his eyes "and i don't like her," he said almost defensively.

mingyu snorted "yeah, as if i haven't heard that line before." he said while setting up the living room for a movie night between him, wonu, jun, and chan. jun and ichan were running a little late as they were buying drinks.

"well, it's true," wonwoo crossed his arms "there's something about her that makes me feel like..." wonwoo trailed off, finding the right words to say.

"like?" mingyu sat on the couch, turning towards wonwoo— clearly invested.

"like... fuck, i don't know..."

mingyu lets out a dramatic gasp. "dude," he stares at wonwoo in complete awe. "you swore..."

"and?"

"you never swear unless you're completely frustrated," mingyu pointed out, a teasing look glimmering in his eyes. "you like yn, huh?!"

before wonwoo could even answer, mingyu's doorbell rang. saved by the bell, wonwoo thought.

"oh, this is not over, jeon wonwoo." mingyu said with a smirk, making wonwoo groan.

"seok, quit looking at me like that," you whined as you hugged the pillow tighter, placing your chin on top of the pillow.

"what?" seok grinned "it's nice to know that your beef with your coworker is slowly coming to an end."

"he was probably thinking how ridiculous i sounded for mentioning his shoulders," you grumbled. "why did i even mention his shoulders?!" you groaned.

seokmin couldn't help but laugh at how adorable you were being. "oh my sweet, ynnie," he cooed, ruffling your hair.

"here you go, yn," vernon said as he handed you a pint of ice cream. you were hosting a sleepover with seok, vern, and kwan. you three were waiting for seungkwan to arrive with the rest of the snacks.

you initially thought that you'd have the ice cream later but vernon thought that you might need it sooner than later. "thanks, nonie," you smiled at him.

"for what it's worth ynnie, he finally smiled at what you said." vernon said before taking a bite of his ice cream.

"and now yn is acting up because she thought he was cute," seokmin said teasingly, making vernon laugh.

wonwoo believes that the universe is out to get him. he kept complaining that you were always one step ahead of him and now, the universe is starting to retaliate.

"take yn," his manager tells him, making wonwoo clutch tighter on his notebook.

"sir?" wonwoo must be hearing things. there's no way that his manager actually asked him to take yn, right?

"take yn ln," his manager stresses your name. "didn't you two work on the last summit?"

"yes, but sir—"

"then it's final," his manager dismisses wonwoo "you two did a wonderful job with the last summit, i'd like you two to work on this year's professional development sessions."

"you two make a wonderful team," was the final thing that his manager said. without another word, wonwoo left the office feeling defeated. how can wonwoo be one step ahead of you if the universe is making him walk alongside you?

it was no surprise that wonwoo was everyone's office crush in the editorial department. people would often turn their heads whenever he walked by. this time was no exception.

the people on your floor knew the budding tension between you two. so when wonwoo was walking towards your desk with two coffees and a bag of dessert in hand, heads definitely turned and people were bound to talk.

"here," wonwoo hands you an iced americano and a bag of what you assumed was a slice of chocolate cake, catching you off-guard. your desk computer was showing the available job listings in the other departments. "are you thinking of transferring?" he asked as he leaned closer to your monitor— closer to you. his cologne was easily filling your nostrils. you hate that he smells good. how are you supposed to despise a man who smells good?! you thought. wow, the bar is literally on the floor.

"i'm keeping my options open," you answered as you crossed your arms, snapping yourself to reality. "it's not like you're making my life any easier here," you muttered the latter sentence, though you did hope that he heard it.

it's been a month since you and wonwoo started working on the company's professional development sessions. it's also been a month of torture. you've gotten frequent migraines that you started looking up if taking tylenol frequently will kill you. you didn't like the results.

wonwoo heard the latter sentence. while the month has been torture for you, wonwoo didn't mind your company at all. sure you were butting heads most of the time, but he noticed how much you were willing to compromise just to settle a conclusion between you two. wonwoo liked pushing your buttons. he found you cute even if you wanted to bite his head off.

"is this a peace offering?" you motioned to the coffee and the cake that was sitting on your desk.

"for what?" wonwoo smirked, playing coy. "you agreed to the after-session event, fair and square."

"bitch?!" you stared at him as if he's gone mad "if anything, you made it your life's mission to annoy me into agreeing that going to an escape room is what we need after overloading our brains from the sessions."

"yn ln, you know i can go to HR because you cursed at me, right?"

"jeon wonwoo, you know we're banned from that floor unless there's a serious allegation," you said, massaging your temples. "now humour me, what's with the coffee and cake?"

"oh, i stopped by at heaven's cloud café earlier and jeonghan practically insisted that you have these," wonwoo said casually, looking away.

you stared at him suspiciously, "thanks, i guess." you haven't spoken to jeonghan in a while since you've always been swamped with work. but maybe that's why you got free coffee and desserts?

before you could even ask wonwoo another question, he quickly left without even looking back at you. deciding to ignore it, you snapped a quick picture of the coffee and the cake, shooting jeonghan a quick text, "thanks for the coffee & cake, hannie! miss u! ♡"

"jeon wonwoo, is there a reason why yn sent me a text earlier, thanking me for the coffee and cake that i didn't give her?" jeonghan asked wonwoo, who was busy typing away on his laptop. wonwoo stopped at jeonghan's place after work as their other friends will be dropping by later as well.

"i don't know what you're talking about," wonwoo mumbled, not looking at han in the eye.

jeonghan was having none of it. "i'm texting yn that you gave those things to her," he threatened, pulling out his phone.

knowing jeonghan is probably going to commit to it, wonwoo sighed and threw his hands in defeat. "fine."

“and so the plot thickens,” jeonghan smirked, crossing his arms. “so is there a reason why?"

"she was having a rough day," wonwoo explained, closing his laptop. that report will be dealt with tomorrow. "i felt bad."

jeonghan raised an eyebrow at him. "i thought you didn't like her?"

"i don't."

"funny, because that's an odd way of expressing how you dislike her," jeonghan said, making wonwoo roll his eyes.

“i can at least recognize all the work she’s been doing in planning the pd session,” wonwoo replied, defensive.

jeonghan smirked because he knew. he knew that wonwoo was walking on a thin line. in fact, jeonghan was 100% sure that his friend has gone soft for you. “okay, whatever you say.”

“ynnie!” seungcheol calls your name as he spots you, busy choosing what kind of juice you are going to buy. you decided to stop by at the grocery to grab a couple of things for the fridge.

you gave him a small wave, smiling. seungcheol, however, was eager to give you a hug. you, cheol, and han shared a couple of classes back when you three were in university. you were always supportive of their endeavours that’s why cheol & han always had a soft spot for you— they considered you like a little sister that they always had to take care of.

“how was the cake from earlier? you know i’ve been taking a lot of baking lessons recently,” cheol said with a proud smile.

“oh, it was great, cheol!” you said sincerely “i sent jeonghan a text earlier, saying thanks.”

“thanks for what?”

“for the cake…?” you trailed off, a bit off-guard by the confusion plastered on seungcheol’s face.

“why would you thank jeonghan?” seungcheol asked, even more confused.

“jeonghan wasn’t there?”

cheol shook his head no. “unless jeonghan told wonwoo, but i assumed wonwoo bought it for you. i was teasing him about it too, since he doesn’t like chocolate that much.”

“ah,” was all you could say as you felt your cheeks burning, surprised by cheol’s sudden information. is that why jeonghan hasn't replied to your text at all?

cheol suddenly felt like he just triggered a bomb. oh, he fucked up. as if on cue, his phone started ringing. mingyu was calling. "okay, i'm heading off, ynnie."

you just nodded and waved goodbye, feeling confused. it was a good thing that you won't be seeing wonwoo during the weekend otherwise you would've gone mad.

heaven's cloud café was buzzing with people when you came in.

you spent a lot of time debating if you had to improvise how you would spend your sunday morning. you would usually stop by the heaven's cloud café and spend a good chunk of your time there— reading or chatting with jeonghan and seungcheol.

however, knowing that wonwoo might stop by at the cafe, it left you questioning if you wanted to derail your usual sunday routine.

and yet, your pride got the best of you. no matter how much you didn't want to see wonwoo, you weren't going to derail your sunday routine especially if it involved coffee.

although the café was usually busy on the weekends, today was unusually busy— you wondered if there was a special promotion taking place. jeonghan hasn't even acknowledged your presence yet as han is busy manning the till while also preparing the drinks. cheol is probably in the kitchen, preparing food.

you settled on the last empty table at the very back— dropping off your things, deciding to order a bit later once the line from the till calms down.

while you were busy scrolling on your phone, someone placed a tall glass of iced americano and a slice of strawberry cake on your table.

"you should try this, it's a house favourite," someone with a deep voice said. you looked up and saw jeon wonwoo with slightly messy hair, wearing your favourite black specs and a white button-up, smiling at you. fuck, he looks good. is hell officially frozen?

"are you perhaps a twin of jeon wonwoo?" you asked, completely boggled.

"yn, what the hell?" wonwoo laughs at your incredulous take, making you even more confused. why is this wonwoo variant laughing and smiling at you? most of all, why are they bringing you food when you haven't even ordered?! "what made you say that?"

you reached out your hand and poked his cheek, making him laugh. "are you really wonwoo from sector17 press?"

"yn, seriously, what makes you think that it's not me?"

"why are you so smiley all of a sudden," you cried, weirded out. "and why are you serving me food?"

"my, do you like it when i give you a hard time?" wonwoo said, teasingly "is that a kink of yours?"

"you're fucking weird, jeon wonwoo," you smacked his arm. "i've never met the weekend version of wonwoo and i don't think i like it," you cried quietly to yourself.

"cute," wonwoo says quietly, still smiling at you. "i'll talk to you later, okay? i'm helping cheol and han for the day and i feel like they'll beat my ass if they see me slacking off." wonwoo gently ruffled your hair and walked away, leaving you flabbergasted.

you felt that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. oh god, what the fuck just happened?

the friday night that jeonghan found out that wonwoo used jeonghan’s good name to protect his image, was the same night that seungcheol bumped into you at the grocery store.

drinks were getting passed rather at a rapid speed. for them, this night was a gem among other nights. most of jeonghan’s friends were at his place, enjoying the night away.

“ya, wonwoo,” cheol suddenly calls wonwoo, who was barely drinking— as per cheol’s opinion. “i thought tonight was the night that you were going to get loose.”

wonwoo chuckled, “i’m pacing myself.”

jeonghan snorted. “cheol, you’re talking to the guy who still cannot admit his high school crush on our ynnie.”

this earned a couple of laughs from the group, mainly from mingyu and jun.

“yoon jeonghan, just because you’re in a happy relationship—” wonwoo threw a balled up napkin at him, obviously not knowing how to reply.

“oh, wons, that reminds me…” cheol started rubbing the back of his head “i told yn that it was you who gave her the food and not jeonghan.”

as soon as the words left cheol’s mouth, it’s as if wonwoo felt annoyingly sober. he downed the tall shot of bacardi that was supposed to be mingyu’s shot.

“i don’t get why you’re tiptoeing around your feelings for her,” mingyu pointed out, filling the shot glass again. “it’s not like there’s a company policy against dating your coworkers.”

“isn’t there?” joshua asked. wonwoo shook his head no. “lucky bastard.” shua muttered, taking mingyu’s shot.

“you guys, what’s the point of doing rounds when you’re taking the shots as you please?” mingyu whines.

“i thought you didn’t like yn?” jun asked wonwoo, taking a bite of the kimchi jeon. “or is that like a weird defence mechanism against your feelings?”

"oh please," mingyu rolled his eyes "wonwoo had a huge crush on yn ever since our uni days," he pointed out, prompting wonwoo to hit him.

"weren't you two in like a school publication together?" jeonghan asked, taking the shot from mingyu.

"oh, right! you had like a one-sided beef with yn," jun's eyes lit up briefly, then proceeded to smirk at wonwoo, "ya! is that how you show your affection?"

"obviously not," cheol grins "our wonwoo is the type to show his affection through actions, not words."

"what are the chances that they'd end up working under the same company though," joshua commented with a fond smile.

"and in the same department too," jeonghan added.

wonwoo groans, before taking a shot, "i hate all of you."

"you two have a deep history, have you two never talked?" joshua asked, now invested.

wonwoo shakes his head, "we only talk about work."

"if they talk about work," mingyu laughs, "all they do is argue."

"how do you know all of this, gyu?" cheol asked in disbelief, laughing, "you work at a different company."

"i work with seokmin," mingyu replied "and seok likes to tell stories about yn."

"ya, didn't we invite him tonight?" cheol suddenly remembers, looking at his phone to check his message thread with seok.

"he's probably with yn," wonwoo muttered before taking another shot. this gets attention from the rest of the group— a series of teasing smirks and playful looks being exchanged.

like a kid on christmas morning, a bright smile appears on mingyu's face. "won, are you perhaps jealous?" he teased, with the new-found information.

wonwoo scoffed but didn't answer the question. wonwoo swore he wasn't the jealous type. but for some reason, he can't get over the fact that his friend was closer to you.

wonwoo knew that there was nothing going on with you and seok.

however, seok was your person, wonwoo would always think. you felt happier around seok. if wonwoo didn't know any better, he would assume that you liked seok. maybe she does, wonwoo can't help but think.

"you know they're just friends, right?" mingyu reminded wonwoo.

wonwoo doesn't say anything. he was just waiting for his friends to butt into the conversation. wonwoo's eyes caught jeonghan's. jeonghan smiles, that mischievous smile of his, leaving wonwoo confused.

"won, do you wanna know who she likes?" jeonghan instigates, leaning forward.

wonwoo waits, does he really wanna know?

jeonghan smiles, then says "you."

wonwoo didn't believe in signs— for him, every little decision a person makes is pulled by the desired outcome. however, you were his only exception.

"if ynnie stops by at the café on sunday, will you finally talk to her like civilized beings?" jeonghan's words rang loudly in wonwoo's ear.

"i don't believe in signs," wonwoo states simply.

"and you can't make an exception for yn?" jeonghan knew how to play the game. he's just waiting for wonwoo to swallow his pride and address his suppressed feelings.

"maybe." wonwoo answers, making jeonghan smile mischievously. and so, it begins, jeonghan thinks.

it was ridiculous— waiting for something to happen when he could've just started a conversation with you. but it's so hard when it's you. god, it's so hard for wonwoo when it's you because you make him feel things that he thought were only exaggerated by films.

wonwoo didn't know if jeonghan's revelation about you was a lie, but he'd be lying if he said that it didn't affect him— because it did. it felt like he was back in high school and he's not sure if that's something he liked.

jeonghan and seungcheol were very much aware of your routine. every now and then, you would visit the café every sunday— even during the morning rush. they were most definitely aware of what's waiting for you and wonwoo.

the two owners had tasked wonwoo to help with serving the orders as more people flooded the café. "make yourself useful while you wait for your girlfriend!" was all jeonghan said as he handed wonwoo an apron.

and so when you entered the café, wonwoo gathered all his strength to talk to you casually, even if it sent him through an overdrive.

while you were walking towards the washroom, you bumped into jeonghan who was grinning at you. you knew that man long enough to know that he's hiding something when he's smiling like that.

"ya," you pulled jeonghan to the side. "what are you hiding?"

"what do you mean?" han answers, blinking at you innocently.

"why is wonwoo being nice and smiley," you asked him with a huff, crossing your arms. wonwoo being smiley was something you didn't know would affect you this bad. "he's being too cute for my liking," you muttered the latter part.

jeonghan laughs at your dilemma. "isn't that what you wanted?"

"what do you mean—" you were confused with jeonghan's comment until it dawned on you. you remembered the time you went out for drinks with jeonghan and seungkwan. "yoon jeonghan!" you slapped his arm, making him yelp but he was still laughing.

"what?" he looks at you, acting confused as he rubs his arm. "i'm being supportive here!"

"you promised me you wouldn't tell him," you pouted.

"oh please, he was jealous of seok, i had to throw him something."

"so you told wonwoo about the time i got drunk with you and professed my undying feelings for him instead?!"

"no," jeonghan replies. his eyes moved past yours, looking past your shoulders, and smiled. "but i think you already did." jeonghan says, patting your shoulder before he left.

wonwoo was sitting across from you with a smile on his face. you've never seen this man smile at you this much, it was starting to freak you out.

"don't look at me like that," you grumbled, glaring at wonwoo.

"i can't help it," he looks at you almost tenderly. "you look adorable even when you're sulking like that."

you felt the familiar sensation in your stomach. how can jeon wonwoo just say things like these to you? does he not care about your well-being?! how you'd feel?

"that was a long time ago, by the way," you said in defence— as if the damage hadn't been done. wonwoo waits for you to continue your sentence. "you know, me having a crush on you," you continued, your tone getting quieter after each word.

"i'm sorry, what was that?" wonwoo leans closer, as if he didn't hear what you just said. you knew he was just teasing you as you noticed that he was trying to fight off a smirk.

"i don't like you, jeon wonwoo," you whispered, prompting wonwoo to only focus on your lips.

"that's too bad because," wonwoo paused briefly and leaned even more, "i like you."

his face was dangerously close to yours— wonwoo didn't care if half of his body was practically hovering over the table. he wanted to lean closer to you.

you felt frozen in your place. a part of you wanted to lean back and smack him, but there's also a part of you that just wanted to grab his stupid face and kiss it.

"ya!" jeonghan suddenly appeared beside your table "if you two are going to make out in my café, can you move to cheol's office? i'm planning to keep this place family-friendly," jeonghan snickered.

maybe you should just kiss wonwoo and smack jeonghan instead.

hello hello friends! i wrote this while i was sick in bed & was high on buckley's flu meds, so this is v cheesy. i hope you are all well & healthy! ♡

869 notes · View notes

fatesundress · 1 year

Text

⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this.

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same.

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it.

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction?

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet.

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner.

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party.

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten.

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again."

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him.

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins.

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks.

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them.

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did."

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.”

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything — is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting.

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers.

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient.

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still.

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in.

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him.

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #NO LONGER!#but it is only a two-parter sorry. this is it #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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redtaylorsversiongirlie · 7 months

Note

hi! my first req so i apologise if it's incredibly awkward >.< saw you were looking for ts x hp requests and i would love to see 'mine' with james, if possible? tysm!! <3

𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆.

❥ pairings; james potter x fem!reader

❥ summary; after a failed marriage of your parents, your views on love are pessimistic. however, a certain handsome waiter makes you believe in it again.

❥ warnings; muggle au

❥ a/n; this is so bad n short but i have a writer's block so i'm sorry yall :(

"and what can i get you?" the waiter turned to you and gave you a smile he didn't give your friend.

you weren't stupid. you knew this boy— james — was flirting with you. you knew this since the very first time you walked into this café and he was there. but you had to act clueless. you didn't want to give him a chance just to get your heart shattered.

"cappuccino would be good," you said with a small smile. it was the kind of smile that shouldn't get his hopes high.

he nodded and winked at you. "i'll be right back."

your friend dorcas elbowed you harshly in the ribs and you let out a groan of pain.

"what was that for?"

she placed her hands on your shoulders and started shaking with you.

"wake up! that bloke's totally into you!"

you slapped her hands away. "well, i know that!he's not being really secretive about it."

"then why aren't you flirting back? he's really handsome, i'd totally go for him if he was a girl."

you rolled your eyes. "he probably just wants to get into my pants anyway."

"he's been flirting with you for weeks! if he really only wanted to sleep with you, it would already happen."

you didn't respond to that because james was back with your order.

you looked up and thanked him and he gave you that smile again, not even bothering to glance at dorcas before walking away.

when he was gone and dorcas started talking about her new job, you noticed a piece of paper on the small plate under your cup.

you furrowed your eyebrows and read it.

call me;

his number was scribbled bellow.

mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

when you got home that day, you placed the piece of paper on your bedside table and stared at it. you wondered all afternoon and evening if you should call him and give him a chance or not.

as you were lying in bed, trying to fall asleep with that handsome waiter in your mind, you thought about it all.

you hated to admit it but your heart did in fact skip a beat when he smiled or winked at you and you really wanted to see that more often and not only in the café.

before you knew what you were doing, you propped on one of your elbows and reached for the piece of paper and your phone.

you dialed it, your heart beating fast and your palms getting sweaty.

it was only after one ring you heard his voice.

"hello?"

you opened your mouth but no sound was coming for about a second before you managed to stutter, "h-hi..."

he must have recognised your voice because the next thing he said was, "thank god, i was already thinking i made a complete fool out of myself!"

you let out a small laugh. "no, not at all. i'm sorry i'm calling this late but i had a lot of things to...consider."

you imagined him nod even though you couldn't see it.

"no, that's completely alright. i'm very glad you called. . ." when you didn't say anything, he continued, "this is the part where you say your name."

your eyes widen. "oh, right! sorry. my name's y/n."

"y/n," he repeated. "pretty name for a pretty girl."

it was cliche and you knew it but it made you blush anyway.

"i was wondering if you wanted to. . maybe grab a coffee or go to the cinema or something."

you smiled. "i'd like anything."

"okay! it's a surprise then. how about i pick you up tomorrow at four?"

you quickly thought if you have any plans for tomorrow at four but you knew if there were any, you'd cancel them.

"yes, sounds great. i'll text you the adress."

"awesome!" even though you couldn't see him, you swore you heard a smile in his voice. "all settled then. see you tomorrow, y/n."

"see you, james. goodnight!"

"goodnight."

mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

the next day at four, just as he promised, james's car was outside your flat building.

you practically ran out of the door and soon regretted to giving into dorcas pleads to wear dress when it was almost autumn already but you didn't want to go back to change now that james saw you.

he got out of his car and like a true gentleman he opened the door for you.

"hi!" he beamed when you reached him. "you look beautiful."

blood rushed into your cheeks. "thank you. you don't look bad yourself."

to say james was good looking would be an incorrent statement. he was so goddamn beautiful with his black curls in his eyes and you didn't regret anything.

you got into the passenger's seat and james got into his driver's one.

"ready to go?"

you nodded.

mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

the whole way to wherever james was taking you, you both spend it by saying the most basic things about yourselves. you found out he's a college student and he plays rugby and that he'd like to be a professional rugby player in the future and at that moment you decided you were going to watch his nearest game to surprise him.

you yourself talked quite a lot during the care ride which was unusual because you only talked a lot with people close to you.

you arrived at a lake you haven't been at before. it was surrounded by forest and grass. as you were looking around, james pulled out a blanket and a picnic basket out of the car. when you turned back to him, the blanket was laid on the grass by the water and james finished pulling out all the food he brought. you suddenly realised that he must have remembered everything you ever ordered because that's what was lying on the blanket; all your favorite donuts, croissants, ice creams...

"wow," you gasped quietly.

you started to believe for the first time.

mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

"can you believe it?" you said, looking up at james from your place on his chest.

you two were lying on his couch in his flat just minutes after your first fight. it was a silly one, you knew it but you still were surprised it didn't end up with you slamming the entrance door of his flat.

he chuckled. "i do." he pressed his lips to the topof your head and intertwined his fingers with yours. "we'll never make your parents mistakes."

that was the most comforting sentence anyone could ever say to you and you thought, i can see it now.

mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine

flash forward and you and james were taking on the world together. you two went so far that you started sort of living together (you spent most of your time at his place and you couldn't remember the last time you were at yours).

your relationship with james was sky-high. you told him everything and you started to think he may already know you better than you knew yourself. it was scary at first but you soon realised it could be the best thing you had ever done.

however, even the best things come to end.

or so you thought.

you still remembered it. 2:30am, screaming at james because of something stupid but he didn't even raise his voice at you. he was completely calm and that was maybe what made you so angry.

you ran out crying out into the streets and the realization hit you harder than ever. James was trying to talk things out and all you did was shout and then ran out without giving him a chance.

you could feel an ache in your heart that you knew so very well.

was he going to leave me now?

your hands began to shake, the rain mixing with your tears as you began thinking of the worst scenarios ever; a future without james.

but that's when you saw him; he was running towards you with his hair wet and his shirt glued to his body.

he stopped in front of you, breathing heavily. he brought his hand to your face and you didn't flinch. you knew you didn't have to. he got some of your hair out of your face and looked straight into your eyes. he knew what you were thinking. he always did.

"i'll never leave you alone."

#james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter smut #james potter #james potter angst #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry potter smut

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softlyspector · 6 months

Text

Apple cinnamon

Summary: You and Joel get away for the weekend.

Pairing: tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~5.3k

Warnings: fall themed!, no outbreak tattoo!au, reader has issues with touch, brief insecurity and anxiety, fluff, uhhhh and smut! (not saying what it's a surprise but be aware yknow), many feelings

A/N: Honeyed is BACK, baby! And I'm so happy I get to share them with you again. As always, we are pretending Joel can draw. Thank you for reading! I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!

You can find out how Joel and Honey got together here.

“Maybe we go north in search of some cooler weather.”

It’s mid November and the Texas sun still burns hot and bright, shining onto the back deck of the Miller home in undulating drifts.

The air is scented warm, and old. It smells like sunshine on decaying leaves, like cloves and cinnamon and the bitter acidity of Joel’s coffee.

Joel isn’t quite looking at you, his gaze turned toward the edge of his property. Steam curls in the air above his mug, liquid the color of pitch swirling in its depths. It’s some small miracle that you’ve managed to get him to add cinnamon to the coffee grounds. You have a very strong suspicion that it has everything to do with you mentioning how nice it tasted.

You put your book down and fold it closed over one finger to hold your place.

Mornings are always spent like this when you stay over at Joel’s. Coffee on the back deck in the sun, Joel silent as he stares out across the yard, you reading and pretending not to notice him watching for the deer he started leaving corn out for. Joel hadn’t named the chickens, but you’ve very sure the deer have identities, and even assumed personalities.

“And do what?” You ask, propping your chin in your hand.

He shrugs and takes a long sip of his coffee, like it’s inconsequential to him. He still doesn’t look at you, a muscle jumping in the strong line of his jaw.

But you know Joel now, and he probably has a map hidden somewhere with the scenic routes north traced out, the stops you could take along the way clearly marked and noted in the margins in his messy handwriting. He has such a particular way of making you feel special, like he was always thinking about you. You know, now, that the clenching of his jaw is his own nerves beating against the back of his throat.

“I’d like that,” you say, tilting your head to the side. “Like a road trip?”

“Mm.” He glances at you and then back to the treeline, now leafless, bare and unprotected. The world seems so much wider, so much bigger and lonelier. “Just for a couple days.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Joel sets his coffee cup down and labors to his feet and when he passes you, he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “Next weekend work for you, honey?” He asks against your skin.

“It does.”

“Good.”

The sky is still a purplish dawn blue when Joel pulls up to your apartment building.

He intends on shutting off the engine and knocking, so he can take your bag and carry it down the stairs and open the door for you, but as soon as his truck comes to a halt the street door flies open.

You cross the sidewalk in two big steps and open the truck door, even as Joel is leaning across the passenger seat to do it for you.

He huffs gently, mildly irritated that you’re snatching the chance to be gentlemanly right out of his hands. His mama raised him better than letting a lady open her own door.

But the exasperation melts away as soon as he glances up into your face and finds you smiling at him. It’s a big smile, and bright.

“Well,” he says. “G’mornin’, ma’am.”

“Hi, Joel,” you laugh. It’s a rare thing but getting less so and he already feels like he’s doing everything he should be. “I, uh,” you gesture to your bag on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he snaps his seatbelt off. “Hold on.”

He rounds the truck and takes your bag from you to slide in next to his in the backseat while you climb into the passenger seat and immediately start fiddling with the radio.

“I could have done that,” you say when he’s back behind the wheel.

“No need for you to do it,” he answers. And then, because you’re still smiling and clearly giddy, he asks, amused, “You excited?”

The morning is warm and your shoulders are bare in the early slant of the sun. He takes stock of your shoulder tattoo, eyes sliding across the ink he’d put there to cover up something you hated. It looks good on you and you seem, at least to him, to feel more confident for it.

He tells himself it’s the tattoo that’s done that, anyway.

Joel still draws designs for you anytime he gets the chance, and he pretends he hasn’t noticed you doing the same for him, though he hasn’t gotten to see any of them yet.

Your shoulders tip inward just a fraction. You fade, wilt, just the tiniest bit at his question. “I just love road trips.”

“Good,” he slides his hand over yours. “Otherwise things were about to get mighty uncomfortable.”

You loosen again, smile and lean against the center console. “Good morning, Joel.”

“Hi, honey,” he answers and it feels sappy and stupid and he loves it. You deserve it, and some days, he thinks he might, too.

You lean easily into his hands, chin dropped into the cupped palms of his hands, eyes focused and waiting. When he kisses you hello, you taste like mint.

Joel tilts your head back, slides one hand along your jaw, fingers digging into the soft skin behind your ear, while the other shifts to your waist, dragging you that much closer, even though the center console prevents him from bringing you as close as he’d like.

Your lips part against his at his slightest urging, like you’re desperate to give yourself over to him these days. He can’t say the sentiment isn’t returned. He wishes he could pull you closer, drag you into him, soothe the ache that gnaws at his belly. When your tongue slides against his you make a tiny sound in the back of your throat that makes him groan softly into you.

You’re glowing when he pulls back. You always look pretty through the haze of early morning sunshine. “Suppose we should get to it, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head, smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. “Where’s the map?”

“How’d y’know I got a map?”

You roll your eyes. “Because you’re you. And you don’t even use the computer you have, I know you aren’t trusting the map on your phone.”

Said paper map is grudgingly dropped into your hands. You unfold it and you smile when you take in the outlined routes north, the point of your finger dipping along the marked lines.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and seem amused. You lean over and kiss his cheek and everything in the world feels like it might be okay. “Let’s get coffee before we get on the road.”

The drive is long, but peaceful, and the routes Joel had mapped out are so far out of the way that you never even see a sign for the interstate.

You head east first and then north, stopping wherever Joel sees fit to, in tiny towns and oddly quaint little villages where the trees are somehow still fringed in orange and red and brown, where locals tell winding ghost stories, where everything feels storybook perfect in the chilliness that settles in the air, swaddled between one night’s moon and the morning.

Each stop feels like it’s preserved in honey and amber.

There always seems to be some tiny autumn festival with apple bobbing and corn mazes and haunted houses and stalls that sell apple pie and cider, locally made crafts and novelty t-shirts. The ghost tours are a little funny, and not at all spooky. It’s surprising they’re still telling those stories, so far past Halloween.

You get lost in one of the corn mazes, fingers tangled together stickily, the red syrup from candied apples staining your tongue red and pink. Joel doesn’t much care for public displays of affection, but when you find yourself in a particularly deserted portion of the maze and escape seems impossible, he pulls you in tight and kisses you. He kisses the cherry and apple taste right from your lips. He tastes like the sweetness of caramel and cream, coffee and cinnamon.

There’s a buzzing kind of lightness in your veins, like a colony of little bees busy building something permanent in your chest. The chill feels nice, the heat of his chest pressed to yours, even better. The quiet shush of the stalks is a gentle music.

When you escape the maze, Joel folds his fingers between yours again and kisses the back of your hand.

You pick apples right from the tree one state over from the corn maze, and promise Joel that you’ll try not make them into something resembling pie when you get back home. You’re both poor cooks, and even worse at baking.

But you’ll try, for him.

And Joel will eat it and grimace, and tell you it’s good, and you’ll pretend to believe him.

A couple hours down the road from the apples, there’s a pumpkin patch. You pay a couple bucks each to smash the last of the season’s left over pumpkins, already starting to rot. The cab of the truck smells like pumpkin guts for a few hours after that, on account of all the muck of it all over your clothes. You think it's funny, and Joel smiles, a good sport about pumpkin guts all over his truck and clothes.

Joel hums while he drives, to whatever music you put on. Sometimes he complains about your choice in music, but he always settles into it. He holds your hand and turns down the volume when you start to talk about something.

He doesn’t complain when you keep his hand in yours, tracing the lines in his hands and the bump of veins in his wrist and the back of his hand. It’s his fault, you’d say, if he ever said something about it. He’s made you like this, desperate and needy for something only he can give to you.

It’s his fault, that you’re healing and happier and looking to the future. It’s his fault, all of it.

On your last night you stop in an inn after driving and indulging in any little thing for the better part of a very long day. You’re still a day’s drive away from home, but in the morning you are heading home.

You eat at the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel, watch Joel finish out dinner with yet another slice of apple pie and another cup of black coffee before you head to your room and throw open the window of your room to a chilly night.

Real chilly, that is, not Texas chilly. And tomorrow you’ll go back to that decidedly not seasonally appropriate weather.

The sky is a dusky, autumn purple, tinged at the edges with midnight blue and a dying crimson. A sharp wind whips the curtain back, and the air you breathe in burns your lungs.

You shiver and turn to Joel with a small smile. His mouth quirks in return.

“Good day?”

“Mhm. Really good.”

He shifts and then pulls off his jacket and toes off his boots by the door, still looking down. “You sure?” Joel asks offhandedly. “This trip wasn’t a total waste of time for ya?”

“Of course not,” you murmur, trying to suppress a smile.

He glances up from folding his jacket over the back of the chair in the corner.

The question mark etched into his voice makes your chest ache. “I like spending time with you, you know,” you tease. You reach a hand out, open and close your fingers to beckon him closer.

“I know,” Joel says but doesn’t protest, just walks closer until you can fit your hands against his chest. You trail your fingers to the collar of his flannel, not daring to meet his eyes, and pluck open the first button.

When he doesn’t stop you, you continue, pushing one button after another through its little pocket until you run out of room and the material parts in your hands. His breathing hitches when you draw your hands back up to his chest, nerves stretched thin. You are still unable to meet his eyes, and so you stare at his collarbone instead, the broad planes of his chest, the line of his shoulders, and slide your thumb along the base of his throat.

It would be nice, to kiss him there, to press the edge of your teeth against his skin.

Joel’s skin is warm, shaded from hours spent in the sun. The muscle flexes beneath your touch, tendons tightening and straining in his neck. This close he smells like the earthen fields you’d walked through earlier, the crisp tangle of apples, woodsmoke on chilled air. He groans softly when you lean in.

The breeze from the window is icy against your back, raking deep nails into your flesh in a shiver that traces each vertebrae in your spine. You lean in, tipping your head forward, intoxicated by the scent of him, the feeling of his skin beneath your hand, the warmth he radiates like a furnace.

Maybe he’s looking at you the same way, drawn like a moth to flame, to your body, to the heat of you.

Joel cups one hand around your wrist and the little illusion shatters immediately. “Look at me, honey.”

You raise your eyes from the broad stretch of his shoulders to his gaze, embarrassment pooling in your belly with a sharp twist. “What?”

He shakes his head and presses one big hand against your jaw. Instead of answering, he kisses you, his other hand anchoring against your hip. You feel him smile against your mouth, amusement pouring off him in waves. “You’re just real pretty when you want somethin’.”

“Ugh,” you push him gently away and turn out of his grip. A smile pulls at your own mouth when you close the window to the night and pull the blinds and then the curtains. “You’re very funny and very cruel.”

His arms circle you again, tight and thick around your body. “I ain’t either of those things.” His lips brush the space behind your ear, the shell of it, until another shiver slides up your spine. “But you are pretty.”

And he is cruel. Your want for each other has flowered over the last few days. Though you’re used to sharing a bed with Joel, sharing a hotel room has been different. It’s been more intense, more intimate. Especially when you’ve spent every single second together, still smelling of each other and the cold and outside when you climb into bed, even after showering, like you aren’t quite able to rid yourself of the other.

Joel is too polite, too cautious with you, to do anything about it. He waits for you, always.

But you want so badly it’s like a physical ache in your chest, resting thick fists against your breast bone, hammering against your lungs, the slippery, wet viscera of your heart.

The stubble on his jaw scrapes against your cheek, the prickle of it pleasant. It sends shockwaves across your skin, bolts of electricity sparking in your veins, right to your belly. Something in your chest tightens, but not the usual thing that makes you want to cower away from arms curled around your body, but the kind that pinches in and makes you want to stay, makes you want to fall into him.

His hands could wrap around the curves of your ribs and tear open your chest and you would let him, because he would be that much closer. The feeling still scares you, just a little bit. It makes your skin tighten and smart.

It also makes you feel safe and calm.

The contrast is dizzying and, you feel, easily misplaced in your mind, considering how badly you want him. So, you turn in his arms and say, “You are, too. Real pretty.”

It’s delightful, the way his cheeks go pink right beneath his beard. He clears his throat gruffly and pulls just slightly out of your grasp. “You, uh, wanna get ready for bed? Or we can go on that shitty ghost tour that guy at the front desk told us about.”

You think of it for a moment—you and Joel, hands tangled together, led around the little town’s main thoroughfare, staying toward the back of the group packed with local couples having a date night outing. It would be cold and Joel would put his arm around your back and you’d probably drink something warm.

But—

“Mm,” you hum, looking him over. “I’m tired, I think.”

“All right,” he pushes on your hip, pats the curve of your waist gently. “Get goin’ then.”

You cup your hands against his jaw and kiss him one last time, tasting the lingering press of apple pie and vanilla cream against your tongue. “Thank you for today,” you say. “For the last few days.”

Joel, always bad with thank yous, just nods, like it was a given he should give you such a special little trip.

More weekends than not, these days, you stay over at Joel’s place on the weekends. He likes having you there, even if the weekday evenings are a little lonelier for it. He likes waking up with you, likes getting to see you at your most raw and unfiltered. And, you always look most beautiful in the morning light, when you’re smiling at him just because he fixed you a cup of coffee.

The other part of that is that he likes getting to sleep next to you, even on the nights where you don’t touch. He likes having you within an arm’s reach, rather than halfway across town in an apartment he worries about the safety of. Most nights that you stay with him are bliss. They are—you in his arms, your mouth against his, his hands tracing your bare skin, your tattoos, in the darkness of his bedroom, your fingers on his naked skin.

He always stops before things go too far, because that’s not what you need from him. You need slow and steady and sure. And that’s what he gives you. Even if he wants you so badly it hurts sometimes.

But you’ll let him know when you’re ready. He knows you feel it too, that pull, but he also knows that the fear always wins out, too.

This night with you, fresh from the shower, skin pliant and soft against his, feels different.

You’re just as easy in his arms, just as comfortable and soft.

But, somehow, it feels different, in this dark, unfamiliar hotel room in this tiny town with winter cold knocking at the windows. The scent of your skin is different, like salted caramel and chilled autumn air and him. You’ve spent so much time in his truck and his house that you’ve started to smell like home.

Usually, you smell like summer, like the earthy smell of sun-warmed skin, like coconut and spun sugar, and he misses it. He can’t wait to have you back home.

He swears he can taste the damp of your skin, water left over from the shower, the tang of your sweat against his tongue when he sucks a harsh line down your throat.

You make a keening noise, delicate with want, low in the back of your throat. His thigh is between your legs. That’s new, something recent that’s been happening more and more in the last few weeks, something you haven’t gotten self conscious or worried about wanting, about taking. You never get off that way, though he wishes you would.

He can feel the heat of your pussy through two layers of fabric. You grind against the muscle. That feels different here, too. It feels more.

He presses warm palms on your waist and hips and ribs. He traces the outline of your tattoo, taps his fingers along your spine.

His touch is the same as he always makes it, slow and steady and sure, and only asking for as much as you’ll give.

But your hands trail hot across his chest, against his neck. Something about you seems different, hungrier.

“Joel,” you murmur into his throat, lips brushing his collarbone. Your hips stop their slow roll against him. “I want to touch you.”

“Honey,” he grits, an ache forming hard and low in his gut, when your hands slide down his chest to his belly. His cock twitches and he knows you must feel it. “You sure that’s what you want?”

You stop, fingers grazing his lower stomach before you retract them. “I won’t if you—”

“No,” his hand curls around yours, keeping it in place against his skin. “I want it more than you can know, darlin’. Just don’t seem very gentlemanly of me.”

“Why?”

You tilt your head, that odd little thing you do, more animal than person sometimes in your curiosity. The dark of the room casts your face, and your eyes, in shadows. You look hungry, needful.

“‘Cause the right thing for me to do would be to touch you first, honey. Ladies first n’all.” The ache claws at him again, slides hot fingers around his lungs. “Baby, I want to. I wanna touch you so bad.”

It feels damn near wrong to admit but you just hum.

You nudge your forehead against his. “I want this first. I want to touch you. Wanna make you feel good. Can I?”

He nods, just once, and releases your wrist, because you said it’s what you want. And he does too, whether he should or not. Your hand slips lower, beneath the waistband of his briefs, and then your fingers are circling tight and hot around his cock.

A curse breaks past his lips.

Your breathing hitches against his neck, the muscle straining against your lips when he grits his teeth. You press your mouth against his skin, your curled fist slowly stroking down, thumb curving over the tip. “Oh,” you murmur, your lashes tickle against the underside of his jaw.

He grunts against you, but you just kiss the rapidly pounding pulse in his throat. Your teeth dig into his skin, the curve of his collarbone, sharp and sudden. You bite him, tongue following the sting, hot and wet. You twist your wrist around him, dragging a sound up out of him that borders on obscene.

“Is that good, Joel?”

Christ.

You’re going to kill him.

“Yeah,” he grunts.

You’re going so fucking slow at it, the caress of your hand careful and too warm, dragging the precome at the head down, your palm not nearly slick enough.

But he doesn’t want you to stop, it feels so fucking good. And Joel knows he’s going to embarrass himself, because he’s older and no one had touched him like this in a long time. He’s going to come quick.

The way you’re stroking him is better than the way he’s hastily been touching himself in the shower lately, his own palm so rough and quick, staving off the images that come unbidden. You above him, sinking down onto his length, features twisted in pleasure; you falling to your knees, lips a little o as you take him into your mouth—

Another moan slips past gnashed teeth when your fingers graze the skin of his balls, palm almost curious when you cup him in your hand.

“Gimme your hand.”

You’re breathing hard against him, chest rising and falling against his arm, the peaks of your tightened nipples brushing his bicep. You nod against him, forehead pressed against his jaw, eyes glued to his cock when you push his briefs down and pull your hand away from him.

You don’t question what he wants with your hand, and so when he spits into your palm, you gasp and then groan.

Well, thank Christ for that. Thank fucking God you liked it. His dick jumps in your hand when you slide it back over his skin, the slick noise of it intoxicating.

Your hand is smaller than his, the way you touch him so different from the way he touches himself. You’re soft with it, and slower. When you curl yourself tighter into his side, mouth pressed to the pulse in his throat, he reaches for you, touches the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist.

A needy little sigh snaps out against his collarbone, and you tilt your face up to kiss him, the press of your lips wet and soft and open. He wants to devour you, push you back and learn every single inch of you, all the parts of you he wants so badly to memorize.

Really, he just wants his face in your pussy, to swallow you down, find out what your cunt feels like clenching around his fingers.

But you said—

This first. Him first. Your tight fist around his cock, learning him first, making him come first. His hand trails up your side, cups your breast through your shirt, pinches the stiff peak of your nipple softly to be rewarded with a keening sound that makes him buck his hips up into your hand.

“Christ,” he mutters against your mouth, cupping your jaw in his hard. Your pupils are blown wide, lips swollen from kissing him. You tasted like apple pie, even though he was the one that had it at dinner. “Doin’ so good, feels so good. My good girl.”

Your eyes flutter shut, forehead knocking against his again, moaning so soft against him, breath a tiny little huff against his lips. “You feel good,” you say, stroking him slower, steady. “So good, Joel.”

He’d never admit it, but that white hot thing curling around his spine goes tight with your words, and just like that he’s at the brink of spilling over your fingers.

“Honey—” he tries to warn you but you just twist your wrist and say it again.

“So good. Always good to me,” your breath washes warm over his skin. His chest goes hot and tight, a groan tearing right out of his throat, straining against you, fucking up into your hand as he spurts over your fingers, praises from your mouth still being gifted to him, over and over and over, pleasure stealing his voice.

You, you, you.

Everywhere, his whole world in this dark room, kissing him saying thank you and you did so good and thank you for letting me touch you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. He doesn’t do well with thank you, it curls up tight around the bones in his chest, stomps on something delicate.

His mind goes silent and still, satiated and warm with your praise, despite himself. You believe things about him that he’ll never believe about himself. But he needs to give back to you, sink his fingers into you and give that pleasure right back to you. He’s desperate for it. He doesn’t need anything else but that, to make sure you’re taken care of, that you feel as good as he does, better.

But when he reaches for you, you push his hands away. “No. No. I don’t want anything. It’s all right. It’s okay to just take things sometimes, Joel.”

It feels wrong to let it go, to take from you, but he does. You’re saying no, and he has to be okay with that. There are tissues in a box on the nightstand that make for quick cleanup. He’s only a little shamed by that, though you don’t seem to mind.

Hands through his hair, massaging the back of his neck, the knots permanently twisted into the top of his spine. Your fingers are sleepy, going slower and slower until they stop and only occasionally twitch when you momentarily jerk back awake again.

“Go to sleep, darlin’,” he murmurs against your forehead, the curl of your body tucked in close to his, warm and safe, both of you.

The next morning, you wake well before Joel. His face is slack, years washed away from his face in sleep, hair mussed and unkempt.

He’s snoring lightly.

When you pull away and sit up next to him, toes brushing the cold floor, the worry hits you like a freight train. Anxiety, like it had pooled somewhere different during the night, rushes in to hit you all at once.

Maybe you should have let him touch you. You have that feeling again, like maybe you’d done something wrong, maybe you were proving again that you were too slow to love and so that was grounds for him to decide you’re not worth it.

You touched him, made him come with your hand, praised him for giving that to you when you could not give him yourself in return.

That had been easy in the moment.

Now, it just feels wrong again. You should have given more, given him your body.

But. . . it’s just the past snapping at your heels again, old worries with a new person. A different person, who doesn’t think those things. You trust Joel, in so many ways. You trust him with this too, that he wouldn’t take what you weren’t yet willing to give.

That slows the spiral, just a little, and so does his hand against your back, his lips against the column of your neck. “G’mornin’,” he grumbles, the sound of his voice deep down in the well of his chest.

“Hi.”

“You upset with me? Looks like you’re thinkin’ pretty hard. I’m. . .I should have—”

And, typical, Joel is thinking the opposite.

“No,” you say and twist to face him, pushing him back down with a palm against his chest, sitting cross legged beside him. “No. I was thinking you might. . .just the same shit as always. I’m hard work and I’m taking too long for you.”

He watches you, one big hand cupped around the back of your knee. “You know that ain’t it,” he says, so steady and steadfast.

“I was trying to remember that,” you admit.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Good. But I’ll tell ya. It ain’t that.” His thumb arcs over your skin, the knob of bone in your shin, careful and slow. “It’s not that.”

You smile and lie back down with him, fingers against the edge of his jaw. “That’s not it either. What you’re thinking.”

“Okay.” He tucks an arm around your back, hand flat between your shoulder blades. “Should have at least asked a second time before fallin’ asleep on ya.”

“No,” you say. “You were perfect for me.”

You swear you can feel the heat of his flush against your skin.

Even though you have a long drive ahead, the bed is warm and the air is so cold, so you stay wrapped up there between the duvet and Joel’s arms, careful as he always is with you, waiting until you absolutely have to get up.

The knot of want in your belly hasn’t loosened, but something is satiated all the same. You have something real now, an image of Joel’s cock in your hand, the straining pulse of his throat, the sounds he made. You have that, for those nights you let yourself think about something more. You gave him something, instead of the other way around, something you wouldn’t have been able to months or weeks before.

The scruff of his beard is soft beneath your fingertips, his eyes shut now as you stroke his skin, those little lines beside his eyes, the scar on the bridge of his nose. “When I’m ready,” you say, not looking away when he opens his eyes, even though you want to. “I think I’ll probably let you do anything you want to me.”

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Note

I’m feral and need more of your a/b/o thoughts. Like I need to know your thoughts on alpha!141 snatching omega reader to keep for themselves

yknow i was gonna say that i haven't touched abo in forever, but then i remembered the gaz thing i just posted the other day lmao

(btw i wrote alpha 141 here but i think abo poly 141 would have alphas price/ghost and betas soap/gaz. probably. maybe. idfk.)

cw for noncon and kidnapping below the cut

i find poly 141 x reader really difficult to write outside of porn, since there's already so many interesting dynamics in regular poly 141. i have a hard time adding in a FIFTH element, yk? especially when that fifth element has to be a reader insert instead of some sorta OC or smth

anyway, i think the best dark poly 141 x reader idea is basically reader being used as a sex toy for the guys. like, she's there for them to relieve their stress in. but in an abo au i could totally see them using her as an element of softness in their lives. with 4 alphas in one home, you need an omega to soften things up a bit

and there you are. soft and sweet and small (compared to them at least) and just so perfect. you're the unlucky bastard who happens to smell appealing to all of them, and you're whisked away before you really even know it

they'd have to be sneaky, probably. you'd have a positive reaction to their scents too, so maybe johnny or gaz gets you to go on a date with one or both of them and then kidnaps you. maybe price or ghost just grabs you one day. something like that, i think, but there's much higher angst potential is kyle and/or johnny lulls you into a false sense of security first (and you know i love a good betrayal)

they'd push and prod at your instincts to force you into a heat before anything else. lock you in their den (soon to be their nest) and surround you in their scents, make low purrs to convince your instincts that you're safe

and as terrified as you are - and oh boy, are you - there's only so much you can actually fight your instincts. lets say you're either not on heat blockers, or maybe the blockers are weak, but for whatever reason you're very susceptible to all of their little pushes

they've got you knotted and mated by the end of the week

it's odd, coming up from that heat. your neck aches all the way around, to the point that it's painful to even turn your head. despite the unfamiliar room, your brain screams at you that you're safe, that you're in your nest.

it doesn't take long to put together the pieces. it also doesn't take long to become very very upset

thing is, it's too late to do anything now. you can't break a bond, and they're not giving you any opportunities to get away. you're stuck with these alphas who have performed the greatest invasion possible on your body and soul. it's crushing

cue lots of attempted comfort. soap and gaz would be the softest with you, always trying to tempt you into realizing how good it is to be with them. soap is rougher when he fucks you, but they're both equally soft outside of that. they bring you nesting materials, constantly make sure you're covered in their scents, and bicker over who gets to cuddle you on the couch

ghost isn't willing to coddle you. he's sweet (in his own right) but he's not nice. he doesn't try to make you feel better - you're meant to be with them, why should he apologize for making it happen? all they did was skip the courting process, this is always where you were going to end up. he refuses to apologize for that. but he also doesn't want you miserable. he holds you close at night, soaks with you for long hours in the tub, and is always making sure you clear your plate

price is... weird. i'm never sure if i should make him the meanest or a softer kidnapper. because i could absolutely see a version of price whipping your ass raw every time you scream at them and call them names, but i can also see a version of price who just levels you with a disapproving stare and locks you in a small dark space when you get like that

regardless, they all smother you. you help balance out their dynamics a bit more, but they're always fighting each other for your attention. especially with the bond making it so they always know what you're feeling. and your instincts scream to trust them (and you can feel their emotions too, know that they really meant for the best, as sick and twisted as it is).

#abo au #poly 141 x reader #bo writes #asks and answers

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borathae · 6 months

Text

"If there is one thing you love to do, it is to pamper your boyfriend. So when Yoongi has been feeling especially stressed lately, you decide that it is time to treat him like the precious prince he is."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, polyamory!AU, domestic Fluff, Smut

Warnings: a stressed!Yoongi, she pampers him, casual nudity, this story consists of two parts: one fluffy and one smutty, the next warnings are for the smutty part, morning cuddles which lead to sex, sleepy & subby!Yoongi, service Dom!Reader, handjob in spooning position, little spoon!Yoongi heheh, neck kisses, gentle choking, praise, loving dirty talk, nipple play, blowjob, cum licking, overstimulation, a lil bit of gentle CBT, he is a painslut so he loves it, multiple orgasms for him, hand holding, he is sensitive & loves being touched <3

Wordcount: 10.4K

a/n: istfg i love men jfasjdfja okay that is a lie, i love men like mv!boongie <3 my precious prince <3 also lmao if someone tries to look up the definition of oral fixation, my name would show up ajdjfa like. can i write something other than oral sex? i don't fucking think so ahahah i'm telling you this stems from my childhood addiction of sucking my own thumb every chance i got until i was thirteen ahaha that shit shaped my frontal cortex or whatever part of the brain is in charge of kink development jsjdf

You like trying out new things. Especially when those new things involve surprising your amazing, wonderful, lovely boyfriend Yoongi.

Today, you left a little something in his wing to find. A letter, telling him of how much you wanted to be with him tonight including a very detailed description of your plans and your location shall he want the same.

Yoongi should be out for most of the day, training with Jungkook and later meeting up with some of his creations in town to go over future plans of strengthening the vampire community. With Namjoon’s followers mostly gone and their Creator hidden from the world, the community has been brittle. Attacks on peaceful vampire communities by hostile werewolves or witches became way too common in cities where peace was already brittle to begin with. Yoongi and his followers are currently creating strategies which will ensure the peace without cities breaking into a full supernatural civil war. Which means that he is a very busy man lately, coming home later than usual and with little energy left to cook. He feels really bad about it, even if you keep ensuring him that it was never his responsibility to feed you and that you can cook for yourself while he relaxed.

It worked for a little while until he began stressing out over not being able to cook on top of all the other stress he is currently experiencing. Truly, if he didn’t posses supernatural healing you are sure that he would have already greyed by now from all the stressing he has been doing these past few weeks.

But you want to change that tonight. You want him to feel so relaxed that stress ceases to be part of his vocabulary.

By now, it’s already way past eight. Yoongi should have been home for at least thirty minutes. You want to check on him, but are scared to ruin the letter surprise this way. So you take out your phone and text Jungkook instead.

He answers you ten minutes later.

- Baby ♡: I don’t know if he’s home yet. I’ve been home since six ♡♡♡

- Baby ♡: I’m sorry baby ♡♡♡

- You: It’s fine. Don’t worry about it ♡♡♡

- Baby ♡: Are you scared that something happened? ♡♡♡

- You: No, but I have a surprise for him ♡♡♡

- Baby ♡: ooooooh *o* a surprise *O*

- You: yeah… :D I wrote him a letter telling him to come to my wing if he wanted to have a spa day ♡♡♡

- Baby ♡: wowie *^* spa days are so nice ♡♡♡ I’m sure he’ll be home soon heh ♡♡♡

- You: yeah probably ♡♡♡

- Baby ♡: hehe ♡♡♡♡

You send him one more round of hearts and then place the phone aside, turning your attention back to the task at hand. The surprise has been prepared, which means that you have free time and what better way to use said free time than to do some gardening in the greenhouse.

Only easy tasks like pruning the roses and picking off dead leaves from your wisteria. You don’t want to get too dirty in case Yoongi comes home.

The man of the hour comes home only a few moments after you texted Jungkook. You are currently in the back of the greenhouse, looking at the perfectly pruned roses when he calls out for you.

“___?”

Your heart flutters. He is here. Hopefully he read the letter first before coming here. It would make the surprise all the more exciting.

“My love, are you here?”

“I’m coming!”

You meet him in the middle. Right where you shared so many breakfasts together.

Like always lately, the heaviness of a long and stressful day drags down his shoulders. It is so obvious to you these days, now that you know him so well.

“Hello there, my prince”, you greet him, opening your arms.

“Hey”, he says, falling into the hug gladly. He even buries his face in the crook of your neck and releases a loud sigh. It was the kind of sigh which sheds the heart of sorrow.

“Did you have a good day?”

“No.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry. Lots of stress?”

“Yeah”, he murmurs into you, tickling your skin with the timbre of his voice, “did you eat already?”

“I did. Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t cook. I promise I’ll make time on the weekend. I just have so much to do and I just”, he stops talking to sigh instead, pressing himself closer to you, “I’m tired”, he confesses in a whisper.

“Don’t worry about it, my love. I don’t want you to think that feeding me is your job. I can cook for myself, okay?”

“I guess.”

“Well, I can”, you assure him and squeeze him gently, “did you get my letter?"

“Letter?”

“Yes, I left it on your bed.”

“No, I wasn’t in my wing yet. I came straight to you.”

“Oh okay. Mhm sad, I wanted to surprise you.”

“I can go right now. I’m sorry, I have so much to do. I didn’t have time yet and I-”

“Hush, it’s okay”, you stop him, massaging his scalp gently.

Yoongi lets out a sound of defeat and murmurs into your neck, “I’m gonna cry. I don’t know for how long I can still do this.”

“Oh Yoongi, I’m sorry you feel this way”, you say and give him a squeeze, “do you have to work again tomorrow?”

“No, they’ll be gone till next week. But I have to do so much work at home. There’s so much shit to go through and, and people to call and I don’t wanna.”

“Okay, I see. At least you can plan your time how you want to tomorrow. Yeah?”

��I guess.”

He doesn’t sound convinced, which you can’t blame him for.

“I prepared a few things for you if you want to. I promise it will relax you.”

“What do you mean?” he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes, “why did you prepare something?”

“Because you’re stressed and I wanna spoil you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? Because I want to and you deserve it.”

“Okay?”

“Mh-hm, now come along. I’ll give you the best spa night ever.”

“Really?” he gets out, stumbling after you.

“Yes, really.”

“But why me?”

“Because you’re my love.”

“Oh.”

You lead him to your bathroom. You talk as you walk.

“It would make a lot more sense if you read my letter. I was being really cheesy in it and talked all about how I’ll make you feel like a king.”

“Oh. Okay”, he is shy. You know that he is.

“Yeah and then I told you to come find me in my wing. Which is why I asked you if you read my letter.”

“Sorry. I wanted to see you first."

“That’s okay. I should have figured. I’m just glad that you’re home safe”, you tell him and turn. You have reached your closed bathroom door, “close your eyes.”

“Okay?” Yoongi says and follows.

“Don’t peek.”

“I won’t.”

You open the door and take both his hands afterwards. You guide him into the room. Yoongi sniffles instantly.

“It smells good.”

“Don’t look yet. Okay?”

“I’m not. I’m just saying.”

You place him just a little away from the door so you could close it. Then you snap your fingers, lighting the dozens and dozens of candles in the room. Being a witch fucking rocks. You don’t even have to work for romantic lighting, you just have to snap your fingers. With a another snap of your fingers the record player starts playing Yoongi’s favourite album for relaxation. His lips curls into a smile.

“I know that song”, he says with happiness in his voice.

“Yeah, definitely. Don’t peek.”

“For how long? What are you doing?”

“Soon.”

“You’re making it so suspenseful.”

One last snap of your fingers to turn off the main lights.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

Yoongi follows, looking around the warmly lit room. You filled the bathtub with water and rose petals, mixing in your most relaxing bathing oils. On the side table, a glass of his favourite whiskey cocktail is waiting and you prepared his most comfortable pyjamas to wear. You also created a big bouquet of flowers, which he knows for a fact you will want him to keep in his wing. You love getting him flowers and he loves receiving them even he gets incredibly shy because of it.

“Princess”, he gets out, looking at you with sparkly eyes. They look so close to tearing up.

“Surprise”, you say, stretching your arms above your head, “it was pretty obvious what I’ll do in the bathroom, but surprise.”

Yoongi looks away and at the room again, touching his own tummy as he does. His eyes sparkle in the candlelight.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. Thank you so much”, he says and nods his head.

You close the distance and hug him. Yoongi hugs you back instantly, hiding his face in your neck like always.

“I’m happy that you love it. I have a lot more prepared. So I hope that you’re ready.”

“I am”, he mumbles, “thank you so much.”

“Hm”, you hum and pat his butt, “you have to get naked for the bath.”

“I know. Can I do it alone?”

“Of course. I’ll be by the sink preparing the facial.”

“What did you prepare?”

“Just something nice. I looked up a tutorial. Trust me, I’m a professional skincarer now.”

“Skincarer isn’t even an actual word”, Yoongi says in a laugh as he is slowly getting naked.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll give you the best facial ever.”

“You’re aware of how that sounds, right?”

“Oh, I know. If you had read my letter, you would know that I have prepared a spicy section too if you are still awake after my super duper king spa treatment special.”

Yoongi chuckles, “okay, I’ll try to stay awake.”

“No pressure though. Tonight’s about you. I can do it tomorrow too or whenever you’re in the mood.”

“Okay. Ah shit.”

You turn, “what happened?”

He is by the bath, buttnaked and with his toe wet.

“The water’s cold”, he says.

“I know. I didn’t know when you’d be back, so I filled it with cold water. Don’t worry, I’ll warm it up”, you say and hurry to him. You stick your right hand into the water and mumble the magical words. Your eyes glow golden for just a moment before your hand gets a fiery shine to it. The water warms up slowly and you only stop once it is giving of a gentle steam.

“Test it now”, you tell him.

Yoongi lifts his foot and lowers it into the water, “good”, he says and steps inside the bathtub. He lowers himself, pushing the water aside. It reaches him just a little over his nipples once he is submerged entirely.

“There we go. Are you comfy?” you ask him.

He is looking up at you with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms hugging them, “can I have it a little warmer, please?” he asks shyly.

“Of course”, you say, sticking your hand back into the water, “I’ll go slow, so tell me once it’s good for you.”

“Okay.”

Your eyes glow, your hand shines and soon the water begins warming up more and more. The relaxing oils activate with the magical heat, tainting the water milky and filling Yoongi’s nose with a wonderful smell. He feels droopy and oh so relaxed because of it. Yoongi lets you warm the water for a few moments, staring at your face with a fluttering tummy. He is so, so happy about the surprise and he loves it so much. Even if he is too tired to show his true excitement, he is bursting in it. Truly, he feels so lucky to be with you.

“Okay, stop”, he says.

“Got it.”

You stand up and dry your hand on the towel you laid out for Yoongi. Then you hurry to the back of him, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Lean back.”

He does so without resistance, letting out a surprised gasp when his head sinks into a soft cushion. The water reaches him a little under his neck now.

“Huh?” he sneaks a glance at the pillow..

“Is it comfy?”

“Yeah, really. Where did you get that?”

“Internet. I purchased it a few weeks ago, but never got to using it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah”, he says and relaxes his entire body. He even stretches out his legs and closes his eyes, “thank you for this”, he whispers.

“Don’t thank me too soon. Are you ready for your super duper king special treatment facial?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice, just tell me if you need anything else. Your favourite cocktail’s on the table.”

“Yeah, thank you”, he says and reaches for it. He spills some water on the ground, but that doesn’t matter right now. He drinks his cocktail while you gather the skincare products. “it tastes good”, he tells you.

“Yeah? That’s good to hear.”

Yoongi places it aside and submerges his arm back in the warm water. Then he lets his head fall into the cushion, looking up at you that way. You place your hand on his forehead so you could brush his hair out of his face. You secure a headband around his head, making sure to reveal his entire forehead to you. His eyes fall closed instantly, his lips part as a relaxed sigh leaves him.

“I’ll get started now, yeah?”

“Just do whatever, as long as I don’t gotta talk.”

“Don’t worry, no more talking”, you assure him and smooch his forehead, “relax my love, I’m getting started.”

You start off the treatment by cleaning off the day with a gentle oil cleanser.

“Are you putting oil on my face?” he asks, trying to move away at the unfamiliar feeling, but you stop him with a firm hand on his forehead.

“Yes, it’s called double cleansing. Trust me.”

“Okay?”

“Trust me.”

“I am, just feels weird”, he mumbles as he relaxes again.

“It’ll help.”

Once you washed off the oil, you use a soft smelling foam cleanser. Yoongi sniffles vividly as you spread it on his face, voicing his liking for it with a low hum. You wipe the foam away with a warm towel, making sure to be extra careful around the eyes.

Once he is clean and patted dry, you begin with the true treatment. You spread a soothing toner with a cotton pad on his face and follow it up with a serum. You know that physically it is impossible for his skin to show signs of exhaustion, age or stress. Hell, he can’t even get impurities because his healing powers prevent him from getting them. But you still believe that a good calming serum will do his skin good. Even if it’s just to help relax his mind.

After the serum, a sheet mask follows.

“Ah, hey”, he gasps and opens his eyes, “that’s wet”, he complains, trying to move away again.

“It’s a sheet mask. Close your eyes and stop moving.”

“Does all of that even do anything?”

“Yes, it’ll relax you and make your face glow. Close your eyes.”

Yoongi follows, even if hesitant at first, but begins to relax again when you run your fingers over his face in order to smooth out the mask. It tingles so nicely.

“Okay, that’ll have to stay on your face for twenty minutes. Do you want a head massage in the mean-”

“Yes”, Yoongi interrupts you.

You chuckle, “I take this as a clear yes”, you say and wash your fingers in the bath water. You dry them on the towel and then return to your spot behind him.

You start off by opening the headband and keeping his hair off his forehead with a warm hand on his head.

“I watched a lot of tutorials on head massages, so get ready for the best massage ever.”

“Mhm.”

And so they begin. The most amazing and wonderful and perfect twenty minutes of Yoongi’s life. You weren’t lying when you told him that he will experience the best head massage ever, because he does. He really, really does. You not only pay attention to his entire scalp, you also make sure to massage his tense jaw muscles behind his ear and to loosen the knots in his tight neck muscles. By the time those twenty minutes are over, Yoongi hasn’t closed his mouth in ten minutes and he doesn’t even know that his mouth is open. He is entirely and completely relaxed.

You take off his mask without talking, placing it on the table for now. You waste no time, using the excess serum to massage his face as well. Starting off at his forehead and brows, you guide your skilled finger along his temples, massage his jaw muscles and tense tongue muscle along his throat and you make sure to target every single inch of his face. You even incorporate a gentle massage on the more tender spots, meant to soothe and not to relax tensions, and Yoongi is in heaven. He really is. This is more than heaven. This is his personal paradise, the reason why he exists. It feels so good. His body can’t stop tingling and he swears that he actually feels as if he is floating. He was so stressed, but he isn’t anymore. It soothes him so much to be so pampered.

Once the serum has been massaged into his skin thoroughly, you begin putting on moisturiser, giving him a softer massage in order not to stress out his skin barrier. You go especially gently on his eyelids, kissing each of them after you finished spreading the cream.

Once his face glows from being pampered, you spread a thin layer of scalp serum on your palms for one last round of a deep and relaxing scalp massage.

By now, Yoongi is sleeping. There is no sugar coating the truth. Your once stressed boyfriend is slumbering peacefully with his lips apart and his face entirely slack in relaxation. He looks so adorable like this.

You give his shoulders a thorough massage as well, ending it off by caressing his chest and then your massage is officially finished. Face glowing, scalp nourished and muscles relaxed he is sleeping in the bathtub while you gaze at him with fond eyes.

That’s what you wanted to happen. He finally looks relaxed.

You play with the thought of waking him for a moment. You really have to, don’t you?

You decide to clean up first. He should sleep as much as he can before you have to cruelly wake him again. You turn off the record player and even take a quick shower so you can change into your pyjamas. Afterwards you do your own skincare and brush your teeth. Yoongi is sleeping through all of it.

Only then – and once you extinguished the candles – you return to him, cupping his cheeks to shake him awake.

“My love”, you whisper with a heavy heart, “my love, wake up.”

Yoongi begins responding after a few moments. First he huffs out air, then he whines and shakes his head until he finally opens his eyes.

He looks just slightly mad to be woken like this, but most of all, way too sleepy for his own good.

“I know. I’m sorry for waking you, but I need to get you outta the water and into your pjs”, you whisper.

Yoongi makes a small sound and moves. It looks and feels robotic. You know that he is barely conscious and only really does what his muscles remember to do.

He gets out of the bath with your help and plops down on the edge of the tub. You open the drain and just about manage to wrap the towel around him because then he is already falling against you, barely awake and so terribly sleepy.

“-eepy”, he mumbles quietly, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder.

“Almost done, my love. We just gotta get you dry and into your pjs, yeah? Can you work with me? Please?”

Yoongi nods his head and somehow manages to get up and follow you to the pyjamas. He manages to put them on, even if his eyes were closed through the entirety of it. And then he stumbles into the bedroom with your hand tightly in his’ and his trust fully put into you. He doesn’t open his eyes even once, only when you tell him to get into bed.

He sinks into the pillow, letting out a sleepy sound of relaxation.

You tug him in and get under your blanket.

“Is nice”, he mumbles, reaching for you.

“Mhm, that’s good to hear”, you say before giving him a kiss on his temple. Afterwards, you roll over to turn off the bedside lamp. Now hued into darkness, you return to him and place your hand on his cheek to caress it softly, “sleep tight, my love”, you whisper and the last thing Yoongi does before he truly falls back to sleep is seek you out for nightly cuddles.

And if one thought that this warm, little snippet of your wonderful life together was over, one was mistaken. As the next part of this warm, little snippet is entirely dedicated to how you woke up with Yoongi as your little spoon the next day and how you made good of the promise you gave him last night. Shall one wish to live in negligence, one can stop reading now. However, shall one find themselves with a certain desire for Yoongi’s blissful morning hours, one shall continue to indulge in this warm, little snippet a little longer. Whatever path one might choose, one shall always know that Yoongi is truly and soul-consumingly happy ever since he is yours and he will continue to be truly and soul-consumingly happy for as long as he is by your side.

Although you fell asleep later than Yoongi, you wake first. You don’t feel tired, as a matter of fact, you feel so well rested that you could definitely start off your day by running around. You know that it is because Yoongi radiated so much tranquillity throughout the night, which in return helped you rest as well.

Smiling because you are so happy that last night’s plan worked, you pull him tighter against your chest and drape your leg over his hips. Now he can’t escape and you can get lost in the amazing feeling of holding him. He fits so perfectly into your arms and he is so warm and smells heavenly too. You nuzzle your nose deep into his hair and kiss the nape of his neck this way.

Yoongi cut his hair again. Not as short as he had it when you first met him, but it had grown to a length where he disliked it. So he cut it again and thinned it out at the back. Not that thinning out did a lot for him. He has the thickest hair even. Even all the thinning left behind enough to grab and hold and play with him. And also enough to get lost in. He seriously smells so, so good.

You hug him tighter and inhale deeply, waking him with it. He makes himself known by letting out a deep and quiet hum.

“Mhm, morning”, you answer him, rubbing his tummy.

“Mhm”, Yoongi purrs.

Nothing more is exchanged between the two of you. You continue to smell his soft hair and kiss whatever part of his head you can reach, while Yoongi travels between the world of the awake and the dreaming. He ends up staying in his dream world. You prop yourself up on your elbow and glance at his face. You have to remove your leg from his hip, but you don’t mind because you can feel his butt against your crotch this way. His head rests on your lower arm and his hand is mere inches away from holding your wrist. His fingers twitch as he very obviously dreams and it makes you wonder if he is currently dreaming about holding your hand. It would be so cute if he did.

You move the arm you have draped around him so you could touch his hand. His fingers, knuckles and veins. He has the most beautiful hands. You caress his wrist for a little and then move to trace his face, using the back of your hand for it. His cheeks are so soft, his skin feels so healthy. You also think that it is glowing especially prettily this morning and you know for a fact that it is because of last night’s spa treatment.

You were so happy last night because he took the surprise with so much enthusiasm. Truly, you have the best boyfriend ever.

You lean down and kiss his cheek.

“Mhm”, Yoongi wakes because of it, sounding a lot more energized than last time. Forty minutes had passed since then. Yoongi chases your kiss by moving his head so he could look at you, “morn’in.”

“Good morning”, you tell him and kiss his lips.

He kisses you back, which means that he was actually awake this time around. He smiles sleepily as you break the kiss and rolls his head back into a more comfortable position. You rest back into the pillow, snuggling into him happily.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, really well”, he says, “you?”

“I did, yeah. You felt so calm in my arms tonight, so I feel really refreshed.”

“I slept so well”, he says. His voice is deep and raspy from sleep. “I haven’t slept that well in ages. I kept dreaming about all the stuff I gotta do, but tonight I didn’t dream of anything.”

“Yes? That’s so good to hear. You deserved it, my love.”

“Mhm”, he hums and wiggles his butt so he was closer to you, “thank you for last night.”

You smile and kiss the nape of his neck. His hair feels so soft there. You love the feeling of it against your lips. Yes, you are obsessed enough with him to love having hair on your lips. Oh truly, this man consumes your every fiber.

“I didn’t know I needed it, but I really did. Thank you.”

“I’m just happy that I could help you relax, my love.”

“You did. I was so relaxed and it felt so good. I never experienced something like this before and I loved it so much.”

“Last night was your first time?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh Yoongi, you shouldn’t have told me that. Now I gotta start planning monthly super duper special king treatment spa days to make up for all the lost times.”

He chuckles sleepily, “I won’t stop you.”

“Okay, good”, you say and snicker, “just you wait, I’ll be the best skincarer ever.”

“This is so stupid”, he says in a laugh. The kind of laugh which shakes his shoulders and sounds like little squeaks for air. You love this kind of laugh.

It always makes you laugh and smile with him. You end up smooching his neck as well, doing so happily.

“You gotta admit, it has a ring to it.”

“Yeah, I guess”, he says and ends his giggles with a content sigh. He reaches for your hand and grabs it tightly to guide it to his lips. They feel soft as he kisses your knuckles. Once. Twice. Three and four times. Then a stub with his button nose, “thank you so much for this”, he says.

“Yoongi…”

“I know I didn’t show it last night, but I was really moved by it and I was happy. Yeah. I was really happy. I’m sorry for sucking so much at showing it.”

“Don’t apologise, my love. I knew that you loved it.”

“Good, that’s good. My love”, he says and pulls your arm tighter around him.

You nuzzle into him, tightening your arm around him.

“You’re so warm”, he sighs dreamily.

“And you’re soft”, you tell him, slipping your hand to his tummy to rub it softly. He loves tummy rubs. Only a few seconds of them and he vibrates in soft purrs.

Today is no different. Rhythmic and terribly sleepy, he fills the silence with his happy purrs. You love that this is just part of him. It’s so relaxing to hear him purr.

Only a few minutes later and he takes your hand to stick it under his shirt. You glance at him, he meets your eyes shyly.

“I like that”, he whispers, “don’t judge me.”

“I’m not”, you assure him, nuzzling your cheek against him, “I like it too”, you tell him and begin to caress his tummy.

It’s so incredibly soft. Not only because his skin is silken and perfect, but also because he has just enough tummy that he is soft. He is just grab-able enough that you can squish him. You like that because of how perfect he is to pet that way. And Yoongi likes it because he has the most sensitive tummy and when you rub it, he feels at peace.

This morning however, he also can’t deny the other effects your loving touch has on him. He was way too exhausted to think about sex last night, but he feels rested today. Which means that your touches leave behind just a small tingle of desire in his tummy. Paired with your neck kisses and the incredible softness of your body behind him and Yoongi can’t deny it anymore. This is making him needy.

The concept of being needy was entirely foreign and rather undesirable for Yoongi before he met you, but with you he really enjoys that feeling. Except for the aching boners he gets as a side effect. He doesn’t like them. Not at all.

He tries to ignore it at first. You aren’t making any moves and the current situation is so comfy that he doesn’t want to ruin it by asking for more. But then you begin slipping your fingers under the waistband of his pants every so often and Yoongi is spiralling.

He is aware that you are only doing it because his lower tummy is the softest and you enjoy the feeling of his happy trail under your fingertips. But it’s getting so unbearable to stay calm. You are so close to where he aches and yet you feel too far away.

You are in the midst of running your hand up his tummy when he snaps. He grabs it, making you gasp in surprise because of how passionately he made contact.

You lift your head from his neck, studying his face.

Yoongi acts fast. In one swift movement he has your hand tugged to his cock. He presses you close, making you feel every single inch of his hard length.

“Please”, he gets out in a whisper, grinding his hips into your hand.

“Oh my god, Yoongi. Did this make you hard?” you gasp.

He glances at you, meeting your amused yet very excited expression.

He nods his head and squeezes his cock with your hand in between.

“Please.”

“What do you need?” you ask, knowing very well what he needs.

“Your hand.”

“You’re holding my hand.”

“No”, he is pouting. It makes you smile, because it’s adorable, “I want it there”, he says and rubs his cock against your palm, “like this”, he says breathily, “touching me”, he sighs even breathier and with his fingers squeezing your hand.

Your stomach clenches in arousal. He is so sexy when he is like this. Especially when he explicitly asks to be touched.

“Mhm Yoongi, you’re so hot like this”, you purr and give his cock a gentle squeeze.

He lets out a quiet sigh, rolling his hips into your hand.

“Do you want it like this?”

“Wanna take off my pants.”

“Okay, do it”, you say, giving him space.

He manages to take them off until they sit around one of his ankles and then he gives up. That’s good enough. He needs to be with you again, feel your warmth and experience your touch. You fucking made him obsessed with it and now he can’t get enough of it.

He returns to the previous position, wiggling his butt against you and giving you a boyish look over his shoulder. It makes you giggle and hug him tight.

“Comfy?” you ask after smooching his cheek.

“Yeah, comfy”, he says and looks at your lips, “kiss me.”

He barely manages to finish his request and then he is already gasping as you use a bundle of his hair to tilt his head into a kiss. It is rough and passionate. Yoongi didn’t expect it, which results in his head to get dizzy with the first contact. His tummy also did a really, really intense clench. It was the most amazing feeling ever, even if it resulted in his cock to grow even harder.

You moan into the hot kiss, feeling entirely consumed by him. His exposed butt is pressing into your crotch, his naked legs rub against yours and his hard cock begs for attention. He is so close to you. So utterly and entirely engrossed in your presence and now you can feel him up with all the time in the world. Oh, you are so desperate for him.

It gets too much. You can’t control yourself anymore. Without warning, you take his cock between your fingers and pick up an almost punishing speed.

Yoongi reacts accordingly. He breaks the kiss to squeak in surprise. His body flinches and his legs press together.

“Wait”, he gets out, looking up at you with widened eyes and his lips parting in a gasp.

“You’re so hard, holy fuck”, you whisper seductively as your hand pumps his heavy cock. Fast. Rough. With the intent to make him shake.

“It’s t-too much”, he gets out and gasps, arching his back which results in your contact to break.

Not with you. You pull him back against your chest, sliding your hand to his throat afterwards. Like this, his head is on your upper arm while his throat gains a new necklace in the shape of your hand.

You press your lips to his ear, keeping your voice in this one specific register which will always make him weak.

“Is this too much, mhm? Should I slow down?” you ask as your hand around his cock punishes him quickly. He needs no punishment and yet you can’t stop. He is so fucking perfect when he writhes in forced stimulation.

“Slow, yeah, slow please”, Yoongi begs.

“Okay. I’ll slow down. Like this?” you ask and stop your movements so you could massage him instead. You keep your hand around his tip, massaging him in smooth pulses and gentle squeezes.

Yoongi presses back against you, tilting his head to reveal more of his neck. You squeeze down on his veins, watching hungrily as he rolls his eyes back in bliss. They flutter closed a second later.

“Yes”, he sighs, following it up with a quiet, “holy shit ___, that feels so good.”

“Yeah, you just keep sighing my name. Your voice sounds so pretty when you do.”

“___”, Yoongi sighs, placing his hands on your lower arm to squeeze. His fingers are just a little clammy, his touch is filled with no strength. He wants to simply feel you, make sure that you are real and that he is actually experiencing the pleasure you make him feel.

“That’s it. Keep moaning my name”, you encourage him, moving his head with your hand on his throat. Like this, you can kiss his cheek. It makes you so happy because you can feel how Yoongi actively chases your kisses by tilting his head closer.

“___, ah.”

“My handsome love”, you whisper, “my pretty prince.”

Yoongi likes the praise so much that he moans your name again. Quietly. Like a breathy whisper. He is so far gone in this warm bubble of pleasure, comfort and safety that he can’t do much more than whisper. This is the best morning ever. He is so safe, so warm and so well-touched. Yoongi presses himself closer against you and sighs your name.

You abandon his tip for just a moment because you want to feel him up entirely. You go slow, pressing his cock against his tummy to run your hand up and down the underside of it. His skin is so soft, while his cock is so hard. The contrast of it feeds your obsession for him inch by fucking inch. With every second you touch him, the feelings you have for him get easier to bear. Not much, but at least you don’t feel like suffocating anymore.

Yoongi runs his hands up and down your lower arm, following it with his head turning as he tries to kiss you. His lips are parted, giving you a little sigh.

“Feels good?” you whisper.

“Yeah, feels…good…ah kiss me, p-please.”

“My beautiful Yoongi”, you whisper and kiss him, swallowing the happy sound he makes. He doesn’t really know how to kiss you at first. As if he forgot everything he ever learned because you are touching him so good that his brain turned into mush. You know that this is what is happening right now.

It’s not often that Yoongi asks to be touched. So whenever he does, it means that he wants to be turned into a dumb, pleasure-drunk mess. No wonder he kisses messily at first, you’ve got him ruined. You slide your hand from his throat to rub his chest instead. It rumbles in deep purrs of enjoyment and his lips soon after find your rhythm. Slow, loving tongue kisses. The kind which leaves both of you so, so lightheaded.

Somewhere in the maze of loving kisses, you allow your hand to change course. You wrap your fingers around his length again and pick up a steady pace, jerking him off with the help of all the excitement he leaks. Of course he’s wet. Yoongi’s so easy to pleasure once he trusts you. He gets wet so easily.

The kiss breaks because Yoongi needed to gasp. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze. It is hazy, blurry and filled with devoted submission. He can’t stop staring, even when so close to your face. His eyes keep switching between your left eye down to your lips and up to your right eye before repeating the route again and again and again. He is so obviously in love, which makes you want to never look away.

You haven’t noticed it yet, but you are mimicking his feelings. Your eyes can’t stop racing between his eyes and his lips and if it was physically possible, Yoongi is sure that your pupils would have turned into little hearts by now.

“Closer please”, he whispers and you hug him against you, placing your hand on his waist to keep him close. Yoongi has to moan at the contact, fluttering his eyelids for just a second before he begins drawing little triangles on your face again.

You are enjoying this moment with intense pleasure bubbling in your tummy. Truly, you don’t even need to be touched to feel satisfied. This is making you feel so fulfilled. And it is filling you with this warm desire to make him feel in paradise. You pick up your pace, watching in delight how Yoongi reacts.

He closes his eyes and scrunches his nose up, letting a quiet, “fuck” slip from his lips.

“Yoongi”, you press out, hugging him tighter. You lower your lips to his face, spreading soft kisses on every inch you can reach.

“I can’t hold it for much longer”, he confesses, pressing back into you to get as close as possible. Truly one may think that it wouldn’t be possible to be closer, but somehow Yoongi manages to merge even deeper with you. Warm back against warm chest, his hands holding your arm while you hold him and with your legs tangled into a mess which makes sense to you and him. You are so close in fact that you can actually feel how his body prepares for his high. He is tensing his muscles more and more and gains so much more warmth to his body.

“Did, did you hear me?” he tries with his voice just slightly higher than usual. Not much, but it is clear that he is struggling. He is breathing so heavily and his butt keeps rubbing against you as he squirms.

“I heard you”, you assure him, kissing his cheek, “does it feel good for you or should I change something?”

“More on the tip, please.”

“Okay. Like this?” you say, massaging his velvety cockhead.

“Yeah….” he gets out and rolls his head away to bury it in the pillow, “ah”, his voice is muffled by it, “ah god, ah.”

It goes on for about five strokes and then Yoongi gasps and turns his head again, looking up at you with so obviously faded eyes. He is so far gone.

“Soon.”

“I know, you’re doing so well”, you praise him, caressing the side of his ribs slowly.

“Tell me that you….ahmhm”, he gulps and tries to continue talking, doing so with his eyes glued to your lips, “that you love, ah, love me.”

Your heart flutters.

“I love you, Min Yoongi.”

“I love you too”, he chokes out and scrunches his face up as his high hits him. This is all it took. To watch your lips form his favourite words paired with your closeness and skilled touch, is all it took. He reaches up and pulls you close with his trembling hands gripping whatever part of your head they could reach. Your nose collides with his cheek and soon you feel his lips attempting to kiss, but failing miserably. You’ve got him climaxing so hard that it is impossible for him to do much more than keen quietly and fight for air.

“Good boy, you’re doing so well”, you talk him through it with loving whispers and little pecks on his pouty lips. And Yoongi swears his entire world lights up because of it.

He comes down way too soon for your taste, now merely shivering in your arms while his cock softens in your hand rapidly fast.

“Princess”, he gets out, hooking his arms behind your head to pull you into a kiss. It is sloppy and filled with gratitude. You love it so much, but you want so much more. You break the kiss, making him beg for more. You have to ignore him, even if you want to keep kissing him. He isn’t done yet. One wasn’t enough.

You roll him to his back and claim the emptiness between his legs. They are still wobbly from the intense orgasm you gave him, making it easy for you to pick them up and slide off his pants completely. You throw them to the side and lean down, picking up his softened cock to put him into your mouth.

Yoongi’s hips shoot up, his legs close around you and a surprised mewl rolls off his lips.

“What are you doing?” he keens, placing his hands on your head to tug you away.

You hum around him, licking and sucking off the sweet tasting cum coating his cock. The vibrations feel intense around his length, forcing his hips to lift again.

Oh how heavily he is breathing, how much he squirms.

“Please”, he gets out and mewls, “please, sensitive, please”, he pleads, trying to tug you off of him, which only ends in you taking his hands and pinning them into the sheets besides his hips. You put your weight on them, making it impossible for him to flee (one has to remember that he could easily lift a truck if he wanted to, he could very well flee but he doesn’t want to).

“Please, sensitive. Hurts, please”, he begs, coughing out a squeaky moan as his soft, little dick gets sucked clean by your hungry mouth. He is still so delirious from his first high and being brought over the edge in such an intimate, safe way and now he has you forcing his cock to remember what pleasure feels like. Yoongi was so ready to fall into the afterglow, but you are keeping him burning. It feels hot, fiery and torturous.

“Sensitive”, he gets out, wiggling his hands even if you pin them down with your fingers squeezing around his wrists, “holy shit, why do you wanna torture me?” he keens, kicking the sheets with weak legs.

You are high. You seriously are. This is the best feeling ever and he tastes so good that you wish to taste nothing but him from now on. His soft cock feels so good in your mouth. So fragile and sensitive and made to be ruined by you. He fits so perfectly in your mouth like this. So well in fact that he can fill you out comfortably while your tongue explores the softness of his balls.

“Oh god, please”, he is begging, squirming away and fighting your grip as best as his shaky arms allow him to. And despite all of that, he is starting to grow hard again. Rapidly if one may add. So quickly in fact, that after a few hungry flicks of your tongue against his balls, he is filling out your mouth so well that you can’t reach them anymore. You cup them in your right hand instead, using your left hand to caress his tensing tummy. It is so sticky and wet from his first orgasm. His hands reach for your head instantly, making you chuckle because it was so predictable.

“Nuh-uh”, you hum around his cock, pinning his hands into the sheets. He grabs your hands, squeezes them as tightly as possible and then lets out a high-pitched mewl.

“Please, this is too much”, he gets out, arching his back, “fuck, please.”

You moan around him, grinding your tongue against his cock as you bob your head up and down. He is almost completely hard again. Of course he is, because he loves it. You know your boyfriend. He might whine, but he loves being overstimulated.

You must admit that you never did it with your mouth before, at least not like this, but there is always a first for everything. After all, you love trying out new things with him.

Now swollen and hard in your mouth, it is difficult to fit him down your throat entirely. Especially in this position. You concentrate your attention on his first two inches. They are the most sensitive after all and you love having them in your mouth.

“A-ah”, Yoongi lets out, dropping your hands to instead twist the sheets. His hips are lifting off the mattress again, but this time around it wasn’t from overstimulation but pleasure. You got him hooked again. Even if his legs close around you and you have to push them apart.

“Mhm”, you hum and giggle, looking up at him with sparkly eyes and his cockhead on your tongue.

He is looking at you with his lids heavy and his cheeks flushed. His hair is a total mess, sticking to parts of his face.

“You’re hard again”, you say and lick him hungrily.

“It’s, it’s ‘cause you f-forced me to, to get hard”, he is stuttering, barely getting the words out.

“I’m sorry, kitten. You’re so yummy that I can’t help myself”, you rasp and take him back inside, granting him one more second of eye contact before the position naturally breaks it. You close your eyes, sucking his tip and swirling your tongue as you move your head up and down slowly. He should really bask in those sensations.

“Fuck”, he gets out and moans shakily, dropping his head back in the pillow, “what did I do to deserve this?” he whispers and makes yet another sound of pleasure, sounding so good doing it that you have to look at him for a moment. You jerk off his cock as you do, pressing the thumb of your right hand down between his balls to give him just a small hint of pleasurable pain.

“Ngng”, Yoongi lets out, arching his back, “ah, a-ah, hah. Ah.”

“You deserve this because you’re my beloved, pretty kitten”, you tell him, increasing the pressure.

“Ah. Ah, ah hah, ah, a-ah”, Yoongi can’t stop making noises. What a total difference from the once reserved and quiet reactions he gave you during the handjob. You are soaking up those reactions like a woman starved.

“And because you’re my pretty kitten, you deserve to cum over and over again. Are we clear?”

“Thank you”, he mewls, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He feels so good. All he wants to do is thank you for making him feel that way.

Your heart flutters. He is adorable. And he looks so wet. His pink, velvety cockhead is covered in it. You have to taste him again.

You lower yourself back to his cock with the intention of not lifting yourself again until you have him creaming your mouth.

“Thank you…ah”, Yoongi moans, dropping his back in the sheets as his hands naturally reach for you again. Both of them. It’s so cute that he gets so touchy when he is being sucked off. He holds your head gently, but never once uses the grip to guide you. No, he merely wants to hold you because sometimes he doesn’t believe that the pleasure you make him feel is real and he has to make sure that it is.

Your mouth is so warm and soft, your tongue is even softer and so, so wet and your fingers know exactly where to squeeze and touch. You have also grown so confident in your skills.

Bear in mind, Yoongi always thought that your head game was amazing, but he can really tell that you are confident in it these days. Back when you started out, you only really dared to go further than his first two inches when you were drunk, but these days it seems to happen naturally. One minute, he has your tender lips kissing and sucking his cockhead and the next he is hitting the back of your throat while a deep moan vibrates in your chest. You don’t need to be drunk anymore to deepthroat him, it happens naturally.

And Yoongi hasn’t decided yet if he hates it because of how utterly ruined it leaves him or if he loves it because of how entirely blissed out it makes him feel. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Oh god, princess”, he moans, closing his legs again as hot pleasure shoots through them.

You chuckle around him before slipping off. You push his legs apart again, looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Stop closing your legs”, you tell him, following it up with your lips nibbling at his tip slowly. Every now and then you dart out your tongue, giving him a glimpse of warm, wet heaven.

“Sensitive, I can’t help it”, he says, eliciting a happy giggle from you.

“You always are”, you are teasing, “what’s with you?”

“It’s ‘cause you feel good”, he says and thrusts his hips, “more please.”

“Mhm ‘kay, but only if you don’t close your legs again”, you say, taking him back inside.

Yoongi rests his head back in the pillow, throwing his arm over his eyes as a breathy laugh slips past his lips.

“You feel so good”, he gets out and moans with a smile on his face, “fuck.”

He drops his legs on the mattress and wiggles his toes, meeting your warmth with a soft roll of his hips.

“Yeah, that definitely tops everything”, he whispers, placing his right hand on the back of your head to caress it.

You love how warm his touch feels and how gentle his thumb runs over your head. It makes you want to perform even better for him, go deeper and make him feel a thousand times more ruined. You slide your hand to his balls and begin massaging them as your mouth slowly but surely sinks down on his length.

“Yes, god”, he gets out, rubbing his legs against your body, “fuck baby, I’m sensitive.”

“Mhm”, you purr around him, which doesn’t help him at all. He just ends up twitching in your mouth while his legs rub against you in a desperate squirm.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?”

You shake your head, wiggling his cock down your throat that way. You hum when he is oh so deep inside you, sending a jolt through his legs. His fingers twitch on your head, trying their hardest not to push you down further.

“Fuck, you’re torturing me”, he gets out and laughs, arching his back.

You love when he is like this. When he feels so good and safe with you that he laughs during sex. To think about how he started off and how it’s going these days. You love this development, having to moan around him as your left hand slides under his shirt. You walk your fingers up his tummy and ribs, stretching them out on his pecs so you can rub his nipple.

His laughter stops, a loud gasp for air replaces them. He chases your touch, sliding his arm from his eyes to instead hold your hand through his shirt. He squeezes it gently, rubbing his legs against you needily.

“Fuck.”

There was no ounce of amusement or laughter in this word. Just desperate pleasure and the disbelief that something so amazing is actually happening to him.

“Yeah, god…that’s….fuck, princess.”

Maybe you like this kind of voice just a little more. Don’t misunderstand, you love when he laughs during sex. But when your touch hits just right that he feels so good that he can’t even find it in himself to laugh anymore to instead moan, definitely feels extra special. He spills his pleasure on your tongue with a throb of his cock. His taste is amazing.

You glide off of him until you can suck on his tip. Your lips fit so nicely around it. Like his cock was made to be sucked by you. He rewards your eagerness with new droplets of his sweetness. Truly, he tastes so good. You hum around him, sucking harder.

“___”, he moans, following it up with a roll of his hips, “___ baby…love, this is…fuck.”

You love that he just can’t stay still. He is an expert in lounging. Sometimes when you and he cuddle, you have to check on him because of how still he can get. And now he just can’t stop squirming and touching and rubbing himself against you. It’s so incredibly adorable to witness.

You slurp up the saliva which has began running down his length and swallow it hungrily. There is just a little bit of his taste in it. Not enough for your liking and so you take his cock between your fingers and apply pressure on his swollen vein. You know just how to squeeze and rub that he leaks onto your tongue.

Sweet like honey. There must be something magical in his taste because you get so needy for it that it gets hard to breathe.

You slip your lips off of him, staring at his tip. It is deep red in colour, courtesy of you sucking his soul out of his cock. Your fingers glide to it and begin squeezing just right to milk him of his translucent goodness.

“Fuck, jesus, you gotta- hrng”, he gets out and lets out a deep growl, throwing his head back as best as the position allows him to, “honey, fuck.”

“You’re so wet for me”, you taunt and squeeze more out of him. You love how his cock looks when he leaks for you. So pretty and wet. How wonderful.

And while he growls and gasps, you let out a chuckle. It is heavy in crazed pleasure.

“You’re such a wet kitten”, you rasp and finally connect your tongue with his cock. You grind the flat of it over his slickened tip, ending it with a throaty moan and a flick of your tongue. You flutter your eyes at him, even if he isn’t looking, “you’re my fucking addiction”, you lull and sink him into your mouth as far as you can take him.

Only once he is deep as you can go, you begin moving. Fast and harsh. You drool all over him, spill tears instantly and find it just a little harder to breathe but it’s so fucking worth it.

Yoongi moans and he moans loudly. So fucking loudly. His hips roll off the mattress, his hands reach for his own thighs and squeeze hard to prevent them from falling closed.

“Holy shit, holy fuck. Princess love. Fuck. Ah! Aha baby ah.”

Your left hand is working hard on keeping his nipples as sensitive as possible while your right hand holds his throbbing cock in place. If you wouldn’t, it would just be way too hard to keep the rhythm going.

“You have to stop or, or else I’ll- ah”, Yoongi throws his head back, arching off the mattress, “I’ll cum down your throat, please stop.”

He is so polite. Even now when you are so clearly derailed in pleasure, he is trying to warn you. He is such a gentleman. Oh how you need this man to literally pump your stomach full of cum. Yeah, you are really derailed.

You pinch his right nipple, keeping it between your fingers to massage it harshly. The pleasure swirls down his body and goes straight to his cock.

“Please I have to cum, I don’t- ah”, Yoongi shudders and arches his back, “can I cum in your mouth?”

The switch up is so fucking hot. To have him go from begging you for a break to begging you for the chance to climax down your throat, it’s so hot.

You hum around him, nodding your head.

“Really? Please. Ah- fuck, ___ please.”

You moan and go deeper, nodding your head with more vigour.

“Thank you”, Yoongi croaks and drops into the sheets. A second later, you feel his seed shoot down your throat and his cock throb in your mouth, “holy fuck yes.”

You wanted to swallow everything, but didn’t take into account just how hard your boyfriend cums. It ends up spilling out of your mouth and you working quickly to try and slurp all of it up. You love every second of it, feasting on his taste with a pounding head.

Yoongi pulls you off of his cock once overstimulation sets on.

“No more. Serious”, he chokes out, following it up with a breathless, “you’re fucking insane. What the fuck.”

You are so dizzy, nuzzling your nose into his soft inner thigh.

“Fuck Yoongi, you taste amazing”, you lull in a raspy voice. Your throat hurts just a little from getting it creamed so good.

“I’m dizzy”, he confesses, rolling his head to the side, “princess…”

You kiss your way up his body, staying at his neck to cover it in gentle love bites. His taste still lingers on your tongue, making you dizzy. Yoongi purrs and rolls his head to the side, nudging your temple with his nose. A kiss follows.

“This was amazing”, he lulls, smiling against your skin, “you’re the best, my love.”

“Yeah?” you giggle, lying down beside him with your leg draped over his waist and his arm under you. He closes it around you, running his hand up and down your back. You can look at each other so well like this.

“Mhm, yeah”, he says, staring at your lips. He reaches up and swipes his thumb over your lower lip, “you got a little something there”, he says.

“Oh? Oops. Thank you”, you say.

“Mhm”, he hums and guides his thumb to his mouth to lick it clean.

“Hot”, you mumble.

Yoongi lifts his brows at you playfully and slips his thumb free with a bop of his lips.

“It’s the least I can do”, he says, giving you a lopsided smirk. He is so good at doing them.

You nudge his chest, letting out a very ungraceful snort. Yoongi thinks it’s the most beautiful sound you ever made, soaking it up happily.

“You’re dumb.”

“Why?” he asks in a chuckle.

“Because you’re being flirty, you know exactly what this does to me.”

“What? You gonna suck my cock again?” he jokes, making you snort again.

“God”, you fluster, dropping your head in the crook of his neck. You rub yourself against him like a cuddly cat, “Yoongi”, you giggle.

He chuckles deeply, sliding his hand to your lower back so he can press you closer to him. You feel so warm between your legs. He loves the feeling of it against his naked thigh.

“You know what we should do today?” he asks.

“Wait. I wanna guess.”

“Do it.”

“You’re gonna say cook together, eventhough I literally told your stubborn butt last night that you don’t gotta cook for me all the time.”

He laughs. Wholeheartedly and loudly. You join him, lifting your head so you can look at his happy expression. He laughs with his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut. You love this kind of laugh on him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” you stress, nudging his moving chest. It rumbles in his laughter.

“Yeah”, he says, nodding his head, “fuck”, he ends his laughter with a deep chuckle and a shake of his head, “why do you know me so well?”

“Because being loved means being known and I love you, which means I know you”, you say, grinning when he rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re so cheesy”, he says.

“And you love it, so stop rolling those eyes at me.”

He smiles, “sorry, you’re right”, he says and runs the back of his hand down your cheek, “my love”, he whispers and smiles, cupping your cheek.

You smile, leaning into his palm, “you’re my love too.”

He studies your face with lovedrunk eyes. A soft smile curls his lips.

“Do you want me to return the favour?” he asks.

“Mhm later, as a little break between work, yeah? I’m so hungry you have no idea.”

“I just fed you.”

You laugh. He laughs too.

“I hate you for making me laugh.”

“You loved it.”

“Yeah sadly”, you say and study his face. Especially his pretty lips, “okay actually. Can you give me one orgasm?”

He smirks. Fuck, he is so hot doing that. His eyes lower playfully.

“Of course I can, princess. Let me take care of you”, he says, picking you up to fix your positions.

463 notes · View notes

diorcities · 1 year

Text

strawberries & cigarettes

pairing: haechan (donghyuck) x reader. genre: angst, smut towards the end, fluff? content: enemies to lovers, slow burn, college au, boyband, boyband!haechan, love triangule, kinda?, karina as jeno's s/o, ningning. they're on a play. haechan's a dick, reader's a dick. a lot of cussing. female masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), virginity, unprotected sex, breeding kink. mention of alcohol, marihuana, sharing bed. wc: 15,9k readproof taglist: @sundamariis — @smwhrinthehaze <3

summary: the art school's play is in two days and you're running out of time to put everything together since your known enemy lee donghyuck decided that the rehearsal day was the perfect day to release a launch party for his new album.

"stop!" your voice reverberates on the four walls of the school of arts' auditorium, leaving everyone present perplexed and immobile; they believe that any movement might trigger armageddon. not that you aren't already upset. "tell me it's a joke. jisung, tell me it's a joke," you ask your assistant, who is more useful for carrying your things than assisting with important matters.

"it's a..."

"shut up, i don't want to hear it." your gaze sweeps the room, and as it passes, their eyes avoid yours, refusing to make contact. a sigh escapes your lips as you glance at your wristwatch. it's 22:48. "i don't have time to repeat for the thousandth time what you have to correct, you..." you pause, waiting for the girl in the middle of the stage to remind you of her name.

"yeji," she says. "sure," is her only response. "jisung, who's next?" you ask, watching the boy nervously scan the character list. "benvolio," he replies, trembling more than usual. you give him a bored look before instructing him to bring in the next person. "uh... i'm afraid renjun isn't here," he explains.

"renjun is...?" you repeat, having no idea who he is. "benvolio. he's the guy who plays benvolio," he blurts out, speaking so quickly it takes you a moment to process his words. jisung looks up from the ground and is likely convinced you've lost your mind. you're getting there. "alright," you manage to reply, your teeth grinding as you clench your jaw. "and the next one?" you ask, "the character, jisung," you insist, preventing him from mentioning another name you can't remember. "well... romeo and juliet are missing," the boy informs you tensely, your unnerving calm unsettling him.

"did you call them?" the boy nods, "they aren't answering." jisung awaits your response, which comes without delay. "can anybody tell me where everyone is!?" you explode, provoking a range of reactions. jisung covers his head with the list as if the ceiling were about to cave in, the spotlight assistant accidentally shifts the spotlight, and the girl in the middle of the stage lets out a shriek.

"it's almost midnight, it's friday," he tries to explain. "the play is on monday," you remind him, pointing a finger. the girl's voice captures your attention. "what did you say?"

"i said they're at the dream society party." those words hold no meaning for you. the idea that you should be aware of such events only fuels your growing anger. "can you explain what the dream society is?" you ask, using all your willpower to avoid shouting. "it's the band, the rock band," jisung explains. you look at him disapprovingly. "the entire school is there; it's the party for their new album," the girl continues. "renjun, benvolio, romeo, and juliet are probably there."

you contemplate for a few seconds, chewing gum furiously, almost able to hear jisung's heart pounding as he waits for your reaction. "okay, we're going to that party." the boy's eyes widen. "do you know where it is?" you ask. "y-yes, yes. it's in..." he stops suddenly, his eyes wide in recollection.

"what now, jisung?" you ask, heading for the exit. "lights off! you can go home," you inform, hearing the relief behind you. "well, uh...," you hear him say. "no stuttering; you know i hate it," you interject. the boy clears his throat before continuing.

"well, the dream society... the band... the party. you're going to kill me if i don't tell you."

"i want to kill you already," you mutter, encouraging him to continue. "it's made up of students, from the art school," he says. "okay, you're not telling me anything," you mumble, walking down the halls toward the parking lot. "you know some of them," he insists. "i doubt it."

"jeno," he mentions. you try to remain composed as you search for your car keys. "chenle, mark, and... donghyuck," he blurts out just as you find the keys. his sigh of relief quickly turns to annoyance. jisung must be joking. "there's more..." he continues, nervously. you spin on your heels and stare at him. jisung knows how cautious you are about any mention of donghyuck; you'd react with rage if you heard his name. one of the rules he must adhere to is not to make contact with donghyuck. if he did, you had several options: ignore him, curse him, or your favorite, punch him in his pretty face. but you're not in the mood to scold him for mentioning donghyuck's name, even though it's forbidden, so you push him to continue. "go on."

"the party is at his house."

act one.

"look up romeo and juliet. i'll go for benvolio," you order jisung as soon as you park. by now, you have become fed up with the party unfolding outside of your comfort zone (your car): sweaty bodies, music blaring in your ears, people, and forced conversations. it has become a hotbed for your patience. you take a couple of breaths before leaving.

you follow jisung to the entrance of the house as a somehow shield to the world; no one expects you to be there, and so making an appearance at your enemy's house could lead to a whole misunderstood, something you don't want to feed on. you need to get out of there soon. once inside, both have gone in different directions to cover more ground and, therefore, get out of that place as quickly as possible and go back to the well-being of the auditorium. your eyes look in all directions in search of the lost characters in your work, and also in case you see someone in the crowd. As you move towards the house's entrance, the music becomes louder, and more people start crowding. the smell of weed reaches your nose, causing you to wince. your hand quickly covers it when you collide with jisung's back. "hey!" you yell at him, about to tell him to focus on the target when your eyes flick from his body to the person blocking the way.

lee donghyuck.

"look who we have here, the lap assistant, and the movie star," he whistles. you notice jisung clench his fists ready to step out for you (which you don't thank him enough) before you move him out of the way and face him. the approach has to be friendly; it's his house. if you want him to let you in, both will have to leave the feud for another day. "look… you," you name, causing the boy to shrug. "you didn't call me an idiot; that's progress," he says. you take a breath of air before continuing. "we only want to look for the boys from the drama club, nothing more. let us in, and we won't bother you," you explain, with wounded pride that you have to give in. but sometimes, you have to give in to win.

"those from the drama club," he repeats. "yes, benvolio, romeo, and juliet," you reply. donghyuck frowns, "who?"

you grit your teeth and look at jisung for support. "karina, renjun, and jeno," the boy explains. donghyuck raises his eyebrows in realization, bringing a hand to his chin. you look at him reluctantly, feigning a grimace that doesn't reveal your annoyance. "it's not possible," he says finally. you're stunned for a few seconds, watching him look at you with amusement. "pardon? how is it not possible?"

"we'll play in a few minutes; jeno is our bass player. you can't just take him with you and leave like that," he explains. "dnd Renjun?" jisung asks. "ah..., i don't care about renjun," he says, shrugging.

"okay, okay. you keep jeno," you resolve, looking at jisung, seeking support in your decision. "we'll look for renjun, then," you add, nodding. "well, nice to see you, but we're going." you say your goodbyes, exhausted from being nice, taking jisung's hand and pushing him towards the house, being stopped by the fact that donghyuck doesn't move an inch to let you pass. "yeah… there's a little problem for you guys," he blurts out, looking suddenly embarrassed. "you're not invited to the party."

"you must be kidding," you finally mumble, making donghyuck smile triumphantly. "can't you stop being an idiot for a moment?" you feel jisung's hand on your arm, warningly. the friendly approach: forget it. your tetra: forget it. The possibility that he would let you into the party: forget it. "okay, there are things more important than your stupid band and your fucking existence." donghyuck looks at you with fascination. "there it is, the real yn."

"fuck off." it's too late. you're furious beyond fuming, rabid. you could explode right now and bring everything down. donghyuck's laugh makes you angrier. without being able to avoid it, your hands go to his chest, pushing him. however, the boy doesn't stop laughing. "you're a childish, dipshit jerk," you say, with each push. "fuck off!"."

"you've already said it."

"i hope you enjoy your damn party, you jerk," you spat, noticing jisung's grip on your arm, turning away from the boy with an amused look. "have I told you how cute your eyes look when you're angry?" his comment only makes you angrier. you release jisung's grip only to flash your middle finger in response, letting him finally lead you to your car. "idiot," you mutter, covering your face in an attempt to calm down. "maybe we should go ho…" you hear the boy next to you say. "break in," you interrupt, defiant. jisung nods slowly, exhaling. "break in, understood."

your eyes light up as an idea occurs to you. the trick is that nobody recognizes you and wants to alert donghyuck. "take off your jacket," you order. "and i need you to take my car," you add, causing jisung to stop his movements to do as you requested. sometimes you're grateful that the boy is willing to do whatever you order. among all the chaos, you like him. but you would never tell him. you snap your fingers for him to react. "he must think we left for my plan to work," you explain. "you will take my car for about two blocks. when i find benvolio, we'll meet there," you continue. "understood?"

jisung nods quickly before offering you the jacket. you rush to put it on and hand him your car keys. jisung gives a lucky thumbs-up before you approach the party again. you let your hair down to make the perfect curtain to cover your face, and with jisung's jacket, it's impossible for people to remember you. after all, no one knows you. spending time in the auditorium between classes and breaks in high school made you almost invisible. besides, your foul humor made it impossible to make friends. you knew the drama club. that was your social circle.

you're able to crash the party without regard. you almost jump with excitement if it weren't for the fact that you have to continue with the act until you find benvolio and drag him out of that place. his irresponsibility makes your jaw ache from grinding your teeth so much. the sweet desire to shout at them encourages you to search carefully. "yn?" someone takes you by the shoulder and gently turns you around. juliet's face looks at you, confused.

as if looking at you brings back her memory, she gently taps her forehead. "crap, i forgot. the drama club."

"yes, the drama club," you repeat with difficulty. "i know the lines, seriously." you doubt it. "it's just… jeno." that name. "is performing today, and i wanted to come to support him." jeno. jeno. jeno. juliet and jeno, best friends and neighbors. with those odds, you just couldn't compete. "are you okay?" she asks, concerned. maybe your face has turned red. "great," you blurt out. "now, if you'll excuse me," you say goodbye, stopping suddenly as you remember something. "you haven't seen me, is that clear?" you watch her nod before continuing to search.

okay, juliet: no. romeo: neither. benvolio, then.

you slip through the crowd, going unnoticed, hardly. people look at you strangely every time you take them by the shoulder and turn them around, hoping to find Benvolio in one of them. it seems like you're playing a game of turning over the cards until you find your match. back here, it's not benvolio. back there, it's not romeo. you find him later talking to donghyuck in a corner, and like a repellent, you go to the opposite side. you wait the time it takes for that conversation to end, and you follow him to the drinks bar.

"yn, what are you doing here?" jeno looks at you quite confused when you approach him. being at a teen party was one of the last places he'd expect to find you. honestly, he's right. "oh, i don't know," you mumble, exaggerating every word. "perhaps looking for answers as to why my characters are at a party and not in the auditorium." you watch jeno nod slowly, though he doesn't look at all guilty of that recrimination. "i apologize," he says, "but since you're here, you can stay. i'll make sure to dedicate one of our songs to you as a form of apology." you would have given in at that moment and place, except for one: you don't like rock, and two: someone catches jeno's attention.

"hey jeno!" you freeze as you hear someone calling romeo through the music. jeno waves somewhere behind you, purely by coincidence or fate, where you have seen donghyuck chatting with a girl. "this isn't over, romeo," you threaten, ready to leave before finding out if the person approaching you is donghyuck.

as you turn and flee, your face collides with a smooth yet hard surface. you caress your nose (two time in one night? it must be a record), looking up at the rest of the chest that you hit your septum on, meeting a pair of eyes that seem to shine. "oh shit, are you okay?" he asks, looking concerned. "great," you hiss. the boy moves with a spasm. "i'm really sorry." sure, he is. he looks at you for longer than usual, as if he remembered something. "wait, romeo?" he asks.

"mmm…" jeno nods. "we're in the drama club," he explains. the starry-eyed boy hisses. "i guess you're juliet," he says in your direction. "you guessed wrong," you mutter. even though that answer would have been enough to deter people from talking to you, the boy finds it funny. his laughter is heard above the music, and consequently, jeno starts laughing too. thus, you do too. "she's our director," jeno mentions. the boy nods several times, weighing the words of the black-haired man. "impressive," he says at the end, raising his hand above his head to simulate an imaginary ladder, "very impressive. my congratulations."

"thank you," you reply, suddenly feeling weird. no one has reacted like that. as if they take it for granted that it's impressive in and of itself. the star boy shrugs as if it's nothing. as if it's easy for him to spontaneously compliment people. "wait, if you're the director, that would make you…"

"shakespeare," you both say in unison. genuinely smiling is not common for you. you can see it; jeno has to look at you twice to make sure you're actually smiling. on the other hand, the star boy must think you smile often, go to parties every day, and that jeno is your friend. "have you seen renjun?" you ask jeno, remembering why you came. you watch him think before his gaze gets lost in the ocean of people. his eyes widen slightly as he finds something in the crowd. he points his finger behind the starry-eyed boy, and your gaze follows the path until it falls on renjun, talking to donghyuck, a few meters from you.

as if your gaze can sense it, donghyuck returns your gaze, at first distracted, without recognizing you, until you can feel his brain alerting him to look a second time. however, you react automatically, grabbing the boy by the shoulder, and he instinctively leans forward, within reach. your face moves closer to his, lips going to his lips.

first, there is no reaction. just your lips touching. your body is completely tense from being so close to finding benvolio, when a sudden movement causes your thoughts to shut up. the boy's lips begin to move on top of yours.

he's kissing you.

uour hands are still on his shoulders, and his hand goes to one of them, taking it between them and guiding it to his neck, before slipping out of your hand, onto your shoulder, resting on your back, drawing you closer to him.

his eyelashes tickle your cheeks, and his lips, soft, kiss yours. slowly. your head tilts to the sides when they change position. the spell of a kiss is broken without warning when his lips move away from yours. your eyes widen quickly as donghyuck takes him by the shoulder and pulls him away from you. finally, his death glare falls on you.

donghyuck gives jeno a look before taking your arm and dragging you toward the exit. you try to wriggle out of his grip, but the boy is pretty strong, and his grip is pretty hard. "i can find my way out on my own, cretin," you hiss at him, trying to get rid of him to no avail. "you are a jerk. i want you to know that." you keep ranting as he leads you to the exit. "you bumbling buffoon, always have to mess things up. how i hate you," you blurt out, seeing that you're past the exit.

your hand instinctively goes to his arm, feeling it tense under your touch.

"the exit is that…"

"shut the fuck up," he hisses, leading them into a desolate hallway. he drops you between the wall and him. he looks quite angry, his hands are clenching and unclenching into fists, and his breathing is rough. his eyes finally look at you, burning with rage. "what the hell are you doing?" he releases. "shit, are you like this because i snuck into your part…?" you say before he interrupts you. "what were you doing kissing mark?" he asks. you're afraid he will release fire at any moment.

you find yourself not knowing what to say, watching his hardened features and shadowed eyes looming over you. without noticing it until that moment, you fall into the account of their bodies, almost brushing against each other. your arguing breaths intertwining in the air in between. your gazes trying to pierce each other. so close you can smell his cologne, mingling with his marlboro breath. your gaze travels to his lips, as if you could visualize the cigarette between them, exhaling smoke through his plump, heart-shaped lips. reacting quickly and cursing for what it looks like you're doing, returning to meet his gaze, only to find that he is doing the same, looking intensely at your lips. only you never smoked.

you make an effort to go back to the here and now, remembering that because of him, your characters are there and not in the auditorium. that he surely did it on purpose, just like in the past. donghyuck watches you cross your arms. "what do you care?" you ask, causing him to react by rolling his eyes in annoyance and taking a couple of steps back, putting distance between the two of you. "the world doesn't spin around you, pretty girl. i don't give a shit who you kiss." his voice sounds rather bored. "just don't kiss mark," he adds.

your laughter fills the air, a stark contrast to the boy's attitude. "you don't tell me what to do, idiot," you finally say, looking suddenly serious. "certainly, who or whom i can't kiss," you say, sentencing. a muscle jumps in the boy's jaw. "do what you want," he mutters, his face coming dangerously close to yours, a contest of who murdered the other with a stare begins. "but do it out of my damn party," he whispers, his breath tickling your cheeks.

"good!" you answer, dodging him on your way to the exit, "and just for your information, maybe you should shower, you stink like cigarettes! bet your groupies wont like it."

"bet they do."

fuck romeo. fuck juliet. and fuck lee donghyuck.

you walk across the front lawn toward the street. a voice calls you over the music. mark appears out of the night, smiling in your direction. "hey, shakespeare, where are you going? are you okay?" he asks quickly.

“yn,” you utter in a low voice, resuming your march in search of jisung. "i know," he replies, earning you a look. the question about how he knows your name pops into your mind, and you answer it almost immediately. jeno.

“um… are you leaving so early?” he asks.

“yes, i… i have things to do.” of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that donghyuck doesn't want you at his stupid party like you want to be there anyway. “good luck with your presentation,” you tell him. “ah, and…, i'm sorry I kissed you,” you add, ending that fateful encounter between the two of you. that night has turned out differently than you imagined. you want it to end.

you feel mark's hand take yours, stopping you. "i don't." he watches you hide your perplexity at that confession, raising his eyebrows expectantly. you can't help but look into his eyes for a longer time, those that seem to contain fireflies. “you will,” you assure, and you wait, fearful for him to turn around and go back to the party, for him to give up so quickly, for him to agree with you. but that does not happen.

instead, he takes a step toward you, and then another, and you hold your breath. maybe he does too. his hand goes to an unruly lock on your face, pushing it away gently. “i doubt it,” he utters, just for you to hear.

act two.

the auditorium begins to empty out as students carry the romeo and juliet sets backstage. as one by one, the pieces are removed, an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach; your last work of the cycle. the last play before you graduate. the memories are inevitable to stop, and suddenly, your vision blurs. you've been doing works since you realized that you could have your own criteria. you've been doing them since you were little, in the safe space of your room, but not interpreting them, directing them. seeing everything from the outside, always expectant. you've never wanted to play a role until that moment when you watched the stage empty.

"all set, boss," jisung shows up unannounced. “i can't believe this is the end,” he comments, without giving you time to recriminate him for the scare he has given you. “ugh… i didn't realize how much i liked working at the drama club,” he says, looking around the auditorium. you chuckle, causing the boy to look at you curiously. "even when i was yelling at you for not doing your job right?" you ask, wanting to sound disinterested but dreading the answer.

jisung simply replies, “that was the best part.” smiling. “it was a pleasure to have been your assistant,” he pronounces, his gaze softening with honesty.

“jisung,” you call as he walks away. the boy raises his eyebrows, waiting, patient, as if he knows. “you weren't… that bad,” you blurt out, trailing off each word, hoping he finds sincerity in your words. he nods, smiling, causing you to add “don't get used to it,” in the process. “uh, by the way,” he says, remembering something, “the principal wants to see us when you have time,” he reports.

you watch him walk away, deciding to pick up the art school principal on your way home. slowly, you walk toward the exit of the auditorium, pacing the room slowly, wanting to remember the scent one last time (excluding the smell of sweat and hairspray). all the auditions, all the plays, the moments when you eat quietly on stage, your gaze lost between the audience seats, with the dim reflector and your ideas traveling at a thousand kilometers per hour as the only company.

"hey!" a high-pitched voice screeches as you accidentally trip over his body. “ah, yn, i was looking for you.” renjun looks at you, his frown replaced by a smile, mysteriously looking glad to see you. “i just wanted to apologize for playing a lousy benvolio role. i'm really sorry, i should have taken your play seriously. you put so much effort into it and put your trust in me, and i'm really sorry,” he says, vomiting the words without breathing, his features contracted into a pained grimace. “you probably hate me,” he adds.

you look at him, breaking the silence with a sigh, "i don't know if i hate you more than i like you." the boy doesn't look the least bit offended. he shows you one of his best smiles, which lights up his face. “oh, i'll take that as a good thing,” he comments. "you know? even though everyone thinks you're evil, you turned out to be quite nice."

"who thinks i'm evil?" you question, catching him off guard. his eyes widen as if he had said something he shouldn't have said, suddenly avoiding your gaze. despite the fact that you had initially said it as a joke, the boy's reaction makes you take his words seriously. "was it your friend?" you continue, "donghyuck?" renjun denies it several times. “i was referring to the drama club,” he confesses, “well, apparently…everyone hates you.”

“old news, renjun,” you declare. you couldn't be friends with everyone, especially when the weight of directing a play fell on you. obviously, there was going to be discord, but as long as the play was perfect, you didn't care if the world ended up hating you. glory was born from hate. however, why did you feel a sting to think that lee donghyuck was behind all of that? he had said worse things in the past. their enmity went back years. their hatred, full of spite and resentment, could be felt if you shared the same room. the tension hanging in the air, making your blood boil and you hold your breath. just thinking about the other made your bodies stiffen, and a knot settle in your stomach.

renjun had said goodbye when you informed him that you should go to the principal's office. jisung had gone ahead and waited for you in the waiting room. when he saw you approaching, they entered the office. “good news,” was the first thing the man in the suit said. next to him, a woman took a seat in the chair where the director used to sit.

someone had seen the work and wanted you to present it at the art show in town. you listened intently to the woman talking about the details of the event. unlike jisung, who would blurt out “oh” and “wow” in every sentence the director said.

they wanted you to present romeo and juliet, again. all the creative protocol was in your charge. a play in the theater of the city, with five thousand people. with a lot of luck, the hundred seats in the auditorium of the school of arts managed to fill up, but the theater… it was another thing apart.

you both said goodbye to the woman and left in silence towards the already desolate corridor of the art school. both took a few steps, walking away from the office, before jisung cheered excitedly. "wait, you're going to say yes, right?" he stammered, looking concerned. your lost look found his, trying to contain a smile to no avail. you nodded several times. yeah. jisung returned to his victory chant.

your steps guided you towards the exit of the art school. as your eyes swept the parking lot, jisung announced that he was on his way out. "do you want a ride?" he asked, as your eyes found what they were looking for. “i'm fine,” you stated in a whisper, watching the boy lean lazily on the side of his car. brown eyes meeting brown eyes. smiles appearing shyly. the warmth of a hug impregnated with its aroma of amber and wood.

his lips left short kisses all over your face, and your hands put distance between the two of you, remembering where you were. “we're in the art school,” you muttered, causing the boy to chuckle. "i'm sorry," he apologized, her eyes flashing with a million emotions, “shall we go?”.

mark had attended the day of the play, and since then, something had blossomed. your heart beats faster when he's near, and an electric shock jolts through you when your eyes meet. however, you haven't kissed since the day of the party. waiting. it's something new for you. him. what you're feeling.

you catch mark staring at you. a nervous laugh suddenly attacks you. "what?" you ask, seeing him raise his eyebrows. “you're very happy today, that's all,” he reveals, turning his gaze to the road. “i'm happy,” you concede, reaching your hand up to her hair. "do you know the play?" you continue, hearing mark nod, "they want me to present it at the theater in town." you watch mark raise his eyebrows in astonishment. "wow, that's…impressive." his hand goes to the hand that's combing his hair, bringing it closer to his lips and leaving a kiss on it. “impressive,” he repeats again, in a whisper.

you smile, meditating. mark leaves another kiss before interlocking your hands and resting them on the panel in the middle of their seats. “this calls for a celebration,” he declares. "wait, what?" you ask between laughs. mark joins them.

the car falls into a pleasant silence. the evening breeze ruffles your hair. the sweet feeling of being this way numbs your extremities. why didn't i meet you before? you think aloud, quickly realizing your serious mistake. however, mark takes it seriously. "i don't know," he simply replies, "fate works in mysterious ways." "do you think it was fate?" you ask, curious. “surely,” he declares, drumming his fingers on your hand. you give him the reason probably was.

as soon as mark has parked the car, both run into a furious donghyuck.

"where the fuck were you?" he bellows, stopping to give you a fleeting glance. you can see how the fact that you were there answers his question, which makes him angrier. "we have to show up in a few hours, and you think of running away with your girlfriend?" he spats.

"well, at least you know what it feels like," you counter, crossing your arms. mark looks at them both, not knowing what to do or say. jeno, who had been observing everything from a distance, makes an appearance to calm the waters. "it's already here, isn't it?" he tries. donghyuck rolls his eyes at his words. “you can't expect us to waste time while you're being romantic, lee,” he complains, “you have responsibilities, abide by them,” he sentences, before walking away into the house, entering the garage.

jeno raises his eyebrows and half-smiles apologetically, before following the dark-haired man's footsteps into the house. you sigh, feeling your muscles tense, as mark stands in front of you, looking quite affected. "hey..." he starts saying. “he's an asshole,” you mutter, imagining pulling that runny tongue out of him. "sometimes." every time, you mean. "maybe, if..." you discover his intentions before he can formulate them. “never,” you settle, “mark lee, never,” you repeat, emphasizing each word.

“i'm not asking you to become friends,” he explains, “just…don't insult each other,” he requests. "at least try." you look at him, reluctant to do as he asked, easily giving in to the way he is looking at you. "fine," you hiss. and with that, you both head inside.

the garage is mainly decorated by the band's instruments. the battery is in one corner, and at the other end, two sofas (a large one and a small one) surround a box that serves as a coffee table. the walls are decorated with posters and license plates, and the lighting is rather dim. jeno is tuning his bass on one of the sofas, while karina is whispering next to him. donghyuck is on his back talking to a girl who is trying to calm him down, putting her hands on his shoulder and hair. just looking at him makes you feel tense again. mark notices, pulling you close and placing a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.

the girl who is chatting with donghyuck finally looks at you at the entrance, raising her eyebrows in surprise. donghyuck gives them a doggy look before leaving the room. “you must be yn,” she says, reaching out and holding out a hand. you don't know if you should smile or not, so you just don't. “yn, this is our vocalist, ning ning,” mark introduces the girl, “and you know chenle. he's in our course.”, he points to the guy at the keyboard.

“my pleasure,” the girl greets, “will you come to our gig?” she asks. and honestly, you don't know what to answer her. mark hasn't invited you. carrying your thoughts a few minutes ago when you told him about your work, the thought that mark hasn't even told you that he's going to play today causes the knot in your stomach to tighten. the possibility that he doesn't want to spend time with you invades your thoughts.

“i…” you start to say, before donghyuck interrupts you. “she doesn't even like rock,” he says, referring to you. consequently, four pairs of eyes watch you. you glare at the boy, remembering afterward to be nice. “that is to say…, i have not been able to appreciate the genre. but it's never too late,” you confess. the truth is, there's no real reason you hate rock. at least, not one you can remember at the time. you've never taken the time to listen to it, so to say you hate it is pretty extreme. it's easier to say that you hate it than to have to explain that you have no reason to do it other than donghyuck likes it, and therefore, you repelled it.

you feel mark leave another kiss on the crown of your head in the form of support, under the brown-haired gaze. a staring contest over who can break contact first begins. "uh... shall we start the practice?" ning ning asks, getting the boy's attention, who just gives a short nod. mark walks away towards the white guitar resting on the support, and with him, the warmth that emanates from his body. not knowing what to do, you do the most sensible thing: sit next to karina, who pats where jeno had previously been.

“should we play…?” chenle asks, being interrupted by donghyuck. "it doesn't have a name yet, no." is all he says. “lovesong,” ning ning proposs. donghyuck nods and everyone goes to their places, mark strums the strings of his guitar, and in response, donghyuck counts out with his drumsticks.

«i know i love you.

이 제로�� 세계 속. in this zero world.

i know you're my one and only.

이 끝이 없던 어둠 속. in this endless darkness.

like oh my god, so holy.»

you watch in fascination as mark plays the guitar with nimble fingers. the enveloping melody of the song puts you in a state similar to ecstasy. the way in which the instruments complement each other, producing an absorbing sensation. jeno's bass with mark's guitar makes the perfect duo, and the drums give it the touch it needs. and ning ning's voice, in perfect harmony, manages to unite everything in a melody that resembles a siren's song. ning ning is like that, bewitching. you can notice how her presence attracts the rest to herself, like an anchor.

you help mark with the cables of the amplifiers while chenle, jeno, and karina are in charge of loading the things into ning ning's van, who is smoking a cigarette outside next to donghyuck. both in a pleasant conversation that is alien to your ears. you watch donghyuck laugh and joke, and restlessness seizes you; the image being quite strange, almost intimate. you look away finding mark paying attention to the same panorama you are looking at. “it's not fair that they're not helping carry things,” you complain, suddenly feeling annoyed. mark chuckles, pinching one of your cheeks, "i think that's my punishment for being late."

“oh,” you say. "you should do it, then." his face twists into a grimace, “what? but it's shared fault,” he argues.

"why's that? i'm not in the band."

“but you're dating a member of it,” he accuses. you open your mouth and nothing comes out of it, while mark looks at you deeply. your body suddenly rises in temperature, making it difficult to breathe regularly. "uh..." you stammer, not knowing what to say. the words melt on your tongue, the heat reaches your neck and cheeks. you are blushing

“pretty,” mark declares, taking in your face. his gaze softens, his eyes widen slightly. you share glances for a few seconds, before he remembers something that causes their features to change. "hey, about today's gig."

“don't worry,” you request, brushing it off. maybe mark has reasons for not inviting you to his little concert. whatever the reasons, you aren't upset about it. maybe a little discouraged. “i have things to do and…” you say, leaving the words hanging because the reality is that you have the night off, and you expect to spend it with him.

“oh, i…,” he reacts deflatingly, “well, i was going to ask you if you wanted to see me play tonight, but…” he explains, fixing his gaze on the floor, looking interested in the carpet, and anywhere in the room except you. “i don't want you to think that i'm inviting you because ning ning told you that we were going to play. i was actually going to ask you when we were packing, but i messed it up, right?" ends with a question, waiting. studying your features. “we can drop you off at your house, on the way to…”.

“i have nothing to do,” you quickly confess, catching the boy off guard. you deny several times, not believing how foolish and desperate you sound. however, there is no going back. “i mean, i remembered that…,” i have nothing to do, you want to say, “i want to see you play,” you finish.

his brown eyes caress yours, before sliding to your lips. her mind meshes thoughts, his face gives them away. your gaze travels over his tanned skin. eyes, nose, mouth. lips parted, holding a prayer. you lick your lips in an involuntary gesture, returning to his gaze, shadowed. his eyes search yours, pupils dilated, asking for permission, before leaning dangerously towards you. your lips almost brushing against each other, your mind evoking the sweet taste of liquor in his mouth on the day of the party.

“okay, guys, we're leaving now,” ning ning announces, clapping her hands several times, drawing everyone's attention. the atmosphere of the moment breaks. mark sends you a pained look, before taking the last cable and encouraging you to follow him outside. the look of donghyuck throwing knives in your direction.

the journey is quite pleasant, the opposite of what you expect. the atmosphere is loaded with jokes and laughter between them, and you as if seeing everything from the outside. laughing, but not interacting. mark has noticed that you are thinking, and has put an arm around your shoulders, drawing you to him. “oh god, i remembered something,” ning ning says, in the front seat, “mark, thank god you decided to show up. donghyuck was about to pull his hair out with his bare hands,” she reports, emphasizing with her hands. donghyuck, next to her, snorts.

"well, it was for a good cause," the black-haired man defends himself, "i was celebrating something."

karina gets interested, “wait, you're dating?” she asks, astonished, before immediately hitting jeno's shoulder. “you owe me twenty dollars,” announced. you are stunned by their interaction, listening to ning ning whistle and share a look with mark, who laughs, waving a hand. “no, not that,” the boy replies, searching your gaze for approval, “yn will present his play at the theater in town,” he finally announces.

there is a reaction shared by the band members. chenle raises his eyebrows slightly, jeno and karina let out a "wow." and ning ning whistles again. "that's great, yn!" congratulates the girl, "don't you think so?" she asks the boy next to her, who simply says “quite a lot.” glancing fleetingly in the rearview mirror. "hey! watch out for the driver,” he protests when ning ning smacks his arm, joking.

you finally arrive at the place where they will play tonight. a bar on the outskirts of seoul. inside, loud music plays in surround style. drinks come and go. mark hands you a beer, which you swallow with difficulty. “yo-dream,” they roar, clasping their hands in the middle of the circle, preparing for the introduction.

the lights dimmed as the band take the stage. the crowd erupt in cheers. ning ning's voice greets the audience, and before long, the band start playing. all attention on her, ethereal. it fits perfectly with the music. chenle joining as second vocalist.

«i know it's real, i can feel it.

난 문제 투성이 love sick. i'm full of problems.

길이 없었어. there was no way.

죽어도 좋았어. i wish i could die.

i'm a loser in this game.»

they have the audience spellbound. singing the lyrics as if they are in a spell, and ning ning is the cause. with her pale skin, with a siren voice. she even catches the eyes of the band members. captivating. chenle glances in her direction, jeno sometimes looks at her, before turning back to the audience, donghyuck, hidden behind ning ning, seems to be staring at her, even though for a moment you think he is actually looking at you.

«please use me like a drug.»

your eyes go to mark, surprising you to see them already looking at you. it feels fascinating to watch. he has donned a tank top, which shows off his chiseled arms and collarbones. his black hair falls to all sides, which he combs back from time to time, leaving his forehead free. the lighting frames his angular features. his wet lips from constantly licking them part, in concentration, while his fingers strum notes on the guitar. the muscles in his arms tensing under his smooth skin.

you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to touch them. soft under your touch, warm. steady, as it looms over you. staring at you, from above, before bringing his mouth closer to yours. his pelvis rubbing against you. donghyuck's suspicious look on stage takes you off guard, taking you out of your thoughts.

your breath quickens at your thoughts. blurring look. you pull yourself together by casting glances around you, thankful that they can't read minds and your wild guesses.

the band eventually says goodbye. you go behind karina to the backstage, looking for mark. you find him keeping his guitar in the lining, a smile blooming on your lips before donghyuck appears in your way. you are about to hit his body if you aren't faster. your eyes meet.

the malicious desire to reprimand him for watching where he was going grows at the base of your throat. however, you remember that you will try to be nice to him for mark's sake, so you clear your throat, in an attempt to prepare yourself. “it was fabulous,” you admit, making no effort to lie. the truth is, it has been wonderful, but saying that to donghyuck would cause his ego to grow.

you watch him frown, and you almost want to roll your eyes. “hey… i guess for both of us's sake we can try being nice,” you ask expectantly, watching him take his hands out of the pockets of his leather jacket. one holds a cigarette box, and the other he holds it to you. the rings on his long fingers send chills from your hand to the rest of your body.

truce.

“congratulations on your work,” he says, before breaking hand contact. “it was obvious that they were going to want to present it at the town theater. i liked it,” he adds, causing you to look at him in disbelief. “you haven't even seen it,” you object.

donghyuck is silent as if debating whether to say it or not. in the end, his lips part and he pronounces “yes, i did.”.

you take his confession seriously when you reply “i thought you hated them,” accusing him, unable to avoid it. "what makes you think that?" he asks calmly. "because you said it. you hate them the same way you hate me,” you reply, “remember?” the memory flashes across his face, finally laughing through his nose. “so you do remember,” you mutter. “something i said in fourth grade? of course,” he sneers.

"that doesn't mean you didn't say it."

“i was a boy, yn,” he pronounces. “sometimes kids talk nonsense,” he continues. “like saying they hate something when they really like it,” he finishes, fixing his gaze on you, taking your breath away. "i have never hated you."

there it is, again. that unknown sensation seizing you, confusing your senses. your mind blurs, and nothing coherent is able to form, under the penetrating gaze of the boy, absorbed in his own thoughts. his eyes, which always look like strong coffee, melt like a shot of expresso. an exhalation leaves his lips, snapping you out of your reverie.

“well…, your comment started our feud,” you expound. “mmm…” he mumbles, looking right through you. “just the result i didn't want, i'm afraid,” he says, before gesturing to the cigarette box in farewell and moving on to ning ning. you, in response, go to mark.

“hey… have you seen…?” he inquires when he sees you approach, however, he stops mid-sentence when you take him by the shoulders off guard and bring your face closer to his.

your hand goes to his neck, soaked in sweat, drawing him towards you, merging your lips with his. kissing them testing them. his hands go to your lower back, closer. his mouth opens slightly, deepening the kiss.

you hang on his neck when you feel his tongue slide into your mouth, impregnated with beer and mint. moving your face for more access, his movements turn from cautious to agitated. suddenly feeling watched; across the room, someone looking back at you. you break the kiss against your will by running out of breath. you hear mark swallow slowly, before directing his lips to your cheeks, leaving a trail of kisses. your eyes turn away from donghyuck as your hands, still on mark's neck, close in a hug, breathing in his scent. “wow,” he sighs, “i think i'm getting used to being kissed off guard,” he teases, circling your waist.

after the concert, you go back to the garage of donghyuck's house: the band's refuge. jeno and karina are in a corner, where jeno is trying to teach her how to use the bass. mark has taken a seat on the single sofa, with you on his lap, chenle is on the long sofa, stretched out and staring up at the ceiling with the beer can on his stomach, and donghyuck has taken the coffee table

“tell us more about your play, yn,” ning ning urges, sprawled between chenle's legs, before taking a swallow of her drink.

“oh, it's romeo and juliet,” you report, “the contemporary version,” you add. “great,” ning ning admits. “by the way,” jeno says, walking over to the group and forcing chenle up to give him and karina a seat. "you haven't told us if we want to be in it again, did we do so badly in romeo and juliet?" he asks, sharing a look with karina.

"no, you do great," you confess, feeling nervous. it's true that you should ask your characters if they want to continue being part of the cast for the presentation in the theater, but the truth is, an unconscious desire has stopped you from doing so. "the truth is… I want to be in it for the first time before, you know, graduate," you admit, "i'm not sure I'm going to direct a play again, and...".

"don't say that," mark demands. "you're wonderful at directing," he assures, giving you a stern look.

"you'd do well as juliet, i bet," karina says, glancing back at jeno, who nods. "i'm willing to play romeo if you wish," he agrees.

"or..." chenle's voice comes. "mark could be," he opines, shrugging his shoulders. mark's eyes widen in astonishment. "wait, are you serious?" he stammers. ning Ning shrugs. "just saying." his brown eyes search yours for answers. "if Shakespeare accepts me, my answer will always be yes," he concedes, a peculiar twinkle in his eye.

you don't know why you feel horrible.

act three.

"benvolio? are you playing?" jisung's eyes widen in a battle of emotions. disbelief. emotion. intrigue. ecstasy.

you nod several times. "mmm..." you state. "you're the ideal candidate. you know the lines, and you almost defeated renjun at the auditions," you explain. "i still don't know why i didn't get the role..." he comments, meditating. you touch his shoulder gently. "that's because you were ideal to be my assistant. call me selfish," you confess.

the fact is that the work is next week. the fact that jisung is playing benvolio has nothing to do with the fact that time is not in your favor. the boy knows the lines and has been renjun's substitute in the last play. honestly, he is the perfect benvolio. also, you have to focus all your attention on teaching mark his lines. it's quite a difficult process because you both spend more time making out than practicing the scenes. it's hard to avoid it. look at his lips as he recites the words of romeo. his hands, with long fingers, touching his chest covered by a linen shirt. it's hard to contain the urge to kiss him right then and there. more difficult to contain the thread of your thoughts about that transparent garment.

"wow, being an actor is really hard," he decides on the way home, letting out a whistle that he accompanies by shaking his head. "i see why you're always in a bad mood," he confesses. the car is silent for a few seconds as you give him a reproachful look before his laughter fills the air. "i was kidding," he admits. "lousy, by the way," you comment before stroking his hair, smiling. it's your favorite thing. running your fingers through it. combing it. especially for what usually comes with it: mark's little moans into your mouth when you kiss.

after the first kiss, you're doubtful about the next step. you find yourself sinking into the depths of your thoughts while looking at him. the desire warming your chest, feeling your heavy tongue when someone decides to talk to you in those moments. and you know mark thinks about it too, yet every time a kiss escalates in intensity, mark stops.

you both want it to be special.

"you haven't played anymore?" you ask when he falls silent. "yes, small places," he explains by tapping on the flyer, "but i thought you didn't want to go since we've been busy with the play, and performances are late at night. i thought you deserved to sleep." you observe his profile, and you lean in to leave a kiss on his jaw. "i always want to go," you whisper in his ear. you hear him chuckle slightly. "really?" "mmm..." you mumble. your lips leave kisses on his ear, down his jaw and neck. you hear him swallow hard, his breathing becoming ragged.

after seeing them play that night, you find yourself wanting to see it again. it's the first time you've experienced something like that, the emotion, the ecstasy of the moment. especially what comes after each presentation. the intimate moment in donghyuck's garage, where they chat about anecdotes and joke with each other while low music sets the scene. friends. that's how it feels.

now that you and donghyuck have declared a truce, everything is more enjoyable. your body no longer tenses, the knot in your stomach is almost imperceptible. the atmosphere is no longer tense between you. finally, both are beginning to realize that it isn't so horrible to be in each other's company. watching him laugh so easily while joking with chenle. maybe it isn't as terrible as you imagined.

"shit," mark growls seconds before the car stops moving. he manages to park it on the side of the highway, both stunned, gaping at the car slowly lifeless. mark tries to start the engine, to no avail, cursing under his breath. "wait here," he speaks before opening the door. "do you want me to call a mechanic?" you propose, sticking your head out the window, and watching him head for the hood. "no need," he mutters, glancing over. "although…," you watch his face light up as he comes up with a solution. "could you call donghyuck?" "i don't have his number," you reply, watching him approach the passenger door and holding out his phone to you in response.

you take the cell phone in your hands, not believing what you're about to do. the phone rings three times before the boy's voice floods the line. "you're late. again," is the first thing he says, in a monotone. "uh…, it's yn," you clarify. you take your silence as a hint to keep talking. "hey, mark's car broke down on the highway on the way to your house," you report. "mark said to call you," you finish.

"tell mark i'm on my way," he replies. you thank in a low voice, ready to hang up when his voice stops you from doing so. "why didn't you call from your phone?" he asks, a tone that reveals curiosity in his voice. "i don't have your number," you reveal, feeling embarrassed. you hear his laughter fill the earpiece. mark becomes interested when he hears you laugh. "did he answer you?" he asks, leaning over the driver's door. "he said he'll be here in ten minutes," you reply. "we're really sorry," mark apologizes to the other members.

mark returns to the space inside the car, leaning back in the seat, and blocking glances. your hand reach for his cheek. the passing headlights of cars on the freeway illuminating his profile. “well, this is humiliating,” he mutters, referring to the accident. you deny, smiling, however, you could tell that he was hesitating. you lean in and place a small kiss on his lips, in an attempt to reassure him, lifting your body from the seat when it increases in intensity. mark welcomed you into his lap as you climbed in, tilting the seat back for more comfort. his hands going to your hips, while yours traced circles on the soft skin of his neck. feeling him under you.

leans towards you, leaving several kisses on your lips. you laughed without avoiding it. “mark,” you point out. “mmm…it's addictive,” he apologizes. “your lips always taste like strawberries,” he confesses, and you feel yourself swoon as you lean in to kiss him.

a sigh leaves his lips as you slowly moved your hips against him. your pulse soaring in your ears when you could feel it. getting hard against your crotch. you move over him again, back and forth, your lips parted with the sensation. the bulge in his crotch pushing against you. your face contracting as a wave of pleasure hit your body. "mark..." you moan.

two sharp blows sent them both into a spasm. as promised, donghyuck looks at you through the car's tinted glass. you rush down from mark's lap, as the boy lowers the window. “hey,” he greets. donghyuck looks down at both, arching his brow. he knows.

he clears his throat, glancing at the highway, disinterested, before opening the driver's door, prompting mark to get out of the car. the black-haired man gives you a short look before getting off.

you cover your face once you make sure both guys aren't paying attention to you. embarrassed, ashamed. fearing that he has heard you. fearing that he has seen them through the glass.

they return to the car minutes later. finally come to life. by the time they start back toward donghyuck's house, the sun has gone down.

"we're really sorry," mark apologizes to the other members. the breakdown has taken up the time they were going to allocate to practice. although the apology is directed towards everyone, donghyuck responds.

"it doesn't matter," he replies.

they end up playing jealousy, jealousy and shinunoga e-wa. the way home is quite silent. no one is joking, and no one is chatting. you even come to believe that they are avoiding you. mark doesn't even notice when you tell him about it when you get to the garage. "maybe we're all exhausted, we've been playing various places the last few days," he tries, but you don't buy it. "i'll go talk to him," you inform him before heading out to find him.

the marlboro trail leads you to it. and ning ning. you fear you are interrupting the hectic conversation they are both having, ready to talk to him at another time. after all, neither of them has noticed you. however, one word catches your eye.

"what will you do when she sees us, huh?" hisses ning ning. "you can't help it forever, hyuck," he adds, taking a short silence that he uses to take an inspired drag on the cigarette in his bony fingers.

you hear donghyuck complain. "she's going to kill me," he assures. "she'll still kill you if you don't tell her."

that conversation is not making sense to you. you are hesitating between interrupting them or leaving, noting that the conversation is heading towards private territory. you don't feel good eavesdropping, especially if that conversation turns out to be a confession between them. but a million unknowns float in your mind. who are they talking about?

"we just reconciled a few days ago. you can't expect me to tell her and have her hate me again. i don't want to ruin it," his confession catches you off guard. the tone of his voice reveals the effort it takes to say it out loud. reconcile with whom?

"she's going to find out sooner or later," ning ning states.

you don't have to connect the dots to conclude that they are talking about you. however, you can't find out about what.

"what do i have to find out?" you ask, finally stepping out of the darkness. donghyuck seems to have seen a ghost, and ning ning simply disappears into the house. "what don't you want to tell me?" you reformulate.

he recovers almost immediately, getting up from the wall where he was leaning and approaching you, menacingly. "who do you think you are, sneaking into conversations that don't concern you?" he accuses, towering over you. "don't try to change the subject." you threaten, discovering his intentions. "what is it that i can't find out?" you ask again.

donghyuck ignores your questions and enters the house, with you on his heels and recriminating him. it's true; you aren't going to give up that easily. with every step donghyuck takes, the chances of finding out what he and ning ning are talking about go with him. you can't let it happen.

donghyuck stops abruptly when you stand between him and his path of escape. your hand instinctively closes on his jacket, preventing him from moving. you look at him sternly, causing him to shoot daggers at you with his eyes. the discussion catches the attention of the others, peeking into the hallway where you and donghyuck are having a staring contest.

"listen to me," he says. "it's a huge opportunity," he begins, and as he explains, your brow furrows more and more in confusion. "i couldn't say no, okay?" he urges, looking at you with pleading eyes.

the realization hits you in the stomach as you realize where the conversation is heading. you feel his hand put on yours, but you break the contact as if it burns. “you… idiot,” you declare, feeling your voice burn in your throat.

you push past him on your way out of the house, hearing him call behind you. you turn a deaf ear to their calls, your mind plunging into the purest anger you've ever felt in your life. how could you have let your guard down? how could you think that you and donghyuck could be friends?

"yn, please."

"leave me alone!" you roar. “i… i'm a fool,” you continue, watching him deny. "yes, I am." you agree. "i should congratulate you; you've won, okay?" you admit.

"what's going on?" mark's voice comes from behind them, causing them to turn their attention to him. “let's give him the good news,” you propose. “dream society will be performing at the town theater,” you inform, feeling donghyuck tense. “his leader wanted to give you the news, but he thought it would be better to wait until I left so i wouldn't find out until the day of the presentation,” you conspire. "probably because he wanted to see my stupid face when i saw you."

mark looks at you, and the absence of surprise weighs heavily in your stomach. "you knew?".

"yn..." he tries to call you, tries to pull you out of the hole you've fallen into, the one you've been pushed into, by his hands, by donghyuck's, by everyone's. he looks at you and you feel like dying, but it's his voice from behind that make the execution.

"yn..." you interrupt him, accusing him with your finger. "you always have to take everything away from me, huh?" you spit “whatever you wanted to prove, well done, you proved it,” you add before walking away, not looking back.

act four.

“you're leaving in ten minutes,” the av assistant reports, peering into the dressing room.

the truth is that you are more than ready. you have fixed yourself in record time, just to be able to review and coordinate with others. the scenery is on stage, the seats are filling up. extras are in their costumes. everything is going smoothly, except for one thing.

it has been a week since you last went to a dream society presentation. mark seems to understand why. just seeing donghyuck's face makes you want to vomit bile. the best thing you can do is break all contact with him, in hopes of extinguishing that knot that oppresses your chest.

jisung comes out from behind the screen to show you his outfit. you tilt your head, watching the boy before reaching over and combing his hair. “better,” you declare.

you look at your phone for the fifteenth time tonight. no notifications. no messages from mark. romeo is not there.

"seven minutes!"

“shit,” you mumble, drawing the attention of the people in the dressing room. the last thing you want is for them to get stressed knowing that a major part of the work is missing, so you smile.

he is not answering the phone either, and boy did you do it more times than you wanted to admit. he has simply disappeared. a part of you begins to fret, plotting the most terrible thing you can think of. mark would have to be on his way to the theater if he is going to perform with the band afterward. it is unlikely that he would not come when he should. if it is not for the work, for the presentation of his band. a thought surges, like poison. what if donghyuck is behind all this? what if mark being romeo was donghyuck's plan to humiliate you in front of the whole town? you are on the verge of collapse.

"five minutes!".

"shut up!" you receive shocked looks from everyone in the dressing room.

without saying a word, you leave the room. you do not notice jisung following you. "something happens?" he asks. finally, you break down, “romeo…mark doesn't show up,” you correct. your gaze clouds; a moan tears from your throat even when you try to stifle it. jisung pulls you closer to him in a hug. "not a biggy." he reassures. you hear him hum, thinking. "jeno?" he suggests.

“it will take more than five minutes to get here,” you comment. besides, if donghyuck and mark are behind all of this, jeno is surely behind it too. “renjun,” he utters. you walk away, compiling yourself. it is not like you to whine. you must be looking for solutions. “he only knows benvolio lines,” you recall.

“huh,” you hear jisung utter. although when you look for his gaze, it is at a point behind you. your eyes go to the place where he is looking, holding your breath.

“mark's car broke down.” donghyuck approaches carefully, as if a sudden movement could break you.

“three minutes!”.

“we need mark,” you say in his direction. “he's not going to make it, yn,” he says, studying your features. “shit, shit.” jisung raises his hands to his head.

"is he coming?" you ask, fearing the answer, "or is he the final piece of your plan?" he tries to maintain a neutral expression, but you know him, you know when your words hit home, and this is one of them. however, you don't find victory in it, much less comfort. "i don't think mark would do anything to hurt you," he says sincerely. "and you?" you say without thinking.

"two minutes!"

“wait,” jisung says, drawing your attention. "you…" he hesitates to look at you when his eyes land on donghyuck. “you've seen the play a couple of times. in rehearsals, right?" both gazes fall on donghyuck, waiting for the dark-haired man's response.

donghyuck just nods slowly.

do you know the lines of romeo?" you ask, trying to hide your astonishment. "yes, i've read something."

"they're out in a minute!"

"jisung, take him to the dressing room. we have to improvise a bit," you announce. jisung steps forward, showing him the way to the dressing rooms, but you stop donghyuck before he gets away. "if this is another one of your jokes, you bet i'll go for your head," you hiss, watching him nod, looking at the bottom of your face to avoid looking at you.

«these violent delights,

have violent ends.»

the play starts, and the whole time, you are holding your breath. you force yourself to take slow breaths and stay calm. even if it goes wrong, it's not the end of the world. in any case, it would be the end of your career. nothing to worry about. you come out in your scenes and deliver every single line you know by heart. it's nothing new to say them; you always knew them. it's the experience, for the first time in front of the public. your body feels light, the moment feels unreal.

your body tenses when jisung and donghyuck come on stage almost halfway through the play. they exchange a dialogue.

"are you in love?" jisung asks, looking at donghyuck. you bite your lips, thinking of a prayer. "out," he replies. "of love?" jisung inquires benevolently. donghyuck's gaze goes to the boy. his features show nothing more than the ghost of a lament. "the one that i love doesn't love me back," he utters, his words emitting sadness to the public, his look causing a pang in your heart.

the scene changes to another. one by one, the work is coming to an end. you can glimpse the band members in the audience. jeno and chenle give you thumbs up, and you have to try not to laugh right then and there.

until the scene you had practiced with mark comes. many times. in rehearsals. backstage. in your car.

donghyuck delivers each of his lines to perfection. it's a little contradictory that he would have remembered them all just by reading the work once. although you don't underestimate it. donghyuck is pretty smart, you know that, and he knows many topics. you've seen him chat with the members when they're relaxing after a performance. so when you witness the emotions he inspires in each of his words, you can't help but believe that he really means them.

then he leans towards you, and impulsively you do too. he has removed the rings from his fingers when he places his hand on your cheek, his face moving closer to yours. your eyes close, feeling his breath mix with yours. your lips finally meet, and he explodes in your chest.

donghyuck kisses you slowly, and you feel your body melt into the other's mouth, savoring the kiss. his body hovers over you, causing a shadow, hiding the desire of the public. feeling his silky lips against yours, you find yourself wanting more. but the kiss doesn't last more than five seconds, and the moment comes to an end when donghyuck's body moves away from you, and you fall into the realization of your thoughts as you kiss him.

and like some sort of magnetic feeling, your eyes travel to a dark corner of the theater. a single figure stands there, as if heading backstage without being seen by the audience, but stops at the last second to witness this exact moment.

you both leave the stage, avoiding each other.

"well done," jaemin congratulates, in the role of mercutio. "it's not over yet," you both answer at the same time. jaemin stares at you, hiding his amusement. "break a leg," he wishes, watching you go off in opposite directions.

shit, what just happened?

the work finishes wonderfully. mark appears backstage, apologizing until he's breathless. he explains that on the way to the theater, his car breaks down, and he has to call a tow truck. his phone dies after calling and notifying donghyuck, with no way to contact you. you can tell that he really feels it. you reassure him that you aren't upset and that it isn't his fault. the last thing you want is for him not to do his best in his presentation by thinking about that kind of nonsense.

the band goes up shortly after the play. those from the drama club watch the performance from the wings, deciding that the views are the best. as always, ning ning introduces the band. her harmonious voice is heard through the speakers of the town theater. "this song is called 'strawberries & cigarettes,'" she announces.

act five.

your body feels like it's floating with mark next to you. the van is full of glee and ready to burst. jisung, jaemin, and renjun have joined in the celebration, causing them to be crammed into the seats. finally, the wars and disputes have ended.

the entire school of arts attends the celebration to bid farewell to the last semester.

the dreams have gathered in the patio of the place, toasting with beer and laughing. "i dreamt a dream tonight," you're surprised to hear donghyuck recite romeo and juliet. jaemin replies, "and so did i," before taking a drink of his beer. "well, what was yours?" you ask. "that dreamers often lie," he utters.

that little scene makes you remember something that had surfaced in your mind after the presentation of his song. your attention goes to the boy next to you. mark has been silent since they left the theater, his face reflecting nothing more than sheer absence. lost in thought, you leave a little kiss on his cheek; you don't want him to continue to torture himself thinking that he failed you in the play, so you come up with something. "by the way," you hear a small "mmm…" before muttering, just to him, "strawberries and cigarettes?" you ask, funny. your attempt to get his attention pays off. "mm…" he agrees, absorbed. "donghyuck named it," he declares, looking at you as if he wanted to find something before looking away, perhaps finding what he was looking for.

you stay hanging, in automatic mode, with a lost look. looking for donghyuck by inertia. their eyes meet, transmitting endless emotions without labels.

the night takes its course, but you get stuck at that moment. watching everyone have fun, toasting, dancing. mark has broken away from your side at one point, and at another, someone handed you a beer that you declined as best you could. the party fades until the members scatter again in the place where you stayed all night.

by the end of the night, everyone is all drunk, except you.

you help jaemin pick up the empty cans and put them in a garbage bag. jeno has taken renjun inside the house when the boy fell asleep on the grass. chenle is throwing up in a bush, and jisung doesn't let go of ning ning for a second, who is smoking calmly next to him.

"have you seen mark?" you ask him. she just shrugs. "i think i saw him leave in his car," she comments.

when the temperature begins to drop, they all go inside the house. "okay, let's divvy up the rooms," jaemin proposes. in the end, chenle and jisung take the giant sofa in the living room, and jaemin settles for a sheet and a cushion on the floor. donghyuck appears just at that moment. "you can take my bed," he offers in the direction of you, ning ning, and karina; jeno says that she will sleep in the van, and by default, donghyuck takes the sofa from the garage.

once everything is decided, everyone goes to bed.

to your and ning ning's surprise, karina has been asleep since before the party ended. in a deep sleep, it's hard to wake her up. you and ning ning lie down on either side of her motionless body.

no matter how hard you try to fall asleep, it's impossible. you can barely get into the bed, not a very comfortable position, and ning ning and karina have taken over the sheets. you stare at the ceiling in silence, debating whether you should just try to sleep or stay awake, considering that it's almost dawn.

however, you end up ruling out both options. your feet take you to the corridor as if they have a life of their own, although deep inside you know that they are paying attention to your deepest desires. trying not to wake anyone, you stop in the middle of the room, realizing how pathetic and desperate your decisions make you look.

"are you going to stay there and watch me sleep?" donghyuck mutters. you see his silhouette sit up on the sofa. it's too late to regret it. "don't you have another sheet?" you ask, watching him sit on the couch. the light hardly enters to see his features, but you can feel his gaze crushing you. "i'm afraid not; i've given them to the dreamies," he explains.

"oh, okay. i'm sorry; i'll let you sleep then," you say, making the move to leave.

"stay." you hear him say clearing his throat before continuing. "uh…we can share mine."

“i don't think it's a good idea,” you think aloud. “you're drunk,” you point out, quickly clarifying, “i didn't mean you're going to do something; i'm just saying it because you'll regret this in the morning.” when you can see him stir.

“i don't think i'm going to regret making sure you're okay,” he says.

there was. the dilemma. to leave. or to stay. donghyuck or…

“okay,” you whisper.

you close the distance between them, watching donghyuck make room for you on the sofa. he passes the sheet over your bodies before laying his head next to you. your bodies so close. legs trying not to get tangled. your hands brushing his chest. “you're shaking,” he comments. you don't know if it's just because of the cold. "i'm sorry," you apologize.

you feel his hand looking for yours under the sheet, taking them to his lips, expelling his warm breath. you are disconcerted when you don't smell a trace of liquor, coming to think that perhaps accusing him of being drunk had been your pathetic excuse. "better?" he asks. you nod slightly. the dim lighting barely reveals his smile. his eyes close sleepily, and you fear that this is the last chance to say it; he would slip out of your reach.

“donghyuck,” you call. his eyes widen again, warming your insides. "i…" god, why did it cost you so much? “it's okay,” he says. “i want to say it,” you murmur. you see him pay attention. “i'm sorry to tell you all those…things. i'm a stupid. it was a giant opportunity, and i just ruined that special moment with my attitude and… i'm so sorry.” your gaze clouds over with contained tears. “it's okay to hate me for the rest of your life,” you sob.

your words are followed by silence, coupled with donghyuck's rhythmic breathing. you feel his lips rest on your forehead. “i thought you would know by now,” he murmurs. you look up to meet his gaze. dark, as if the stars of the night sky had been swallowed. “i could never hate you,” he confesses. his eyes close by inertia under your gaze. “after all, all my love songs are for you,” he reveals, so low, for your ears only. he keeps his eyes closed, as if afraid of finding rejection if he saw you.

your hands go to his cheeks, prompting him to look at you. you study his features, scanning his face in the dark, although you don't need to see to know where his moles paint his face. "careful," he warns when your gaze lingers on his lips for a longer time.

your mouth imagines what they taste like this time if you try them. marlboro. beer. sweet.

a gasp escapes your lips unconsciously, catching donghyuck off guard. your tongue holds a plea, which doesn't need to leave your mouth when what you ask for is fulfilled.

donghyuck's lips devour your mouth fervently with hungry kisses, wanting to appease a long-held desire, wanting to stop a flood of suppressed emotions.

your hands run through his chest, shoulders, and neck, eventually getting into his dark hair, hearing a moan die in your half-open mouth. his body hovers over yours, your legs wrap around his waist, a flame burning in your chest, numbing your common sense, letting yourself be carried away by desire. him, all your senses scream. him. him. him.

his movements become erratic, clumsy, desperate, trying to melt into each other, trying to kiss everywhere, touch everywhere. his hips thrust into your hips in an unexpected movement, feeling his erection against your belly.

your gazes meet between gasps.

"i don't..." you start saying, seeing him open his eyes with blows. “shit, forgive me,” he hastens to say. the very thought made your hands shoot up his arms, stopping him. “no, no,” you utter, making what you meant to say clear. “i…want…i want you to,” you confess, relieved that he hadn't brought up the intrinsic drawback you were both aware of.

“i just…” you continue, “it's the first time i…, you know, i've done it,” you finally say, waiting for his reaction. all you got was donghyuck's deep look. "it's also the first time for me," he answers.

the confession caught you off guard, sitting up on your elbows, almost impacting your foreheads. he had caught you off guard. you never would have imagined. that the boy that he belonged to a gang and misbehavior would not have had his first sexual experience. "shit," you exclaim, "are you sure...?" you asked, being interrupted mid-sentence by him. “yes,” he states, without a stutter. “i want it to be you,” he confesses.

your heart was about to explode. “i want it to be you too,” you agree, before donghyuck kisses you.

between kisses, he deposited you back on the comfortable surface of the sofa. your hands caressed his back when his lips moves to your neck and clavicle. hair tickling your cheeks. smile tasting like honey. his moans just for you to hear. his caresses bristling your skin as his fingers leave their prints on your hips, legs, and arms. inserting them under your shirt, cupping your breasts, brushing your nipples.

your back arch. further. further. further. lifting his shirt, stopping in mid-kiss to pull it over his head. admiring for a few seconds his bare chest. tracing an imaginary path to his belly button with your finger, listening to him breathe heavily. your mouths met again as if all this time they had needed each other. hands down your waist, fingers brushing your belly. "may i?" a question. a yes as an answer.

you feel his fingers get lost under your pants, letting out a gasp when he found his way to your intimate area. putting pressure on it, before drawing small circles. the pleasant sensation of their movements causing your eyes to fix on the ceiling, blinking when you feel your mind cloudy.

donghyuck stimulates your clit with a leisurely rhythm, leaving wet kisses on your neck and shoulders, deciding that your shirt was unnecessary, and ending up on the floor next to his. thumb deciding to leave short little touches as his fingers trailed down into your folds, awakening all your nerve endings.

while everyone slept, your silent gasps and the sound of your wetness crackled in the air.

your legs go numb while a pleasant wave invades you. "that's ok?" he asks shyly. fearing that your voice would betray you, you nod effusively. your hands instinctively going to the place where he was touching you. you got up enough to see his hand move nimbly, hidden by your pants. donghyuck watched you raise your hips and with agitated movements, started to take off your pants. his hand stops its movements, and you almost feel faint.

with one less garment, you go for his pants. donghyuck leans back on the sofa, watching you sit up and remove the piece of cloth, his hips moving up to help you. dark underwear coming out in sight, hiding a bulge underneath. "can i?" you ask the same question, looking at his eyes, the brown completely consumed by his pupils. "always."

a stain darker than the rest of the cloth reveals wetness. your hands went to his crotch, above the cloth. the moisture confirmed your suspicions: precum. you position yourself on the ground, between his legs, watching donghyuck throw his head back, you lick your lips before pulling out his member. beads of semen adorned the tip and without warning. looking prominent and big, you wonder how it'll fit in you. feeling soft yet hard, delicate and pink at the tip, with a visible vein that disappears under the base. you lean in. your warm breath hitting his penis makes him let out a small gasp. your tongue lick the drops of precum, putting the flushed head in your mouth, warm and rigid, causing him to let out a moan. the citrus flavor took you by surprise, gently sucking on the tip, hoping not to waste a drop.

“you're going to kill me,” you hear him say, before taking his full length into your mouth. your cheeks puffed out and your brow furrowed as the tip grazed your throat, pulling it out immediately and meeting the boy's gaze. like this? they ask his contorted features gave you the answer.

a line of kisses from the tip to the base, and back up, putting it in your mouth, pulling it out, and repeating the process while bobbing your head. his small moans letting you know you were doing a good job. his hands on your neck and hair, pulling him out of the picture. your hands going to the base of his member, touching his testicles and watching him tense up. finding yourself loving his whiny voice, his guttural sounds, the feel on your tongue, the trace of his flavor, wanting to taste more.

his hands take you away without warning from him. breaking contact. you watch him breathe heavily, and then watch him struggle to form a sentence. “you,” he says, on an exhalation. "i want you."

your chest explode in a supernova-like explosion. a hot sensation hit your stomach.

"do you have… ?" you see him rummage through his pants pockets. "yes."

his hands search for yours in the dim room, helping you up from the floor. finding your way into his lap. your legs are positioned on each side of his waist, putting all your weight on his thighs, in front of his erect dick hitting his stomach. your chin is lifted up by his hand when you get lost contemplate his masculinity, salivating in desire of having it again in your mouth, taste again his seed. the other hand leaving your hips to open the condom. “why did you have a condom in your pants?” you asked with genuine curiosity. his brown eyes looked at you. “i'm prepared,” he jokes, "i didn't know exactly the time you'd want it so i always carried it."

"shut up," you chuckle.

his mouth trail kisses from your chest to your stomach, lifting you slightly until you feel him at your entrance. hand looking for yours. intertwining. sharing glances as you slowly lower on him.

submerged in the coffee of his eyes, you feel him sink into you. a sharp pain expanding inside you, adjusting to the unknown. donghyuck stays still, watching you scrunch your face into a grimace showing him discomfort. he doesn't move until you push your hips into his. you need to feel it. you wanted it so much.

donghyuck expands your walls, the pain becoming imperceptible, pleasurable. a gasp escapes your lips. “hyuck,” you gasp.

his face is hidden in your chest. “feels…,” he whispers, “very good,” he finishes, before hugging you and pulling you close. the sudden movement causing both to moan for the friction of your bodies intertwined, moving with him.

your hands seek support on his shoulders, arching your hip, feeling it. propelling you up and down again, a slight burn in your groin. your mind going wild knowing that the reason was him. his half-open mouth letting out small pants, which you voluntarily let die in your mouth when you kiss him. clumsily you both laugh.

your face hiding in his neck when your legs trembled. pausing only a little because of the spasms that attacked your lower body, before continuing. increasingly erratic. each time faster. desperate.

"shit." the sound of your sticky arousal driving donghyuck insane, accompanying his hectic breaths. his desperate hands running through your entire body, while a knot grows in your crotch and expands through your belly, numbing your senses.

donghyuck collapses, as the orgasm drains him. holding you close, marking his footprints on your skin. a sharp pang tearing your breath away, before the knot finally came undone, whipping your nerve endings into sweet ecstasy.

slowing down your ride, until it was just small unconscious stimulating movements, still present from the previous episode. rocking your body while feeling him twitching against your walls, coated with your velvety arousal, sensing it slipping out every time you go down on it, shaky “i have to pull it out…,” you hear him say, “before… it stops being erect” he murmurs, receiving a short nod from you.

his hands goes to the base of his member, extracting it from your warmth. your lips leave short kisses on his temple, watching him handle the wrapping with skillful hands, before leading them both towards the comfortable surface of the sofa. his arms encircled your waist. "someone can see us like this" you whisper, remembering the pair of young adults in the next room.

donghyuck leans over and picked up his shirt from the floor, holding it out. “it's really hot all of a sudden,” he says, making excuses for why he was still naked. you put on his shirt between laughs, accepting donghyuck's invitation to lie on his chest. you hear his heart beat slowly.

"so..." you spoke again after a few seconds. “so, strawberries & cigarettes…,” you mention. you felt donghyuck's laughter rumble in his chest. "for you".

"what about lovesong?"

"same."

you meditated for a few seconds. “jealousy, jealousy?” ask now. “you'll have to ask ning ning,” he says, implying that the girl had written the song.

you couldn't contain the smile that form on your lips. again that feeling that warm your chest. love, now you understand.

“hyuck…,” you call, “don't fall asleep.” you could see the smile on his face. discovering your intentions. “we just did it and you want to do it again?” he mock. "you read my mind," he murmurs, before looming over you.

act six.

a tangle of limbs, that's what you notice first, and the absence of noise.

you sit up on the sofa, rubbing your eyes. memories of the night before overwhelm your senses. donghyuck is fast asleep, so you maneuver with difficulty not to wake him up, taking your clothes and deciding to go out and investigate why everything seems so quiet.

the first thing you see is chenle and renjun in the kitchen, preparing a bowl of cereal. joining them, jisung and jaemin eat quietly at the kitchen island. “good morning, boss,” jisung greets. three pairs of eyes shoot your way. “uh, jisung, you can call me yn.” the boy just nods.

"cereals?" chenle asks, in your direction. when you nod, he adds, “can you call ning ning? she's outside, smoking," before returning his attention to what he's doing.

your steps take you to the backyard of the house. ning ning is lost in thought as she puffs on her cigarette, or so you think you notice when you reach her side, exhaling the smoke. “mark was here,” she says, “a few minutes ago.” shit.

her gaze meets yours, her features hardening. "you won't deserve him in a million years," she declares.

you return her gaze, serene. “it's not my fault he doesn't like you,” you finally acknowledge. all this time, you'd thought she had feelings for donghyuck when her heart had always belonged to the boy with the firefly eyes.

you turn your back on her, walking away, going back into the house. "it's already served…" you interrupt chenle mid-sentence. “mark, did he come by car?” you ask, urgently.

“on foot,” chenle replies, “he lives a few blocks from here.” you hurry out, past the garage and the boy who sleeps in it. your mind races with a thousand thoughts per second, and your feet move on their own.

shouldn't be far. you pray that he isn't far away.

"mark!" your breath catches from the effort of running.

he finally turns around, recognition bathing his features.

you shorten the distance that separates you until there's only a prudent space between the two of you.

"forgive me," you beg. "i did not want…".

“i wanted to ignore it,” he confesses, getting tired of waiting for you to finish that sentence. “i wanted to believe that one day you would look at me the way you look at him,” he says under your gaze. you shake your head. "that night when you apologized for kissing me." his eyes narrow, visualizing the memory. “i told you i wasn't sorry,” he quotes. “looking back, i would have avoided all this,” he admits, “maybe if i had run i would have prevented donghyuck from stealing the love that was for me,” he declares.

“if only i had gotten to the play on time. i would have avoided everything."

“i didn't mean to break your heart,” you open up. a laugh leaves his lips. “everything started with him,” remembering the kiss you used to distract donghyuck at the party. "it's only fair that i'm the one who ends it."

mark. the star boy or donghyuck, the black hole.

a sigh leaves your lips as you open your mouth to respond.

finale.

the house is quiet as the members have recently left. you look around the garage, not avoiding feeling nostalgic.

donghyuck is not on the couch, neither are his clothes. a noise coming from the floor above gives away their location: his room.

the boy glances at you over his shoulder. "you're still wearing my shirt, you know that?" you look at the garment. "yeah."

"mark?" he asks, referencing your whereabouts a few minutes ago. he watches you nod slowly, still backward. "aren't you going to look at me?" you want to know, finally making him face you.

you stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, feeling the weight of your actions and their consequences.

donghyuck clears his throat. "i suppose you're here to tell me that you've chosen him, so i'll tell you one thing: don't worry." his words catch you off guard. "it's only fair that it's him. i… was a complete idiot," he opens up. "i wasn't even able to express what i felt for you."

"hyuck." your eyes meet. "then do it now."

a silence settles between them before donghyuck breaks it.

"i'm in love with you." five words. they are enough to bring down all your walls. "i will always be in love with you." his brows furrow in sorrow. "it doesn't matter if you don't love me back."

your feet move by inertia, like a magnet attracting you. donghyuck watches you in silence, his eyes closed when you touch his cheek. finally, he lets out the air he had been holding. “i love you back,” you declare before he kisses you.

his muscles relax under your touch, his tongue savoring your lips before meeting yours. the kiss escalates in intensity, your movements becoming more frantic, and when your feet fall back, donghyuck follows you.

your bodies impact with the soft surface of the bed, taking off each other's clothes with agile movements.

“keep it on,” he requests as your hands went to remove his shirt.

your bodies came together again in a collective gasp. donghyuck closed his eyes, contracting his face, overwhelmed by the pleasant sensation that also ran through your nerves. sinking into you, your mouth opened in a ghostly moan, feeling your head spin.

his hips moved rhythmically, sliding in and out. "look at me." his eyes did as you told. believing that you could drown in the chocolate of his eyes, and in the black hole of his pupils, expanding. his muscles tensing with each thrust. moans coming from his lips, swollen and wet. your body submerging in a sweet ecstasy. eyes filling with tears.

"hyuck...,"you moan, however, nothing coherent could come out of your lips. donghyuck slows down his movements, using one of his hands to comb your hair. “without…” you start, “without condom.” you were able to ensure that his cock twitched inside you. “i'll take the pill,” you mutter with effort.

a sob leave your lips when you felt him take out his member. your gaze travel to the point where your bodies connected, watching as he removed the condom and threw it. beads of precum glistening at the tip. your hands inadvertently go towards his length. you heard donghyuck catch his breath as your hand goes up and down, milking his dick.

"it feels good. you feel good.” donghyuck sank into the crook of your neck, in a tangle of kisses and gasps. your body bristling for him. an exhalation leaves his lips when he reintroduces his member, as the sensation becomes more intense, pounding hard. whimpering as his climax feels closer, feeling you raw, skin to skin. hips colliding, everything ending and beginning there where your bodies get together with each thrust, filling you. intertwining your legs on his lower back, forcing him to go further. deeper. feeling your walls tighten around his girth as he brings both of you to their breaking point, becoming more sloppy.

"i'm so close." a sharp pinprick expand in your core, a current invading your senses. your mind clouding listening to donghyuck's grunts and gasps in your ear.

an electrical wave numbs your senses, feeling your muscles go into spasms, small and short at first, shifting under his weight, arching your back and meeting his body when he pushes into you once more, your hands squeezing his shoulders, traveling to his arms, fingers burying on his smooth skin. hearing him let out a groan, which finally released the tension in your body, both of you letting out "i love you." in one last gasp.

the body of donghyuck collapses on top of you, tensing as waves of pleasure washes over him. slowing down his strokes, going deeper and lighter, milking his seed inside you, hot. the pleasurable sensation of it making you smile softly, sleepily. tired. full.

donghyuck greets you when you snuggled up next to him. silent. the confession still hanging in the air. “i like this character evolution,” he says in a whisper, “no more idiot. or my favorite, dipshit. hyuck” he repeats, "i like how it sounds in your mouth." you leave a long kiss on his mouth. the marlboro mingling with the strawberry flavor. you complain when he broke the kiss.

"did you know that i made you angry just so you would call me that?” he confesses. you deny, laughing.

donghyuck kisses your smile.

"now you know."

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