#and i was like yeah :D and she was like your best friend! and i was like well not quite | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kookslastbutton · 2 months

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what love feels like ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: Being a mother to a beautiful baby girl and wife to an adoring husband is the most rewarding feeling in the world. But you also work a full-time job, are overtired most of the time, stressed, don't have any alone time, look very different than eight years ago, and sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs on you until one day, all of your deepest insecurities rear their ugly head–that your husband might not love you as much anymore and someone could take him away from you.

Pairing: husband!yoongi x reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: swearing, both Yoongi and oc are in their 30s, mom and full-time worker!oc, reserved!dad!yoongi, lack of intimacy, mentions of body insecurities post-pregnancy, mentions of fear of abandonment, mentions of jealousy. irrational worries, built-up stress, light fighting, silent treatment, stubbornness, lots of reassurance, nightmares, cute backstory of how they met, a lot of ily, Yoongi and oc being good parents 🥹, Yoongi calls oc doll, and explicit sexual content

sexual warnings: swearing, kissing, neck kisses, pleading, banter, dirty talk, doll petname, asking for consent, b**b squeezing & sucking, hair threading, penetration, f*ngering, big d*ck!yoongi, growling, missi*nary, eye contact, tearing up, c*ming together

Now Playing: Breathing by Anne Marie

a/n: Okay this was for Yoon's bday. Based on the poll, husband!Yoon won. Was intended to be a Drabble but well...heh 😅 Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this fic and Yoon is just such a good hubby for responding well to these very relatable insecurities. (Low-key love this couple...) I'm sorry for any typos or warnings i missed! I checked and double checked but a few might have slipped. Enjoy! Anyway please enjoy! 🥰

“So, you're Jia's father, huh? I don’t think I've seen you here before, and I’m sure I would have recognized you.”

With his back straight and arms folded, Yoongi gives the woman in front of him a quick once-over. Mid-40s, freshly single, and definitely in need of some companionship. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out; she’s been talking his ear off for the past twenty minutes like he’s some kind of remedy to all her problems.

Honestly, he just swung by to pick up his four-year-old from daycare after another grueling day at work. But the moment he walked in, it was as if all the single moms latched onto him like a flock of hungry geese. This one’s name is Sandra in particular.

It reminds him of his college basketball days, how the cheerleaders all too eagerly swarmed around him after sinking the winning shot at the championship game. Shame he was too busy eyeing the girl in the stands to care, her face buried behind a book twice as big as her head. Who reads an 800-page novel during the playoffs anyway?

Fate, as one may call it, intervened about a week later when his best friend became said girl’s lab partner. Yoongi didn’t make any sudden moves at first, but well, he did make her his wife three years later.

“It’s just so nice to finally meet the father of such a sweet child. Especially considering how many dads tend to take a backseat in their child's early years.” Is she still going on? Yoongi does his best to stay present, though it’s proving unsuccessful. “And Jia truly is an angel! It’s clear you’re doing a wonderful job raising her, even with a full-time job and all.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows knit together at the somewhat odd choice of words. “Thanks,” he drawls out, noticing her pupils dilating with every breath. “Most of the credit goes to my wife though. She’s a great mom to Jia.”

“Jia’s m-mom?” Sandra stutters, her mouth slightly agape. Yoongi senses the gears turning in her head as she struggles to process the unexpected presence of his wife. Tempting as it is, he holds down a smirk. Of course, he’s a happily married man–for nearly eight years now.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. “She’s usually the one to pick up our daughter from daycare, but she’s been working a lot of overtime lately. I thought I'd come instead so she can get some rest."

“Oh, well that’s very–“

“Daddy! Daddy, you’re here!” The sound of a familiar high-pitched voice, along with a light pattering of feet, diverts both adult’s attention.

“Hey kid.” Yoongi effortlessly lifts the small child once in front of him, securing her in his arms. “Have fun today?”

Jia gives an enthusiastic nod, bright red ribbons in her hair bouncing cutely as she does. Proudly, she shows him the drawing she made.

“See? It’s me, you, and mommy!” She makes sure to point to each part of the picture with her pointer finger.

Yoongi gently takes the artwork from his daughter’s hand and lets out a soft chuckle. “Now this is what I call a masterpiece! Mommy’s gonna love hanging this one on the fridge. How about I hold onto this and you go grab your backpack, okay?”

As soon as Jia’s feet touch the carpeted floor again, she races off to her cubby in the far corner of the room. Yoongi shoots Sandra a final glance before slowly following behind. “We got to get going, but nice meeting you.”

“You…too.” Sandra’s response is more than disappointed as she watches the father-daughter duo make their way out of the building. Evidently, Min Yoongi isn’t the single dad she originally assumed. Funny, she swore there wasn’t a wedding band in sight. Maybe she missed it.

“No, I’m sorry but I’m certain we haven’t used any of your services in the last six months. My husband canceled it in late October.”

With one hand, you grip your cell phone up to an ear while the other pops open the dishwasher. You’ve been on the phone with the cable company for half an hour, trying to make sense of an unexpected charge that appeared on your bank account this morning. You consider yourself more patient than most, yet after working all day, a pile of laundry waiting to be washed, and dinner threatening to burn on the stove, the last thing you have time for is arguing with your old service provider.

“I understand, ma’am, and I apologize for any confusion. I’m taking a look at my records and they’re all showing me that—oh wait a second.”

The young man on the opposite end of the line interrupts his own thought, piquing your concern in the process.

“What did you say your last name is?”

You answer and in an instant, you’re met with a thousand rushed apologies; something about getting the account names mixed up in their system. It’s difficult to decipher everything you hear with the front door being thrust open that very moment.

“Mommy, where are you? We’re home!” Your daughter not so subtly announces her presence from the foyer. She kicks off her shoes, hangs her backpack on the designated wall hook, and then rushes to the kitchen upon catching a brief glimpse of your shirt.

“It’s alright, these mistakes happen.” You hang up the call and turn around to find Jia only steps away, a big goofy grin on her face. Infectious, you break out into a smile yourself and swoop her up.

“Hey honey, I missed you so much!” You kiss the side of your daughter’s head as she wraps her small arms around your neck. “You look so pretty with all these ribbons in your hair! Daddy did a good job, didn’t he?”

Being that you were called into work earlier than usual this morning, Yoongi was the one who got Jia dressed and ready for daycare. You’re delightfully surprised by the results.

“Mmhm,” Jia nods, twirling a couple of strands of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “But Daddy pulls too much!”

“Maybe if someone had listened and stopped fussing when I told her, I wouldn’t have accidentally yanked on her hair when I was reaching for her favorite Hello Kitty scrunchie.” Yoongi joins you both in the kitchen, walking over to press a quick peck on your lips while tenderly caressing the small of your back. The gesture soothes you of your earlier frustrations. “Who was that on the phone? Cable company?”

“Yeah, they canceled the charge. Wrong account.” As you reiterate the entire mix-up, your eyes wander all over your husband. He’s especially handsome tonight, given his perfectly tousled black hair and navy blue blazer flowing over his body. It’s tastefully oversized with a clean, white top paired underneath. You, on the other hand, are sporting a raggedy old t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

There was a time when you used to put a shit ton more effort into your appearance. It was before you got pregnant with Jia, back when you and Yoongi were going out on weekly dates. Neither of you has that kind of time anymore, or energy for that matter. You didn’t believe the other moms when they told you the romance takes a nose dive after you have your first kid. Yet here you are, proven wrong again.

Being parents to a beautiful baby girl is likely the most rewarding feeling in the world for you and Yoongi. You don’t remember the last time the two of you got real quality alone time though. And sex? Well, that hasn’t happened in weeks. The gravity of the situation weighs more on you with each passing day to be honest. Sure, you’re not the same person you used to be eight years ago, but shouldn’t you and Yoongi still make time for at least a little intimacy?

“How was picking up Jia by the way?” You look at Yoongi who merely shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“It was fine. Nothing too out of the ordinary,” Yoong gives you another peck before heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go get changed. Why don’t you show Mommy the drawing you did Jia?”

“A drawing?” You shift your attention to your daughter whose eyes sparkle like diamonds upon mention. “We should put it up on the fridge then. Let’s take a look hmm?”

“It’s in my backpack! My new friend and I were drawing together. Her name is Mi-Sun.” Jia continues telling you all about her friend Mi-Sun as you make your way to the front door where her backpack hangs. You’re fully engaged until the very end. “Daddy made a new friend too!” she joyously claps her hands together, not realizing the depth of her remark.

“Oh, who’s Daddy’s new friend honey?” You ask, staying as calm as possible.

“Ms. Cho! They were talking for a really long time today.”

Ms. Cho? You think back to all the moms you’ve met at daycare. Somehow you can’t recall ever hearing or meeting a Ms. Cho. She must be a single mom, you deduce. Was she new? What did she look like? And why didn’t Yoongi mention her when you asked?

This has to be nothing but a little small talk, an acquaintance at most. Besides, the moms at Jia’s daycare are quite a chatty bunch and Yoongi wouldn’t dare overstep any boundaries.

“Do you know what they were talking about?” You don’t enjoy asking your child for details about your husband, yet you can’t seem to help it this time.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders. "Daddy was laughing a lot."

Suddenly, the self-assurance you gave yourself earlier slips away; seemingly useless given the queasy feeling building in the pit of your stomach.

For the remainder of the night, you purposely dodge every attempt your husband makes to kiss, touch, and hold you. You’ve even begun responding to his questions in one-word answers and at times, with nothing at all.

Yes, you’re being petty; more than usual. The silent treatment frustrates Yoongi to no end and it isn’t very mature of you, but neither is refusing to tell your wife that some single mom was flirting with you in front of your kid! Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration. Maybe it all sums up to a harmless conversation, but it’s not like you know either way with Yoongi being as reserved as he is. It brings you back to your early dating days when he wouldn’t think to tell you about various aspects of his day; who he ate breakfast with that morning or the one classmate of his that wouldn’t leave him alone for two semesters.

Truth be told, you're simply hoping that your husband will bring up the topic first, without having to be the classic nagging wife. You’re a jealous person by nature so it’s not a simple task. Even now as you fold the first batch of laundry on your shared bed, him on the other side doing the same, you struggle to keep from blurting everything out.

“So,” Yoongi fluffs up a clean pillowcase before sliding it onto one of the bed pillows. “How was work?”

What a basic question, you grumble internally. Is that all he’s got? “Was okay,” you reply. “The usual.”

“You must be tired from the day. Did you get to lie down at all?” Yoongi picks up another pillowcase, repeating the process as before. When he glances your way, it’s clear something’s on your mind. You’ve started pairing Jia’s socks far more aggressively than normal and you’re holding back your responses. “Did you hear me, doll? Or am I going deaf here?” The sarcastic chuckle distracts you from your task, forcing your attention.

You’re about to respond when your eyes briefly flicker down to his hands, his left one in particular. Where's his wedding ring? Yoongi always wears it no matter what. The same sick feeling from before returns tenfold. No wonder that Ms. Cho was all over him–she must have thought he was single.

“No, I didn’t get to lie down Yoongi. I worked all day, came home and made dinner, called the cable guy to get that stupid bill figured out, and now I’m doing the second load of laundry. I’m really just not in the mood to chat.” It comes out a blur as you snatch the empty laundry basket and head for your washer and dryer, your eyes welling up with tears.

“__, wait.” Yoongi tosses the last pillow near the headboard and stops you in your tracks, his hand firmly gripping one end of the laundry basket. The intensity of his stare softens as he speaks. “I'm sorry if it seems like I'm forcing you to talk. I know you've been losing a lot of sleep recently between work, Jia, and upkeeping the house. We just don't get a lot of time to see each other anymore and I miss you…I miss talking to you."

With every ounce of self-control remaining, you hold back any tears that risk spilling out. You don't know why you're acting like this, why you're crying over something that seems so small and insignificant to the rest of the world. Yoongi loves you. He's said it a million times and proven it to you over and over again, for eight years now. He wouldn’t cheat on you, yet you still get so worked up about the idea that someone could take him away from you. Someone half your age, more attractive, or hell even the opposite sex if it means fewer dark circles under their eyes.

"Why- why aren't you wearing your ring?" Your naturally confident voice dwindles to the whisper of a mouse. It's completely out of character, nevertheless, here you are.

"I..." Your husband's voice wavers. His gaze flickers to his left hand, where his ring should be, but isn't. "Shit...I took it off in the shower this morning," he confesses, frustrated by his forgetfulness. "I was in such a rush to get Jia to daycare, and me to work, that it completely slipped my mind. I'm sorry—I fully intended to put it back on." He pauses, then perks up. "It's still in the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?"

You watch as he makes a beeline for the master bathroom, eager to rectify the situation as soon as possible. You should have kept silent what you say next, but you don't.

"No wonder the moms at Jia's daycare were so drawn to you."

"What?" Yoongi stops in his tracks. The dumbfounded expression on his face tells you that you've caught him off guard again.

"Jia told me about someone named Ms. Cho," you reluctantly continue. "The two of you were laughing and talking and–"

"Baby, don't worry about that." Seizing his chance, your husband walks back over to you and sneakily pulls the laundry basket from under your arm. He sets it on the ground after, then reaches to take your hand in his, but stubbornly you cross your arms.

"Her name's Sandra," he starts explaining. "She's a new mom at the daycare and she didn't know anyone, so she started talking to me. I got the sense she was a little overly friendly but it was all small talk, nothing more."

Still largely unsatisfied, you remain unmoved. "If it wasn't a big deal then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because nothing serious happened. The majority of the conversation was her venting about her ex-husband and me wishing you were right there next to me. Please believe me. All I could think about was finally being able to come home to you after a long week with Jia in our arms."

"Really?" Well, now you're feeling guilty for avoiding him in nearly every way tonight. Guilty for believing such wild assumptions that he'd leave you for someone else over one measly conversation. Guilty for letting yourself get so worked up over a situation you, quite frankly, knew few details about.

"I mean it doll." This time, when he reaches out to grasp your wrist, he succeeds. He intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you to the edge of your bed, gently pulling you down to sit on his lap. "Do you really think I could look at anyone else the way I look at you? Or think about you the way I have for the last eight-plus years we've been married and known each other?"

You hesitate your answer, averting his eye contact. "I know but…"

"No, don't finish that. Look at me," he intercepts. "You and our daughter are the only women on my mind–24/7. I can't get either of you out of my head and I don't want to. I'm so sorry I forgot to put my wedding band back on this morning, and again tonight. I feel awful about it and I'll be more careful from now on. And another thing, when Sandra and I were talking I mentioned you multiple times. So, it's clear to her that I'm a happily married man."

The last bit of information manages to perk your ears. "You talked about me?" Your eyes widen as you finally shift your full attention to him. Yoongi eyes widen with you, amused by your sudden change of heart to look at him.

"I said my wife is an amazing mother, works too hard for her own good, and needed to rest today. Give or take a few words."

That's all? You huff to yourself. Would it been nice if your husband also thrown in that you were beautiful or stunning in that mix of compliments? Yes, yes it would have–again, you're pettiness clouds your better judgment. You're not as pissed off as before, but rather semi-irritated.

"Okay…well I guess it's fine then. I'm sorry for being short with you earlier. I shouldn't have made those rash conclusions about the ring and that woman from the daycare. It wasn't reasonable of me." You get up from his lap, yet Yoongi isn't entirely convinced that you're okay.

"There's still something you're not telling me. I can tell."

"No, there's nothing else." You waive him off, placing your hand on your bedroom doorknob "You told her you had a wife so it's fine. I need to switch the second load of laundry.”

"Come on, doll. Let's not leave things unsaid now."

Sighing at his plead, you find yourself giving into all your repressed thoughts and emotions. It swallows you up, like a tidal wave you can't stop. "Look at me Yoon. I'm sweaty, I have dark circles under my eyes, stretch marks, love handles, my hair's a mess, and all I wear are old sweats covered in stains. I'm nothing like I used to be! No wonder we aren't intimate anymore."

Yoongi rises from the bed at once, offended by the sudden digression. "Is that what this is all about? It’s not even about that single mom from daycare is it?" The truth of the matter sinks in as he speaks.

"I guess maybe so…though I'm still annoyed about that too." Great, you're back to square one again.

"Come with me, I need to show you something." Your husband gestures you to follow him, which you slowly concede to.

"What are you doing Yoon?" You both walk into the master bathroom, stopping in front of the large mirror above the sink.

"I'm showing you the woman I'm in love with and have been in love with for nearly eight years now. Sweats and all." Yoongi makes you face the mirror directly, hands around your shoulders. You have trouble stomaching the sight.

"Yoongi please, I can't. The laundry ringing off." You avoid looking into the mirror and make a move to leave the bathroom.

"Just stay with me a minute, please?" Your husband refuses to loosen his hold on you, turning your body so you're looking eye to eye. "No, you're not the same person as you were and neither am I. We're parents to a beautiful daughter now, who we love and adore. We're also overtired 90% of the time, juggling a million things at once. But there's one thing you can count on to always stay the same–my loyalty to you. I'll always be in love with you __, no matter what age you are or however way you look. There's nothing you can do to change that, so why fight it?"

Dammit. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you take in his heart-melting speech. It's not his words alone, it's the sincerity behind them. How he's repeated similar countless times before throughout your entire relationship.

"I love you, Yoon..." you choke out the words, composure fleeting.

"I love you so much, doll." He wipes the wetness of your tear with his thumb. "As far as us not being as intimate anymore, that's my fault. I don't ever want you to feel like I don't desire you every day. Why don't we send the kid to my parents this weekend and let me start making things right hmm?"

"I don't know if we can this weekend. Jia has a playdate on Saturday."

"So, I'll ask Mom to take her. She'll be happy to, trust me. We can finally watch that movie you've been dying to show me since what? December?"

"You're serious?" Your eyes light up at the mention of what is essentially a movie date. The show Yoongi's referring to is one you've been craving to see for months, yet neither of you has found the time to watch. "I've been talking about it for so long, Yoon."

"I know you have, it's why I suggested it. I've been wanting to watch it too with all the trailers you keep sending me. Plus, I'll be able to keep my beautiful wife in my arms for over two hours. That's a lot for us, especially with you being such a busy bee. I can never get you to light in one place! What's up with that, huh?"

Feeling your natural self re-emerging, you throw a playful swat to his arm and scowl at his teasing comment. "You're one to talk! You're basically a workaholic! Besides, you knew who you were marrying when you met me."

Yoongi chuckles and brings both hands to cup your cheeks, squishing them slightly. "A cutie who reads 800-page novels at a basketball game?"

"Stop babying me!" You pull his hands off your cheeks and rub them, trying to regain some composure. "I don't regret my choices, I like books. It's why I'm such a boss at work!"

"Okay, boss," he laughs. "What about what I suggested before then? I can call Mom tomorrow and ask her if she could watch Jia for the day. She'll take her to her playdate, then they can spend the rest of the day together."

It does sound nice, having the whole day with your husband.

"Okay," you agree. "Let's try."

"Good." Yoongi slides his hands down to your hips and pulls you flush against his chest. "How about we seal it with a kiss now?" You nod and he leans his head down, pressing an amazing, tender kiss to your lips. It makes you both giddy on queue.

"Read one more story, Daddy!" Jia leaps off her small, twin bed and bounds for her bookshelf. She lets out a series of giggles when a large pair of hands catch her, lifting her high into the air.

"I already read you three books kid," Yoongi says, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Bedtime." He then tucks her into her fluffy comforter, plugs in her teddy bear nightlight, and closes her bedroom door.

The next second, Jia comes running out of her room, latching onto his right leg. "I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna play!" Figures she'd be hyper at this hour.

Yoongi sighs and picks her up. "Daddy told you to go to sleep, it's not playtime. You'll have lots of time for that tomorrow when you get to see your friend." He then carries her into her room, yet she fusses in his arms; thumping her tiny fists into his chest.

"No, no, no, Daddy. I want to play!"

Sighing, Yoongi looks at his child with sharp eyes. "Jia–"

"Hey," you interrupt, entering your daughter's bedroom upon hearing the commotion down the hall. "What's going on?"

"Kid doesn't want to go to bed."

You give an empathetic look and saunter over to the pair, gently taking Jia into your arms. Yoongi places his hands on his hips as he watches you reason with your daughter.

"Jia, you know tomorrow's a big day right? You and Sana are going to go to the playground together." The child nods. "You don't want to be tired when you're playing do you?"

"No..." She shakes her head. "I want to be awake!"

"Then you need to listen to Daddy and go to sleep. That way you'll be full of energy tomorrow when you and Sana go on the swings or slide down all the big slides." You smile as Jia starts rubbing her drowsy eyes, yawning in the process.

"But I...okay," she slowly concedes, eyes fluttering shut as she gives into her sleepy state. Unsurprising to you and Yoongi, she was tired all along. But like most kids, hated going to bed.

"See?" You lay Jia in her bed and pull the covers up near her chin, giving her a light kiss on the side of her head. Yoongi bends down and does the same after you. "You just gotta talk to her a little, she'll typically fall asleep on her own."

"But I read her three of her favorite books." Yoongi shuts off the overhead light, along with the door to Jia's room, and follows you to your bedroom.

"That's different Yoon," you argue back. "Books excite her."

"She takes after you that way then." Yoongi pulls his t-shirt off, leaving him bare-chested, and climbs onto his side of the bed. You join him shortly after with your head resting on his chest and an arm thrown around his waist.

"I'm so exhausted," you yawn.

"Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here." Your husband places a hand over your wrapped arm, sending you off into a deep slumber.

Well this is just ironic. Almost 2 A.M. and you're wide awake.

What initially started as a nice, relaxing dream quickly turned into a terrible nightmare. In the dream, you woke up alone. Yoongi was gone. Jia was gone too. You can't exactly make sense of it, except for a vague memory of Jia calling another woman 'Mom'. You couldn't see her face very well, so it could've been anyone. You couldn't speak either, so even when you tried approaching the three, they couldn't hear you. You've had nightmares plenty of times, but this one is new. It's a clear projection of all the underlying concerns upheaved from earlier; insecurities, abandonment, loss, and it has you unsettled.

You glance over to your husband's side of the bed. He's fast asleep, no longer cuddling you due to you both flip-flopping in your sleep. You decide to slide closer to him, needing to watch him for a while. It might sound weird, but you love watching him sleep. He's so handsome and you feel a great deal of comfort doing so. Maybe if he was awake, you'd tell him about what you dreamt. Then again...maybe not.

"I love you Yoon," you whisper as quietly as you can, tracing his every facial feature with your eyes.

"'m, I love you too."

Is he-was he awake? As if caught red-handed, you quickly flit your face away in favor of the blank ceiling above. You weren't expecting him to answer at all, and in such a hoarse voice too. You're a little turned on by it to be honest.

"Can't sleep?" he speaks up again, eyes still closed.

"No, I''ll be okay though. You can go back to sleep. Don't worry."

He grunts, a tad unhappy with your dismissal of him. "Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?"

You whip your head in his direction. "How–" You pause, seeing his eyes blink open.

"I didn't meet you just yesterday, doll. I know they keep you up. Just know, I'm always here okay? Always." He reaches for you with delicate fingers as he continues. "Now, come here. Seems we got separated in our sleep."

You accept the offer and cuddle into him again. This time your noses nearly touch and his arm wraps around your lower waist. You feel the growing urge to kiss him, wanting to forget your nightmare entirely. But perhaps silly, you ask permission first, seeing as he's close to drifting off again.

"Yoon?"

"Mm."

"Can we kiss?" Your cheeks flush a little at the request. Why are you acting like this? You've been married for years.

"Sure, 'm tired but I could go for a make-out right now." A small smirk graces his lips as he teases you. You give him a classic 'Yoongi!' in reply. "I'm kidding. You don't ever have to ask me that," he finishes.

"Hmm, maybe I don't want a kiss anymore." You feign stubbornness, just to see his response. And a response he gives you, more than you're prepared for.

"You're ridiculous," he grumbles, capturing your lips in one fell swoop. He moves his lips against yours as the hand on your waist grips tighter. The tiniest of moans escapes your lips.

You attempt to break the kiss first, thinking it will only last for a few seconds. Yet Yoongi slips a hand behind your neck to bring you into another kiss. One that's deeper than the last. You feel your breath being taken away little by little, especially when his tongue licks into your mouth. God, you haven't kissed like this in an eternity. A wetness soon gathers between your thighs.

"'m, Yoon," you gasp when his cool fingers sneakily make their way under your shirt, tickling your bare skin. They travel the expanse of your waist, stomach, and up along your back. "So cold."

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss and retracts his fingers. He then lazily moves his body until his chest hovers over your own, rolling you on your back in the process. He's a bit of a blur due to the dimness of the room, yet you can see the whites of his eyes a bit better than before.

"Help me warm them then," he says, folding his hands on top of yours from where they rest on your stomach. "You're really burning up, doll."

His observation is right. Ever since you woke up, you're body's been hotter than normal. The stress is clear and it's only increasing due to the unexpected turn of tonight's events; your husband seemingly wanting to make love to you in the middle of the night.

"So I am," you reply, staring straight into his eyes. "Must be because of all the sudden surprises today. My body's finally responding to it all."

Yoongi nods, following your implication. "Well let's do something to calm it down, shall we?" He waits for your final go before making any abrupt movements.

"But...you haven't seen me–"

"Naked in a while?" he predicts your next words, unfazed. "I've seen it all, each time better than the last because I love you. You're beautiful to me, no matter what. Let me love you __. I've missed you. I've missed us."

"Okay...please," you sigh, desperately needing his touch. "It's been so long since we've been this close."

Neither of you has it in you to delay another second as you dive into another fiery kiss, your hands wandering up and down each other's bodies. You love his hair the most, so you run your fingers through it repeatedly. Your husband's soft grunts remind you that it's as pleasurable for him as it is for you, and as if to counter, he latches his lips to the curve of your neck.

"Yoon," you moan, shivering at the feeling of being peppered in open-mouth kisses. Your eyes automatically roll up as well.

Yoongi nips at your jaw next, featherlike, yet deadly to you nevertheless. He doesn't allow himself to linger more than a second, though, preferring to keep you on your toes. So with careful fingers, he begins lifting the bottom of your shirt.

"Can I?"

You hum in approval and lean forward for him to remove it.

With your nipples now exposed to the brisk air, stiffening due to arousal, Yoongi brings both his hands up to caress your boobs. He's incredibly gentle, telling you how beautiful you are once again until his thumbs start circling your peaked nipples. A rush of sensation shoots up your spine as he rolls them harder, flicking them once in a while.

"Fuck," you swear.

"Feeling good?"

All you do is nod fervently in response, which Yoongi takes as his signal to lower his head to your chest. He squeezes both breasts in his hand before wrapping his mouth around a nipple, licking and sucking relentlessly. He repeats the same to the other.

"Yoongi, I need you. Please." You're core tightens, thighs struggling not to rub together, as you plead with your husband to relieve you. You are so wet and getting wetter.

"I'm here, doll, I got you. Fingers first hm?"

He pushes part of the comforter towards the foot of the bed, then gestures for you to raise your butt. Any shred of mystery of how worked up he's gotten you slip away as he pulls your underwear and pants down your legs. They both get tossed on the floor, per usual.

Bare pussy exposed, Yoongi guides your legs further apart and brings a hand down to your entrance. One of his long, slender fingers traces up your folds so smoothly that you buck your hips upon the touch. He smiles lightly at the subtle response, pleased that you're finally enjoying yourself; too often you put your needs last. His finger slowly sinks into your well-lubricated pussy, velvety walls clenching around it.

"Oh, g-god," you give a shaky moan as his finger pumps and curls in you, stimulating your g-spot. "Need you now, Yoon, so bad."

"Mm not yet, we need to stretch you out. You haven't taken me for a good three or four weeks," he smirks at your eagerness, sliding a second finger next to the first. "This pussy is drenched but not enough. I need you to come. Can you do that for me?"

Fast, quick movements follow suit as your husband works you up to an orgasm. Oh fuck, oh fuck, you chant in near whines. Your pussy is spasming around him, walls tightening with each push and pull. You know when he draws his hand out that it's covered with your come. Messy, sex is messy and both of you are too far gone to care; the pleasure sweeping over you.

Finally, in what feels like an endless tease, you have your first orgasm of the night. You feel your body relaxing into the mattress again, yet your breath remains short. Yoongi, on the other hand, groans seeing your release dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. For a split second, there's a slight darkening in his eyes while he takes in your post-orgasmic form. The two fingers that had been inside you are sensually brought to his lips, slipping between the seam before being cleaned off.

You're taken aback by the action, though you've witnessed it before. Something about watching your husband willingly follow through with a gesture so lewd makes your head spin–you want him to fuck you right this instant. He must share the same feeling because you don't even need to sound the words due to his hands already making quick work of his pants.

"You drive me mad, you know that? Can never get a break with how sweet you taste. Your lips, your come. All of it makes me go mad." His full length comes in view, hard and tip leaking with pre-cum. You try not to let yourself stare at the thickness but hell, you must've forgotten the extent of your husband's size. You don't remember it being this big before.

"Well," you gulp. "You're not making it easy on me either, looking like this."

Yoongi climbs over to you again, settling into a straddled position, and looks deep into your eyes. "Who's fault do you think that is?"

"It's your fault." You bend your legs and wrap them around his mid-section. You can feel the tip of his cock tease at your entrance. The anticipation is beyond grueling.

"No," he says, aligning himself up to your weeping hole. "it's yours." He then thrusts his hips forward, his length sinking into you so perfectly it has you completely satisfied.

"Y-Yours," you whimper out, unable to form a steady sentence.

"Fine." He picks up his pace. "Let's just agree we both fuck each other up on a daily---ah fuck!" Yoongi growls and gives you a suspicious look when he feels your pussy suddenly clench around his length.

"I didn't do it on purpose this time! You're fucking me too good is all."

"Really? You're not just teasing me?"

Yoongi is slow to believe since you've purposefully clenched countless times before, simply out of playfulness. Tonight is different than those nights though because you're telling the truth–he's truly fucking you so good.

"What the hell," he concedes. "You feel so fucking fantastic, I don't even care." He continues his movements, thrusting into you with deep groans and labored breaths. His fingers grip the mattress harder with the veins in his neck bulging out.

Both your bodies move in sync as the familiar sound of skin slapping on skin echoes off the walls of your bedroom. You do your best to keep your moans low, not wanting to risk waking up your daughter.

"Yoon, fuck! I need to come, it's gonna-fuck-happen soon," you swear, pussy throbbing at the feeling of being so full after weeks of abstinence. You can tell you're reaching your high with the bundle of nerves in your core threatening to snap at any given moment.

Of course, you're wet too, extremely wet.

"I'm. Nearly. There." He barely sounds the words out, jaw clenching. "Just another minute, and we can finish together."

Your eyes, which haven't left his since he entered you, begin to glass over with tears. It's overwhelming; his love for you. No matter the doubts that tell you the opposite, you can't give in to their ugly lies. You'll continue to struggle, naturally, but you won't ever let them win. Yoongi's never once given up on you, and neither should you.

"I love you, Yoon...I love you with all my soul," you choke the words, falling apart all at once. "I'm sorry for today. How jealous and irrational I got."

"Don't apologize, doll. I shouldn't have let it go so far, our lack of intimacy and alone time. I promise we're going to make it all right okay?"

Giving you one last thrust, you both have your release at the same time. Yoongi helps ride your orgasm out by lazily continuing to grind into you. Yeah, you might need to shower and switch out the sheets after tonight, but you don't regret it one bit.

"In all seriousness baby," Yoongi speaks up, guiding your legs back on the soft mattress until you’re comfortable. "Don't feel like you have to apologize for everything. I understand your feelings and where you were coming from. I will say, the silent treatment kills me though. I'd rather you yell at me than not talk to me at all."

"It's not easy for me to raise my voice like that, Yoon." You throw your arms around his neck and sigh softly. "But I can try talking to you more, or at least tell you I need some time to process before I'm ready to have a conversation. I don't know, am I making sense?"

"Plenty of sense. I'll share more about my day with you and who I'm talking to as well. We'll also carve out time to have together. I love our daughter, but I don't see the harm in reaching out to our friends and family to babysit once in a while."

"Well, this sounds good to me," you hum.

"Me too." Yoongi smiles wide and goes in for another warm kiss. Your eyes flutter shut in unison.

This is what love feels like.

a/n: LMK what you think 🥰

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts au #fic:whatlovefeelslike #kookslastbutton

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trashmouth-richie · 1 month

Text

eddie x reader

a follow up to this prompt by @rebelfell

2.6k

tw: angst, smut, minors fuck off pls teasing? is that a trigger idk.

“we need to talk.” the conversation we’ve been waiting for after you catch your best friend getting head finally unfolds

“We need to talk.”

Your blood ran cold, ice in your veins it was practically prickling your skin. The heat on your cheeks bloomed and your gut quaked at the sight of him, covered.

Play dumb! It’ll work!

“I , m-mean, now?— like right now? You have cum- company! a guest— we can talk later, yeah?”

The stuttering, calmly hands and the sweat gathered under your arms— you were a one woman walking circus, missing the clown nose.

“Why are you being so weird?” He leans into your doorframe, tattooed arms cross over his broad and glistening chest.

The flush still in his cheeks almost brought you to your knees, but it was the single flick of his tongue on his lips that had you melting and wishing he had licked your lips instead. Fuck.

“… besides, you already interrupted my guest, so she left—”

Your ears perk up at the mention of said whore leaving your apartment, and your eyelashes bat open, “she left? Why?”

Eddie huffs and puts his tongue in his cheek like he can’t believe you’re being so stupid.

“Cut the shit, okay? Will you just be an adult for a second?”

The smile on your lips falls and you take a step back towards your bed setting your keys down on the nightstand. The silence is anything but quiet. The energy was chaotic and shooting like daggers much like Eddie’s eyes into yours.

“Well?” he asks dramatically, raising his eyebrows to try to get you to speak.

Play dumb— it’s working!

“Well what?” you muse innocently.

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie spits, any softness he brought into this situation had fizzled—dead at the door.

“I—”

“Forget how to knock?”

“No—”

“Suuuure, you just thought you’d what? Barge in, ignoring our code?”

“I didn’t—-there was no hot water! You forgot to pay the water bill!”

“That’s not how water bills work.”

You stand stunned— mouth open to argue but nothing will even come out.

“It’s the water heater for this shitheap building that’s out— if you don’t believe that I paid the bill—call the water company yourself.”

“…oh.” your voice is small, quiet almost unheard.

“Wow, really great apology.”

“Oh relax! Just call her back and explain it was a mistake, who cares? She shouldn’t be so uptight.”

Eddie is fuming, blood rushing to his head as he tries not to yell out right. But fuck you were being so difficult.

“Ya know… I didn’t say shit when you had Harrington tied to your bed posts and you couldn’t undo the knots— did I? Nope—not a fucking word, I just cut him loose and acted like nothing ever happened!”

You wince, who knew knots were that hard to unlace?

“That was different!”

“Or the multiple times I caught the fuckin’ Chief slipping out of your room at 5 AM? I even bummed him a cigarette for his morning coffee!”

Your jaw hung to the floor, you didn’t know Eddie had any idea that you’d been sleeping with Hopper.

“So? What—we’re just airing out dirty laundry now?” you could be venomous too, your rattle sounding off ready to strike.

“How many months did you try gettin’ into Mary’s pants before you dumped her because she’s married to Jesus Christ her Lord & Savior? Her name is Mary for fucks sake! Not hard!”

His face pulls to anger, “don’t be a bitch!”

“And where’s Gareth? Never see him around anymore, maybe it’s because you ran over his d—.”

“That was an accident! I honked and he never moved!”

“He was deaf Eddie!” you yell back into his face, “or! How about the time I had to pick you up from the Hideout because you got so drunk you pissed your pants?”

“That was YOU!”

The two of you were standing nose to nose, shouting accusing each other of shit that didn’t even matter. Eddie had your back and you’d have his until the end. Cradle to the grave.

But this was different, you weren’t fighting like siblings or friends, you were both screaming as if you were in pain.

He’s the first to move, shaking his head and turning towards the door. when he speaks his voice is low, angry.

“When my door is shut don’t open it—turn your ass around and fuck off, got it?”

His words split your skin, vining through your body like sharp thorns. The hot spill of tears were welling in your eyes.

“Sorry to bother you, asshole— won’t happen again.”

He’s on the opposite side when you slam your door in his face. The rain brewed and stewed and finally was ready to fall from the clouds in your eyes.

Why were you acting like this?

Grabbing your keys you set to leave again, needing an escape so he couldn’t hear your wailing cries. But again— when you opened the door, he was still standing there, only this time he looked pissed.

“Move.”

He brushes you off as if he didn’t even hear you, “enough.”

“Eddie, get out of the way!”

“Do you know how many nights I listened to you fake it for this fuckheads?” How long

I’ve waited for you to admit it?”

He shuts your door behind him as he pushes his way inside.

“Admit what?”

“C’mon, baby— we haven’t been friends for a long time, not really.”

You’re confused and on the verge of tears, “what?!”

Eddie presses forward, head tilted down at you.

“Those douchebags you bring here can’t handle you the way I know you need…coming home to see their boots by the front door makes me absolutely despise you.”

“Who gives a shit? I trip over skanky high heels sometimes too.”

You were missing the point he was trying to make, way over your head.

“Never satisfied when they leave…that little vibrator in the top drawer is not as quiet as you think it is.”

You were throbbing, aching… how did he know?

He inches forward, and you double back towards the door.

“I—”

“Pretty little moans on your lips just minutes after they leave…‘m not stupid sweetheart, I know you do it on purpose— parading around the apartment in your little shorts, never wearing a bra… you’re a tease.”

He wasn’t right. He couldn’t be! Right?

“I hate you, Eddie.”

He stalks forward like a predator eyeing its prey, a stupid smirk on his face.

“No— No I don’t think you do. I think you’re so fucking wound up about me, jealous... It’s alright, I get it. I bury myself in bitches so you’ll get out of my head.”

He takes a ragged breath, his eyes pitch dark, and your back hits the door, he closes in around you, his arms on either side of your head.

“I fucking hate you, princess. I hate that it doesn’t work.. you’ve made me jealous for too fucking long.”

Your body was screaming, angel and devil on your shoulder dancing and holding hands rooting you on.

“H-how long?”

His hand falls to your chin, pulling down your bottom lip.

“Senior year. Hellfire. You laughed at one of Jeff’s stupid fucking jokes and my blood ran cold. I wanted you to look at me like you looked at him. That was just the first time I realized I wanted you.”

You shudder, fingers running along his chest, playing with the chain on his neck, “why not say anything?”

“Didn’t wanna ruin this.”

His lips nearly touch yours, he’s leaning in so close. And you don’t pull away.

“I think it’s pretty clear that our friendship is over, Eddie. I fucking hate you.”

“I hate you, too sweetheart.”

The tension is thick, spinning with bated breath and sexual desire.

“So, we hate each other?”

“Yep.” Eddie muses, angling your chin so he can see your neck.

“…and we aren’t friends?”

He nods silently, pressing his nose to your cheek, “seems to be that way.”

“You’ve ruined everything.”

“Good,” he all but whispers into your ear.

“..a perfectly good pair of underwear.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and he licks his lips. “Can’t have that.”

“No, not at all,” you tease, thumbing at your waistband and letting your shorts hit the floor.

He steps back to examine you with wide eyes, letting them narrow as he bites his lip, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I’m gonna fuck you exactly how you need to be fucked.”

Pulling him back into you by his chain necklace you ask centimeters from his lips, tasting the heat from his mouth, “what are you waiting for?”

He takes a deep breath, hovering his mouth over yours, “nothing, not anymore.”

His tongue hits you first, electric like an eel on your lips, his breath hot as fire. You moan out when his hands grip your ass, pulling you into him with such force you could have toppled over.

Eddie is loud too. Groaning with each swipe of your tongue against his.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, baby.”

His dick is pressed into your middle, hard and kicking up as your hands reach into his hair, pulling you closer to him as if he were a rope and you were climbing a mountain.

He pulls you away from the door to get a quick slap to your ass. Rough and hard and you’re mewling, his rings stinging your skin.

Your lips close to his ear you whisper “Eddie… please.”

He pulls away after leaving a mark on your neck.

“You don’t have to beg, I’ll give you whatever you need, however many times you want it, honey.”

His fingers dip into your waistband around your hips as he slides your panties down to your thighs. “Let me see that cunt, show me what I did to you.”

You step out of your panties and he lowers himself to the floor on bent knees. “Jesus Christ, look how pretty she is, ‘m gonna eat this pussy till you cum all over my face.”

You nod dumbly, body on fire from his words, the lust of having his hands touch you in places he never had, places you dreamt he would, has your mind spinning.

His bangs tickle your inner thighs, breath fanning on your clit, thumbs spreading you open. He sucks in a breath, whistling low.

A single flick of his tongue— that’s all it takes for your eyes to roll, for your back to bend in an arch like you were being exorcized of hell’s worst demons. Your fingernails scratching into the door trying to anchor yourself from grinding on his face until his nose broke.

He spits, watching it drip down to your cunt, “don’t ask me to stop.”

Diving in, his tongue is everywhere. Lapping you up, sucking your clit into his mouth. Swirling around like you would while eating an ice cream cone. Your chest heaves and your thighs tremble as he hooks one over his shoulder pressing into him and he gently pushes it back into place, his eyes never leaving your body.

When it happens again, he shoves it down with force, nipping at one of your thighs, his lips shiny and wet he groans, “keep ‘em put.”

The tip of his middle finger pushes into you, and you squeak out a gasp, leaning forward off the door to take a look at him, and he nearly laughs, “jesus, you’re tight sweetheart, gonna need to work you up a bit.”

He smiles before attaching his mouth to your thigh, sucking a bruise as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a second that’s easier than the first. Your body rolls with his motions, pushing back against him and you know your orgasm is about to snap.

His tongue replaces his fingers and the heat in your stomach releases, untying the white knot and spilling over his lips as you scream out his name.

“Thatta girl, fuck look at you, Christ.”

Your eyes open, a strange drunk feeling taking over, as if you were high on a cloud and falling gracefully back to the earth. Opening to see the blackened eyes of the guy you’ve called your best friend for years, and if you would have known his tongue could do that, maybe you would have ruined this friendship a lot sooner.

“Fuck off Munson,” you mutter, out of breath as your foot gently sets on the ground.

“What?” he laughs.

“Just keeping the fact that you eat pussy better than the devil all to yourself huh? Selfish.”

His face splits into a grin laced with evil as he stands, licking his lips, “that’s not all I can do.”

He’s on you in a flash, hoising you up into his arms, and using the other to hastily shove his boxers down. “Can’t go back after this.”

“Oh this is the tipping point? Fucking is gonna ruin it not you just making going down on me?”

He rolls his eyes as he lines himself up with you, “what happened to that sweet girl I used to chase in the trailer park, huh?”

You reach around your legs and grab his thick cock and lightly sink down onto it the head barely pushing past your puffy lips, “fuck…met a boy who grew up and started selling weed out of his van, kind of an asshole, really big dick though.”

He thrusts up into you so hard you nearly see black, vision spotty from pleasure alone, you whine his name and he practically comes undone.

“Don’t.. shit… don’t do that, I won’t last. Those noises haunt me… been wanting to hear them.”

He holds you tight and fucks you slowly, dragging his cock at a ridiculously slow speed. Groaning when you suck him in deep, biting his neck.

“There it is, the noise that started this whole mess.”

He grins into you stupidly, “I’m glad you’re perverted plan worked, you little hussy.”

His hips move faster and your both whining, accompanied by the slapping of skin on skin. “Water heaters’ been out since last week, ‘m not stupid babe, you’re the one who called and asked.”

“Whoops— oh my goddd,” you squeal before you're panting like a dog and clawing his arms with your nails, he was splitting you wide open and you were near to tears.

The tears finally fall when Eddie bottoms out in your cunt, filling you up, grunting your name as he rests his forehead to your shoulder— completely spent.

His lips kiss your collar bone and you twirl a curl away from his face exhausted around his softening length.

“Princess,” he breathes, kissing life back into himself with the sweat from your skin, “if you wanted to fuck, you should have told me sooner, could have saved us a week of cold showers, y’know?”

You kissed his lips, letting him set you down on the bed so you could both lay back in a lazy post sex high, surrounded by your blankets.

“Well maybe you should have fixed it sooner, you are the maintenance manager of the building.”

Eddie grins and pins you onto the mattress, his hair falling into your face, his thumb sweeping over your cheeks to catch a rogue eyelash, “come with me to fix it?”

“Hmm..” fingers moving his hair behind his ear, “you gonna wear that slutty stained white tank top?”

“Slutty? Why, gonna seduce me in the boiler room?” his lips move down your neck and you whimper.

“Maybe…” you tease tickling his underarm, “so if I wouldn’t have barged into your room… what else would you have done?”

Eddie only smiles, thinking of his plan to “break” the air conditioner and hide your hoodies and blankets so you’d have to come to him for warmth.

“Let’s just say, you would have ended up as my girl one way or another.”

steve tied up in readers room

taglist: @likedovesinthewnd @dashingdeb16 @joejoequinnquinn @min-geniusx @ho3forfakeguys @taintedcigs @b-irock @queenimmadolla @serasvictoria @the-unforgivenn @curlyjoequinn @munsonlore @eiightysixbaby @munsonburn3r

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie drabble #eddie blurb #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #stranger things

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lixzey · 1 month

Text

lovelorn

luke castellan x daughter of apollo!reader

word count: 7004 words

summary: you and luke have been friends since the day the two of you met. you've had a crush on him since the two of you were fourteen; needless to say, he doesn't know about your feelings.

warnings?: unrequited love, oblivious luke, jealousy, falling for your best friend, reader writes songs and plays guitar, reader lowkey hating the girl luke likes, faking, heartbreak, reader is friends with everyone and juniper the dryad, use of nicknames between reader and luke (melody and charming), swearing, will loves his sister!!, platonic chris rodriguez x reader, platonic clarisse la rue x reader, and platonic silena beauregard x reader (chris calls her sunshine, clar calls reader sunny, while silena calls her love), mention of fainting and dehydration.

a/n: take note of every little thing in this first part, because i laid clues for what's gonna happen in part two.

August by Taylor Swift is the song she sings during the camp fire.

ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR.

You smiled as you watched your best friend teach your younger siblings how to wield swords, which was futile, as children of Apollo tend to be better at archery than sword fighting.

But Luke was patient with your siblings, which always made you smile. Maybe it was from experience. Having a cabin full of mischievous kids tends to give experience in being patient with hyperactive children.

You were sure you could stare at him forever. Bright brown eyes full of mischief paired with a contagious, kind smile.

“Y/n, are you listening?” Dawn snapped her fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your daze. “You’re staring at Luke again, gods, you are hopeless.”

“I wasn’t staring, Dawn,” You rolled your eyes, turning your full attention to your younger sister. “Now, what were you saying?”

“You were, you ain’t fooling me,” Dawn teased, a smirk on her lips as she leaned back against the hard stone walls of the arena. “Anyway, are we singing at the campfire tonight?”

You scowled at your younger sister, your gaze landing back onto Luke. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“I know, but I’m still the best sibling you got,” Dawn grinned cheekily. “So, are we singing or not? Or are you just going to ogle at Luke the whole day?”

Your cheeks started to heat up, like being kissed by the sun in the early morning. “We’re going to sing, happy now?” you grumbled, averting your eyes away from the senior counselor of the Hermes cabin.

Dawn smiled triumphantly, rising to her feet. “I think I’m going to join Lee and Michael,”

You raised a brow at her. “You’re shit with a sword.”

“Yeah, but it’s better than watching you hopelessly be in love with him,” Dawn jerked her head in Luke's direction. “Frankly, it’s nauseating.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes.

Dawn snickered, starting to walk away. “I’ll leave you alone to daydream of Luke sweeping you off of your feet, leading you up the stairwell-”

“Shut up!” You snapped at your sister, who was still snickering.

“Is everything okay?” A voice you know oh so well spoke behind Dawn.

“Oh, it's nothing,” You quickly said before Dawn got another idea to embarrass you. “Dawn was just going to train with Lee and Michael. Right, Dawn?” You say through gritted teeth, making your sister chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” And with that, Dawn finally left, golden hair dancing in the wind.

“You okay, melody?” Luke asks, sitting beside you, concern etched on his handsome face.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You smiled, trying to look genuine despite wanting to kiss him and run your fingers through his curls like it’s the end of the world.

You never wanted to be in love with your best friend. You knew the consequences of it—thanks to your friends from cabin ten's constant reminders, but your stupid heart just wouldn't listen.

You've known Luke since the night he and Annabeth arrived at camp when you were fourteen. You'd been assigned by Chiron and Mr. D to tend to Luke and Annabeth’s wounds and bruises, being the head of cabin seven and the best healer camp has to offer and all.

Luke was charming, you had to give him that, charmed you into letting him attend training one first day despite not being healed properly yet. And then, half an hour later after he left the infirmary, one of your siblings brought him in—one of his wounds that you patched up, bleeding and was unconscious after insisting that he was okay minutes ago. Annoyed, you put him on bed rest. When he woke up hours later, he insisted to be let go—wanting to prove he can be better than that Ares kid he sparred with.

“Come on, doc, I’m okay now!” Luke raised his arm, but winced at the pain beneath his underarm. “See?”

“You are going to lay in that bed and you are going to rest. Doctor’s orders.” You simply said, humming a song as you checked his wounds for any infection.

“But-”

“One more word out of you, and I’ll curse you with bubonic plague.” You said, stuffing a cube of ambrosia in his mouth, smiling sweetly at him.

Luke chuckled, raising his hands up—wincing through it—in defeat. “Alright, doctor melody.”

“What?” you asked, brow raised in confusion. “Melody?”

“You’ve been humming, you know, while fixing me and Annabeth up last night. And you did it again, just seconds ago.” Luke explained with a small smile. “Aren't the children of Apollo good at music too? Like, singing? Since he’s the god of music and all.”

“Yeah, he is,” You smiled, reaching to hold the sun shaped locket dangling from your neck. “Apollo, god of the sun, archery, art, music, poetry and a shit ton more.”

“Can you sing for me, melody?” Luke grinned, sitting up. “C’mon, it’ll make me feel better, promise.”

“I’m not gonna get out of this, am I?” You ask, laughing softly.

Luke shook his head. “I’m stubborn, I’ll just ask you again and again, so you might as well do it now, melody.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “Aren’t you just charming,”

“I’m waiting, doc,” Luke teased. “I can’t wait for an eternity like the gods.”

You shook your head, a giggle escaping your lips. “Fine, fine, but do you promise to rest your stubborn ass for the night?”

Luke nodded. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Okay, here goes nothing,” You muttered, taking a deep breath. “And they called it puppy love. Oh I guess they'll never know.

How a young heart really feels and why I love him so…”

Luke started clapping his hands. “Damn, melody, that was amazing!”

“Oh, shush,” You waved a hand dismissively, feeling your cheeks heat up like the sun, as if your dad kissed you on the cheek. “I’m not that good.”

Luke raised a brow. “And I thought Apollo was the god of truth,”

“I am telling the truth,” You insisted, folding your arms over your chest.

“Whatever you say, melody.”

From then on, you and Luke have been friends. Never one without the other, the two of you made it a pact.

“Michael and Lee are getting better with swords,” Luke commented as the two of you watched your younger siblings.

“Better?” You snorted, tying your hair up in a ponytail. “They are far from getting better, charming.”

Luke reached up to mess your hair. “You saying my methods aren’t great, miss melody?” he asked, feigning annoyance.

You hit him playfully on the shoulder. “All I’m saying is those kids,” you jerked your head to Michael and Lee, who were getting ready to duel like medieval princes as Dawn laughed her ass off. “Are shit with a sword.”

“Fair point,” Luke chuckled. “Let’s just hope they learned a thing or two from me.”

“If not?” You asked with a raised brow, passing him a bottle of strawberry flavored energy drink. Your hand grazed with his, sending shivers down your spine, better than any cold could.

“At least they have you,” Luke gave you a lopsided grin, opening the bottle of red sugary liquid and bringing it to his lips to quench his thirst. You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he downed the energy drink, the beads of sweat on his forehead and neck made him even—if possible—more handsome, making you gulp and look away.

“Yeah,” You squeaked out, your eyes widening at the tone of your voice, mentally slapping yourself for it. “They’ve got the best sister.”

“Damn right, they do,” Luke agreed, capping the now empty bottle. “You are the best sister Lee, Michael, Dawn, and the rest of your siblings could have, melody.”

You smiled, pushing out a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks, charming,”

“No need to thank me, melody. I mean, it is the truth. That you are the best sister to your siblings and bestest friend to me.”

You felt your heart break a little. You wanted to be more than just being best friends with Luke. You wanted to be his muse, the girl he loves until his final breath. Maybe Aphrodite had cursed you or something, because Luke never saw you more than a friend or a sister.

“I’m the best,” You agreed, trying your best not to sound sad or anything about your feelings for him slip out.

“You hungry? I think it’s lunch time.”

You nodded, fixing your hair back up in a ponytail. “Yeah, you?”

“Starving, like I could eat a pegasus. Come on, let’s get some lunch and eat by the docks.” Luke stood up, stretching his arms and legs. “You comin’?” He asked, offering his hand to help you stand.

“Of course,” You beamed, reaching for his hand. “Let’s.”

You followed Luke out of the arena, before yelling over your shoulder. “Dawn, you’re in charge of the boys! Don’t let them die!”

“Yeah, Dawn! Don’t let ‘em die!” Luke yelled over to Dawn with a laugh as the two of you strolled away, leaving your siblings and a few other campers at the arena.

“Race you to the mess?” You challenged, a teasing grin on your face.

“Not fair, Y/n!” Luke scowled as you started to run ahead. “I just trained kids!”

“Too bad, Lukey,” You stuck out your tongue at him. “Last one there cleans the stables!”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Luke scoffed as you ran ahead of him, laughing as he easily caught up to you. “I’m not cleaning the stables!” He said, lifting you up with his strong arms and placing you on his shoulder, making you yelp.

“Put me down!” You giggled, playfully hitting his toned back.

“I don’t think so, Miss L/n,” Luke then ran towards the dining pavilion, with you still on his shoulder, screaming like an enraged harpy.

“Luke Castellan!” You shrieked, gripping his shirt for dear life, earning the amused looks of other campers. “Put me down, put me down!”

“Your voice sounds better when you aren’t screaming, you know that?” Luke commented, his pace slowing to a brisk walk.

You hit him hard on his back, again and again. “Put me down, Castellan! Now!”

“Ouch, woman, that hurt!” Luke grumbled, finally relenting and putting you down on the ground, just a meter away from the pavilion.

You pinched him on the side. “You son of a bitch!”

“Ouch!” Luke yelped, jumping slightly. “Violence is never the answer, woman!”

“Violence is never the answer,” You mocked him, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want, thank you very much.”

“Fine, fine, let’s just get food,” Luke placed his hands on his hips, catching his breath for a minute. “All that running with you on my shoulder got me extra hungry.”

“You’re the one who lifted me like I don’t weigh a thing!” You retorted, pushed him slightly. “I literally weigh like a minotaur!”

“Nah,” Luke dismissed, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “You don’t weigh that much. Stop thinking that you are.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled, making your way to the long table where all the food the dryads made for the day are served.

An array of food greets you as soon as you arrive at the table, Luke two steps behind you. There were bowls of fruit—strawberries, apples, and grapes—bread in all sorts of shapes and sizes, a container of mac and cheese (which you know has broccoli and carrots blended in to sneak vegetables in picky eaters’ food), and some other options.

“Look, there’s some waffles and pancakes,” Luke pointed to a platter of said breakfast items beside some yogurt parfaits and (tofu) sausage.

“You go get the waffles and pancakes along with some yogurt and ask Lily for some extra,” You pointed to the yellow haired dryad, Lily. “I'll go get the fruit and bread. You want some mac?”

“Nope.” Luke said, already making his way to the waffles and pancakes.

You chuckled, shaking your head before heading over to Juniper, a red haired dryad in charge of the fruit and bread.

“Hey, Junie,” You greeted, smiling at the dryad. “Got something for me?”

“Just these,” Juniper pointed to the array of pastries and bread. “Mr. D allowed the Demeter kids to get some croissants and tarts from a bakery in Manhattan.”

“Oooh,” Your mouth was already watering as you eyed the lemon and blueberry tart and those flaky croissants. “Can you put some in a picnic basket? Luke and I are going on a picnic by the docks.”

Juniper smiled brightly. “Are you and Luke going out on a date?”

You choked on your own saliva. “What?”

“You know, have you told him about your feelings yet? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now? That’s what boyfriend and girlfriend do, right? Dates?”

“Shh!” You quickly shushed your friend. “No, I haven’t told him yet! He doesn’t know!”

Juniper frowned. “It’s so obvious you like him,”

“He’s stupid, I know.” You sighed, picking up a strawberry.

“Your siblings and those Aphrodite kids figured out you liked him years ago.” Juniper said as she filled up a picnic basket with tarts and croissants along with strawberries, grapes, and apples.

“Maybe one day,” You smiled, a hopeful look in your eyes. “When Aphrodite decides to reward me with a perfect love life.”

“I’ll pray to Aphrodite for you,” Juniper smiled, boosting your confidence up. “You deserve to be loved.”

“Thanks, Junie.”

“No worries, your secret is safe with me.” Juniper chuckled, she then passed you the picnic basket filled with food, looking almost like a cornucopia. “Here you go, packed and loaded for a picnic.”

You gave Juniper a grateful nod, mouthing a quick thank you before turning to go and find Luke, the picnic basket locked in both of your hands.

You walk towards Lily the dryad’s station, but Luke wasn’t there anymore. Instead, you walked around the large dining area, eyes scanning the place for your curly haired best friend.

When you finally spot him, your heart sinks.

Luke was talking and laughing with a girl. A girl you know to be a child of Athena, a sister of Annabeth Chase.

You felt the picnic basket in your hands grow heavy, along with your heart feeling like it’s slowly sinking into a bottomless pit.

Lacy Matthews—pretty, smart, beautiful, kind, stunning, intelligent.

Nothing like me.

Luke leaned on one of the pillars of the pavilion, eyes steady on Lacy as she discussed with him about something—probably architecture, like Annabeth would always ramble to you.

Hair gold as the sun, eyes gray as stormy clouds, skin like puff pastry, and a mind sharp as blade, no wonder Luke would like her.

You contemplate, whether you walk to Luke and disturb his talk with Lacy, or just walk to the docks alone and eat the food Juniper packed as you cry your heart out. Maybe pray to Aphrodite while you’re at it.

You sigh, taking a very deep breath, before making your way to them with shaking hands.

“Luke?” You ask as soon as you’re in earshot. “You ready for the docks?”

Lacy looks at you first, smiling sweetly at you. “Oh, hi Y/n! How are you?”

You stood there, silent for a minute. Feeling a myriad of feelings all at once, taking you over like a spirit. “I’m….okay.” you answer after what felt like eons.

“Your skin hair looks amazing,” Lacy compliments you, but it feels more like bullets on skin. “I wish I had your hair.”

You give her a tight smile, turning your attention to Luke. “Docks?” you ask, hoping he’d get the gist of it.

“Oh, Y/n,” Luke scratches the back of his head, your heart breaking another of its pieces at the mention of your name. He always calls you melody, your name feels like poison out of his lips. “Can we take a rain check? Lacy and Annabeth need help with cleaning cabin six, you know, books.”

“Tonight, then?” You ask with a shaky breath. “After the bonfire?”

“Tomorrow, l guess?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll see you? I guess.”

You quickly turned around, the basket of fruits and pastries still in your shaking hands as you made a beeline towards the nearest exit, your heart beating fast like pegasi galloping in the wind. Your eyes stinging like a fresh cut you wanted to just drown in antiseptic.

“Y/n?” You heard a small voice from behind, you whipped your head to see your little brother, Will Solace. “I cut my hand on a sword.” he mumbles, lower lip shaking like yours.

You kneel to his level, the basket still in your hands like they had their own minds, refusing to let it go—maybe hoping that Luke would reconsider and go with you to the docks instead, but you knew deep inside that it was a long shot.

“Okay,” your voice was hoarse, as if there were thorns blocking the back of your throat. “Let’s get you fixed, is that alright?”

Will nodded, blonde hair falling into his face, blue eyes hiding underneath them, making you chuckle. At least I have something else to think about for the meantime.

“Come on,” You reach your hand out for Will to take. “Let’s get some cute band aids for that cut.”

Crying on the docks would have to wait.

Will takes your hand as the two of you head to cabin seven where you keep a box of medical supplies just in case. You didn’t feel like going to the Infirmary, you were just too tired to do so.

“Why are you sad, sissy?” Will asks, big innocent blue eyes looking up at you.

“It’s nothing, I just have dry eyes. Think I need some eye drops.” You answered the younger boy, trying not to be, well, sad.

“I can feel that you’re sad, you don’t have to lie to me, sissy.” You look at your brother, how in Apollo’s name did he know? He was only seven, and wasn't even trained properly yet.

You sighed, pushing out the hair from Will’s face. “I’m just bummed.” you answered honestly, at least you tried to.

“Why?” He asks further. “Maybe I can help.”

You took a deep breath. How do you explain to a child that you are sad and hurt because the boy you like chose a girl over you, his best friend. “I’ll tell you when we get to our cabin, alright?”

“Okay,” Will agreed. “I’m gonna do my best to help you sissy!”

You tried suppressing a laugh, but failed miserably. Will was like a literal ball of sunshine. Since he arrived at camp a little over a year ago, he’d become a beacon of hope for you. You’d cling to your little brother when shit goes wrong for comfort, and he did the same, it was like you had an empathy link with him.

As soon as the two of you stepped onto cabin seven’s premises, you let Will run to his bed—he wanted to get the macaroni bracelet he made you—while you went to get your medical supplies.

“Look, sissy! I made this for you! I made one for Dawn too, and Lee and Michael!” Will excitedly showed you a blue and yellow colored macaroni bracelet. “Do you like it?”

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “I love it,” You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist. “I’ll never take it off.” you promised the little boy—who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Okay, so are you gonna tell me now why you’re sad?” Will asked, straight to the point like an arrow through a bullseye.

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you dug through your medical kit for some bandaids. “Luke and I planned earlier that we’d head to the docks to have a little picnic, but last minute…he, uh…”

“He what?” Will pushes further, peeking as you went through looking for your medical kit.

“He kinda ditched me? I don’t know if that’s the appropriate word, but instead of going with the original plan, he asked for a raincheck to go and help Lacy from cabin six clean out their cabin.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Will looked up at you as you poured antiseptic on a cotton ball, wiping it on his cut. “He’s helping others.”

“Oh, sweet baby boy,” You sighed, remembering that Will was still a child. “I like Luke—no, maybe I love him at this point. And I’m sad because I’m jealous and he chose to be with her after he asked me to a picnic that I was looking forward to, because I wanted to spend time with him.” You took a deep breath. “Even if I didn’t have romantic feelings for him, it still hurt because he picked her over me, he was my best friend first before everything.”

“What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, brow raised as you placed a bandaid on the cut.

“Are you mad at Luke? Do you wanna prank him because you are? Or curse him to be sick for a week?”

“William Andrew Solace!” You chastised, shocked at what he had suggested.

“What? He hurt you, he deserves it.”

“He hurt me, yes, but he does not deserve any of what you suggested, William.”

“He hurt my best big sissy, so he deserves it.” Will muttered under his breath.

“William,” You sighed, tucking behind a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What he did was wrong, as a friend. But I don’t have any right to be angry at him for liking Lacy, I’m just his friend, nothing more.”

Will’s face softened. “You deserve everything, sissy,” he then reached up, placing each of his hands on both of your cheeks. “You are the best sister in the whole world. You deserve to be loved, like the way you love me and everyone else.”

You smiled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes, your heart swelling with love from your little brother. You may not have the love of the boy you loved, at least you had your brother’s making up for it, masking up the heartbreak, even just for a little while.

“Alright,” You wiped away a single tear. “You’re all fixed.” you pat him on the cheek, wiping the sweat away on his forehead.

“I love you, sissy!” Will says as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you too, kiddo,” You chuckle, ruffling his blonde curls, kissing his forehead. “Go find Dawn, she’s at the arena. Watch Lee and Michael duel like idiots. Don’t tell them I told you that.”

Will nodded enthusiastically, before sprinting out of cabin seven. “See you later, sissy!”

You let out a shaky laugh, feeling the loneliness eat you up as quick as it left. Your eyes landed onto the basket with food still packed for two.

Luke still wasn’t going with you down to the docks.

You choked back a sob, grabbing the basket and your guitar and notebook from your bed before heading out to the docks. You might as well kill time until the bonfire, alone with your breaking heart.

You didn’t stop at anyone, walking straight to the beach with your guitar strapped onto your back and the basket wrapped between your arms. You just didn’t have the will to talk to anyone, even your friends and siblings.

The salty smell of the sea breeze infiltrated your senses as you approached the beach, the docks that you and Luke always hung out at nearing your view. You took a deep breath, letting the soft breeze take over you as you stepped onto the wooden platform, the waves crashing beneath it. You set down the basket, sitting beside it as you pulled your guitar to the front, your fingers lightly strumming a little tune—one you knew like the back of your hand, the song Luke always asked you to play.

“'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be,” You sang, trying your hardest not to just break down despite the tears you had been pushing back were threatening to spill. “Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet and you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street,” you sniffled softly. “So I'm not moving, I'm not moving.”

You can’t help but wonder what would Luke do when you leave camp for good. Would he be sad? That you, his best friend, gone with the wind? Or would he ask you to stay?

You wished that you didn’t know the answers to your own questions your own damn mind plagues you with. You wished that he knew he was all that you think about every goddamn night, that he was the reason for those teardrops on your guitar, that he was the only thing that kept you wishing on a wishing star.

You sighed, grabbing your blue notebook that you had slid inside the basket and the pen you had packed alongside it. You needed to let it out, even just on another tear streaked paper.

You hummed a little melody as you continued to write what you felt, your chest burning with untold stories.

“Hey, sunshine,” You heard a voice call from behind you, whipping your head around almost immediately, nearly dropping your notebook into the sea.

“Chris,” You gave him a small smile, adjusting the strap of your guitar.

“Mind if I join you?” Chris asks, walking closer to you but stops a few steps from you with a grin plastered on his face.

You quickly closed your notebook, stuffing it in the picnic basket. “I don’t mind,” You scooted to the side to give him some space to sit, your hair blowing in the gentle sea breeze.

Chris nods at you, making his way to the vacant spot beside you. “So, what are you up to?” he asks, leaning slightly back. “You weren’t at archery practice earlier.”

You shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Just wanted some time alone, I guess.” you turn to look at the basket sitting unopened beside you, wondering if you should offer Chris one of the pastries. “What about you?”

“Luke,” Chris chuckles, he rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “Can’t stand him making out with Lacy in cabin eleven.”

“Oh.” You say, the pain and sadness slipping out in your voice, your heart, now broken completely as another fresh set of tears threatens to spill. “Well, good…good for him.”

Chris raises a brow at you, noticing the tremble in your voice. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” You lied, wiping away the tears that spilled from your eyes, hoping Chris wouldn’t notice. “Do…do you want, uh, a croissant?”

“You are not okay,” Chris says, pulling your hand away from your face. “You’re crying, what’s wrong?”

“No, no, it’s nothing,” You sniffled, trying to assure him that you were alright, but he wasn’t believing any of your attempts to cover up what you were feeling.

“C’mon, you can tell me,” Chris tells you with a soft smile. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

You turn to look at him, your eyes now red and puffy, tears still streaming down. You felt numb, broken, and empty. You didn’t have the words to try and tell what was happening inside your heart and mind. All you could see, against your will, was the image of Luke kissing Lacy.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to jump onto your feet and storm over to Luke and hit him for hurting you this much, and you even wanted to just jump into the ocean and let the salty water fill up your lungs so you couldn’t breathe the same air as them.

“You like him, don’t you?” Chris asks, his smile fading.

You blink back your tears, Chris’ words echoing in your head. “I love him.” you whimper, wiping your tears away.

Chris sighs, scooting closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I knew it, I figured you liked him years ago. I’ve known you and Luke long enough to know how different your looks at each other are.”

You lay your head onto his shoulder, your tears spilling still as you silently sobbed. “It’s not fair,” you mumble out. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, let it all out, it’s okay.” Chris soothes, rubbing your shoulder to comfort you. “You’re hurt, you deserve to cry.”

“Am I ugly? Unlovable?” You ask with a shaky breath.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Chris cups your tear streaked face in his hands. “You are not unlovable. You’re the kindest, most selfless, and loving person out there. You help everyone in need, you make people smile, and don’t get me started with how your music makes everyone feel. How would that make you unlovable? You are very lovable. You are loved, your siblings, your friends, everyone.”

Chris pushes strands of your hair away from your face. “And you are most certainly not ugly. You are beautiful. You are beautiful like the sun, like a sunflower, especially when you smile—radiating beauty like rays of sunshine. Luke is too fucking stupid to not realize how lucky he is to have you loving him.”

“The boy who I love is now in love with someone else,” You murmur, moving your head out of Chris’ hand, closing your eyes. “He’s the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart.”

“It’s his loss, not yours.” Chris says, rubbing circles around your back. “He’s a fucking idiot, for hurting you. Even if he doesn’t know.”

“She’s pretty, I’m n-”

“Stop it, stop,” Chris cuts you off. “You are beautiful, pretty, stunning, dazzling, whatever the hell you want to call it. Don’t you dare compare yourself to her, you are far better than her. She’s beauty and brains, but you? Beauty, brains, talent, and a big heart.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” You hiccup, wiping your tears away.

Chris scoffs playfully, shoving you slightly. “I’m trying to comfort you, woman.”

“Thanks,” You chuckle, moving your hand to the basket beside you. “Want a croissant?”

“Eating your sorrows away, huh?”

You rolled your still red and puffy eyes at him. “I’ve got a basket full of it,” You explained, bringing the basket onto your lap and opening it, the smell of the pastries mixing with the salty ocean breeze. “Luke and I planned to eat these here, but bailed on me to help Lacy.”

“That son of a bitch,” Chris grumbles, reaching for a croissant. “Wasting food and bailing on his best friend.”

“I mean, Hermes is a bitch,” You snort, picking a blueberry tart up. “So, technically…”

“Yeah, well,” Chris bites into his croissant, crumbles falling into his lap. “I’m not one to dump my best friend for a girl.”

“Not even for Clarisse?” You ask, a teasing smirk on your lips.

“Clarisse would beat me into a pulp if I did.”

You smile at Chris. “Thanks for being here, even by chance.”

“I’ll always be here for you, sunshine,” Chris ruffles your hair, making you laugh. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Thank you for making me feel important,” You took a deep breath. “I needed that.”

“You are important, never think that you aren’t.” Chris gives you an assuring smile. “So, is the tart good?”

You let out a giggle, your eyes going to the tart in your hands. “I think so,” You raise the blueberry tart to your lips for a bite, your eyes lighting up. “Mmm, gods this is good!”

Chris laughs at your reaction. “Good, huh?”

You nod, licking your lips. “It’s divine, better than cookies!” You say, taking another bite. “This is my new favorite dessert!”

“There’s the sunshine I know,” Chris chuckles, an amused look in his eyes. “The light in everyone’s lives.”

“Now you’re just fueling my ego,” You giggle, reaching for another tart.

“It’s true,” Chris insists. “Ask anyone—except Luke, ‘cause he’s an idiot—and they’ll say the same things I told you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, raising your hands in defeat. “Fine, fine,” You say through a bite of your tart. “You win.”

“I’m amazing,” Chris says with a cocky smile. “The best, even.”

You groaned playfully. “Note to self, never tell Chris Rodriguez he’s right.”

“Hey!”

You burst out laughing, nearly falling off of the dock as you leaned forward if Chris hadn’t grabbed your arm. “Sorry,” You say through fits of laughter, the sadness and hurt you felt just moments ago, fluttering away. “You get…wait,” you wheeze out, clutching your stomach. “So cocky when someone tells you you’re right, but you end up looking constipated!”

Chris gasped, feigning offense. “Take that back!”

You shook your head, laughter still coming out of your lips. “Never!”

“I hate you,“ Chris fake grumbles, an amused look twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a meanie!”

You burst out laughing, again

“Yeah, go ahead and laugh your ass off, sunshine,” Chris shoves you playfully. “It’s the best medicine out there!”

Out of breath, cheeks flushed, you leaned flat against the wood platform. “Chest hurts,” You wheezed, though still smiling.

“Well, you did laugh like a fuckin’ lunatic, sunshine.”

“How am I going to sing at the bonfire tonight?” You say through breaths, mentally kicking yourself for not bringing any water—despite being surrounded by it.

“You can do it,” Chris assured you as he laid beside you, leaving enough space that you’re not uncomfortable. “I know you can. You’re camp’s best singer, you can’t fuck up the best thing you’re good at.”

“You think so?”

“You’ve been singing for as long as we’ve been friends, sunshine,” Chris yawns, stretching his arms up. “Pretty sure, you’re gonna nail this, like you always do.

You were regretting your decision to come to the bonfire.

Here you were, sitting beside your siblings, across Luke and Lacy—arms linked together like they’d perish if they didn’t.

The mere sight of them shamelessly flirting made you want to vomit everything you ate, and maybe even your brains out. It was sickening, how Luke smiles as Lacy whispers something into his ear, her delicate fingers around his biceps.

You wanted to walk up to him and drag him by the ribbon on his left arm—which was one of Lacy’s probably, watch him burn into ashes, but decided against it. Because, one) Hestia wouldn’t approve of it, two) well, he’s still the love of your life and best friend.

It was torture for you, watching them be happy. It makes you wonder, how the hell did they get that close. They had started talking just hours ago, but now? They looked like lovers reunited after the war.

What was so special about her? You ask yourself again, even though you knew the goddamn answer. Smart, sexy, Lacy. God, she was making you crazy. Dazzling starlet, like a Bardot reincarnate. And then there you were—messy hair, paint stains everywhere, guitar string marks, flab on your belly and arms, band aids in your pockets, basically nothing like her.

Luke looks at her as if she was the sweetest thing on this side of hell, like she was the greatest thing to ever exist in this world.

Like ribbons in her blonde hair, your stomach was all in knots. She’s got the one thing that you ever wanted, wrapped around her finger without even trying.

The fire continued to burn golden-orange flames as your siblings led the song Down by the Aegean, everyone was happy and content, except for you.

Jealousy lingered around you like a moth drawn to the flame. Making it hard for you to concentrate on anything else aside from Lacy laying her head on Luke’s shoulder as he toasted marshmallows for both of them. The thought of them plagued your mind, despite trying everything to keep it away from your thoughts.

Stupid brain, stupid heart, stupid Luke, stupid Lacy, stupid love.

“Hey, sis?” A voice snapped you out of your insecure thoughts. You looked up to see Lee standing just a few inches to your right, looking at you with concern. “You okay?” He asks, his voice laced with worry. You then realized that everyone had stopped singing, and all eyes were on you—except those lovebirds who were making googly eyes at each other, as if they were the only person left on this damned world.

“Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” You say through gritted teeth, hoping no one would notice.

“It’s time for your special song, sissy.” Will nudges you from your left side.

Oh. You thought. They were waiting for you.

“Oh, right,” You chuckled nervously, reaching for your guitar from Dawn.

You didn’t know what to sing. All the thoughts and memories in your head seem to have faded into dust.

You shakily strum a chord on your guitar, your fingers gliding over the metal strings. The guitar was a gift from your dad, enchanted to play whatever you had in mind with just a few strums of your fingers.

You sigh, letting your fingers do all the work, hoping you could give the people around you your best.

I can see us lost in the memory,

August slipped away into a moment in time

‘Cause it was never mine.

And I can see us twisted in bed sheets,

August sipped away.

Like a bottle of wine 'cause you were never mine,

You sang, the words coming out of your lips so naturally, all of what you felt pouring out like water. You saw the sympathetic eyes of your friends from the other cabins—the ones who knew about your feelings for Luke.

Your siblings were trying their best not to give you the biggest hug in the whole world, especially Will, who was sitting beside you.

Some were confused as to why you were singing about some boy because you’ve never done it before. They hadn’t thought that you had feelings, too.

Back when we were still changing for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

“Shit,” You heard someone curse from cabin nine. “The fire’s blue!”

You look up, blazing blue, meeting your eyes. Hestia’s fire had never burned blue before.

“Beckendorf, this isn’t funny!” Someone yells in the background, amongst the whispers.

“We’re not doing…..anything,” Beckendorf trails off, as if he had been silenced all of a sudden.

To everyone’s surprise, the blue—almost black—flames burning in the firepit started to get bigger and bigger, as if they were swaying to the tune as you played.

To live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call

And say "Meet me behind the mall"

And finally, as you finished up the song, from the corner of your eyes, a sore sight to behold. Luke and Lacy were making out, and they couldn’t have waited to even be out of sight—barely a meter away—before devouring each other’s faces.

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

You weren't mine to lose, no

You weren't mine to lose.

Luke grabs Lacy’s waist, pulling her closer. They looked happy, and it was tearing you apart. They were killing you slowly, like a dagger was lodged in your throat, and they were twisting it.

Cause you were never mine, never mine…

You felt tears filling your eyes like a dam, and anytime was ready to explode. But, forced them back down—at least, you tried to—hoping to save a little more dignity for your name.

Lacy has everything that you have to live without. She should hold him tight, and give him all her love. Look at him straight in those beautiful brown eyes and know she's lucky because Luke was your everything—your life, your world, everything.

As the image of them faded from your peripheral view, you stared into the blazing fire in front of you. Now, red, blue, and black flames were dancing together, almost as if Hestia could feel what you were feeling.

You sigh, placing the guitar down, feeling arms wrap around you. You look up, seeing Chris, camp necklace dangling from his neck. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmurs, rubbing both of your shoulders.

“You want me to put his head on my spear, Sunny?” Clarisse asks, sitting opposite of Will. “One word from you, and I’ll skewer him.”

“You’re overwhelming her, Clar,” Chris says. “You don’t deserve this, sunshine. Yet, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Do you want to spend the night with us, love?” Silena asks from beside Clarisse. “A little girls' night could help.”

You shake your head, the tears you’ve pushed aside spilling like an opened dam. “I’m okay,” you say, clearly lying. You knew your friends could always see through your lies.

“Come on, let’s take her to seven. She needs rest.” Your brother, Lee, interrupts. “She looks dehydrated; why the fuck is she dehydrated?”

“Language,” you weakly say, the view of the fire blurring. “Swearing, s’bad.”

“And delirious,” Dawn mutters beside Lee, holding Will close to her.

Before you could retort a reply, your vision slowly went dark, and faint voices were screaming before you completely passed out.

Luke was immediately jolted awake from his honeymoon daze by the sounds of frantic screams and yells, just a few steps away from him and Lacy.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Lacy asks, her delicate hands cupping his face, lips swollen from kissing just a few seconds ago.

“You heard that?” Luke asks, pushing her slightly to the side. “I heard screami-”

Luke cuts himself off at what he sees.

Chris is sprinting to the Big House with you, unconscious in his arms. Luke’s heart starts to beat rapidly—faster than ever before—as his legs subconsciously take him in your direction.

“Melody.”

Lacy stands there as Luke makes his way to you, huffing and arms crossed in annoyance. “What the hell, Luke!?” She yells after him, but it’s like he hears nothing.

taglist:

@lilmaymayy @mischiefmoons @m00ng4z3r @woodlandwrites @sflame15-blog @the-sylver-dragon @ceruleansx @evsolostheuniverse @patitotodd @jennapancake @kur0m1sblog @emryb @onecojg @caramelandvenus @y0urm0m12 @hottiewifeyyyy @7s3ven @atashiboba

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lewisvinga · 2 months

Text

an old friend | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; y/n and charles used to be best friends and even had crushes on each other until she had to move away to england at 13. but thanks to her job as an influencer, she’s invited to the miami gp where there she reunited with a childhood friend.

fc; merveyano

warnings; ? idk maybe a suggestive comment

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested !

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; guess where i’m goingggg] [caption 2; monacoooo!! hoping to meet some old friends here 😁]

yourbestfriend replied to your story !

yourbestfriend just say ur still in love w charles

yourusername i’m not in love 😭😭 besides i was just a 13 yr old girl w a crush🤒🤒🤒

yourbestfriend yeah and he got rid of that bieber cut and he’s a cutie now

yourbestfriend and ferrari invited you, there’s your chance! 😁

yourusername i just wanna be friends w him again, i don’t necessarily need to date him😐

yourbestfriend yeah but like i said, he’s a cutie

yourusername i mean…. true🫢

yourusername i’m sure he has tons of models wanting him though, i just miss my old best friend!

yourbestfriend OUCH wow🤕🤕

yourusername c’mon y/b/f😕😕

yourbestfriend set me up w lando norris and i’ll forgive you ( and kiss charles )

yourusername ????? Y/B/F??

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc, and others !

yourusername: monaco u were amazing as always n that ferrari dining hall is fire 🔥

tagged; scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc

yourbestfriend: and that d is fireeeee🔥🔥 ( was it tho ??? )

yourusername: y/b/f ur on a timeout.

username: help the second picture ??

username: my role model😍😍

username: base is always flawlessssss

username: the 🫶 around charles she’s just like me lmfaoooo

charles_leclerc: glad to show you where the best food on the paddock is😎😎 your love for pasta never went away, huh?

yourusername: cha i have a bowl of pasta at least once a day since i was 10 🥸🥸🍝🍝

username: omg charles and y/n????

username:gorgeous gorgeous girls are f1 fans 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

scuderiaferrari: we loved having you in our garage 😎❤️

yourusername: tysm for inviting me🥹🥹

charles_leclerc: YES thank you thank you😁

username: y/n and charles knew each other from before?

yourusername: he’s an old friend !😁

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; the photographer] [caption 2; the outcome 😸]

yourbestfriend replied to your story !

yourbestfriend so did y’all kiss?

yourusername noooooo

yourbestfriend LIAR

yourusername he took me out for lunch then we maybe shared a kiss or two 🥸🥸

yourbestfriend LIARRE

yourusername okay definitely more than 2 kisses😁

yourusername so maybe i still did have a crush on him and maybe he had a crush on me this whole 🤓

yourbestfriend TOLD UUU

yourbestfriend now wyd talking to me go kiss mr. cutie

yourusername u don’t gotta tell me twice 🫡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend and others !

yourusername: i forza’d his ferrari

tagged; charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: i’d let you forza my ferrari anyday 😊

landonorris: i have a feeling this has a different meaning,..

yourbestfriend: you’re definitely right (heyyyyyy)

yourusername: 🤫

username: the caption???? i’m???

username: WOW she’s so pretty i can’t

username: charles 🤤

username: girls who drive ferraris>>>

username: she sprinkle sprinkled too hard n is now a wag

yourusername: the best type of sprinkle sprinkle 😇😇😇

username: QUEEEEN

username: she’s a ferrari gyal now

username: ugh she is the moment 😍

francisca.cgomes: miss u sm!!!🥹

yourusername: miss u too😢 next time we hang out just us girls so we don’t third wheel our bfs💆‍♀️

pierregasly: hey now, it wasn’t like that!

francisca.cgomes: ….. i’m not even saying anything 😁

charles_leclerc: ??????? what

yourusername: so true bae so true

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc scenarios #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

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joelsmochi · 3 months

Text

honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

#SORRY THIS IS KINDA RUSHED UMMM #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou smut

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violetarks · 3 months

Text

"they don't love me like you do!"

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

summary: despite the countless valentines day offers he receives, satoru will only ever accept one confession. but you're confessing... to his best friend?

warnings: g/n! reader, they/them pronouns used, high school! au

"please accept these chocolates, gojo!" says the girl in front of him. satoru casually pulls down his glasses enough to see the red, heart-shaped cardboard box.

"oh, uh... thank you." he awkwardly says. this girl was two year below him, judging by the colours of her indoor shoes. he didn't even know her name. "this is... a surprise."

"i've liked you ever since orientation day. i hope you like these." she says with a nervous grin. she's stiff as he takes them out of her hands, standing up straight to stare at the tall man. "thank you for always being so funny and helping everyone you can."

"ah, you're welcome." he says, tucking the chocolates and the letter taped to it under his arm. luckily, the lunch bell had rung and everyone should've been off to enjoy their break. "well, i'll... see you around."

"b—bye, gojo!" she calls, waving at him as he walks the other way. he gives a kind smile before he turns the corner, dropping it immediately.

on the way to class, multiple other students watched him as he carelessly skimmed through the letter before stuffing it in his book bag, ready to throw it (and the others) away once home. valentines day was this week and it was two days before it today. yet satoru had received tons of confession letters and date proposals, none of which he had the intention of accepting.

plopping down in his chair, he groans, hanging his head, "ugh! i hate being so loveable..."

suguru rolls his eyes, outting his book down. "here we go again." he grunts, shaking his head.

"seriously! why can't i be left alone around valentines day?" he questions out lout, pulling his lunch box from his bag.

shoko bites into her sandwich as she listens to him. as she swallows, she retorts, "maybe it's because you flirt with every living being on earth." satoru sends him a pointed look. "so how many letters today?"

"seven." satoru responds, knocking his bag.

"and?"

"none of them were from y/n." he sighs out, picking up his chopsticks.

"wait, y/n?" suguru pipes up, putting his juicebox down, "as in y/n from class d?"

the blue-eyed boy raises a brow, halting his movements. "uh, yeah? l/n y/n." he recalls to his friend, tilting his head, "what? i've been talking about 'em for the past three months—suguru, have you been listening to me at all?"

"oh!" the dark-haired boy chuckles, nodding his head, "i know y/n. we're in the same literature class."

satoru stares at him in disbelief. the other students surrounding them are in their own little world, but the three of them didn't even mind them hearing if they tried. shoko continues to eat her food while suguru shrugs at his friend.

"are you kidding me?" satoru gasps out, waving a hand in the air, "i've been trying to get with them for three months and you tell me this just now?"

"you should've been more specific, man." suguru retorts, waving it off, "anyway, you gonna' ask them to be your valentine?"

satoru sighs loudly, hanging his head back, "i don't know... we only share bio together, i bet there's a lot of people who have asked them to be their valentine. they probably won't even accept mine."

shoko purses her lips and stretches her arms. "i don't know about that." she claims, "you're a pretty guy and everyone knows you. i doubt they'd pass up the chance to revel in that popularity."

"... thanks, shoko."

soon enough, the bell rings and the day goes on.

the next day, satoru notices something in your hand during biology class.

"whatchu' got there, y/n?" he asks, peaking over your shoulder. he sat behind you, enough room to see the handwritten letter you were writing.

"satoru!" you jump a little, covering the page. he furrows his brow. "it's, uh... i'm just writng something."

"is it... for valentines day tomorrow?" he inquires, curious to who was the lucky person. but you were still hiding it from him!

"no, of course not." you were lying, he could tell by the way you look to the left. a pout falls on his lips. "it's notes. for another class."

"oh... okay." he responds, a bit disappointed. why would you lie to him? he sits back in his chair, writing down some paragraphs from the textbook mindlessly. he saw the way your elbow quickly shifted, you were writing faster. your head was down too, never looking up. you were so concentrated.

he's known you for a couple of months now. you bumped into him on the way to school, and you admitted to him that you were a bit lost since you didn't live around here. satoru, being the gentleman he is, offered to escort you. you thought he was some creep (he tried reaching to hold your hand and when you jerked away on instinct, he played it off as it being the wind).

but once realising you two shared some classes together, you grew fond of him. you knew of the countless students throwing themselves at him. both older and younger. he was the school heartthrob. it's a shame though, only your smile could make his heart race like he makes others do.

when you gave him your lucky pen when he told you he didn't study and he was freaking out, you had this kind smile that made him think 'i don't want anyone else to see this but me'.

and he noticed that you awkwardly took it back from him, looking away as he clasped your hands tightly in the filled hallway and thanked you. your reactions were just the cutest...

when the bell rings, you perk up, putting your 'notes' in a suspicious looking envelope and signing it off with something. you stand up and satoru is quick to walk by your side when a classmates holds his arm to talk.

"huh?" satoru grunts, furrowed brows.

"gojo, i... i wanted to give you this." they say, holding out a teddy-bear saying 'be my valentine!'. satoru frowned when he took it. "you don't have to answer today... just let me know tomorrow, please."

as they continue to talk, he sees you exit the classroom. the letter sits comfortably in your palm, and you look left, right, before walking off. satoru is electrified.

"okay, thanks!" he says, running out of the classroom while he clutches the bear in his hands.

weaving through the crowd, he looks for the top of your head. after more and more people pass him, staring at the teddy and whispering 'who gave that to him this time?', he spots you turning the corner, a nervous look on your face. he mutters out apologies as he bumps into people heading to their next class.

the hallway you're in now is empty. you stand in front of a classroom door, waiting. notably, suguru's math class.

satoru stands at the end of the corridor, behind the corner, as the classroom door opens to reveal his best friend, geto suguru.

"suguru!" you call, smile. your shoulders are straightened, you hold the letter in front of you. not scared to show him...

"oh, y/n, hey." he responds, grinning as well. the comfortability around you two was so strange to see. "what's up?"

satoru feels like he's buzzing out. he can't hear everything you're saying, but you look a bit excited yet anxious. he hears your sweet voice speak to his best friend with such kindness that he's jealous. sure, suguru was attactive and nice and he definitely didn't feed into the popularity like satoru did, but...

why did it have to be you who was interested in him?

"please, take this." you say, handing him the same letter you had before. except this time, satoru sees the 'g.s' on it. 'geto suguru'. and you take out a box of his favourite snacks to hand to him. "thank you for everything, again. you're the best."

suguru takes it with ease, seeing how you looked at him. his gaze softens as he takes the treat as well. "you're welcome, y/n. anything you need, i'll help with." he puts the letter in his own bag before slinging am arm around your shoulders. "now, what're your plans for after?"

he was blatantly asking you out now! right after satoru told him he had feelings for you! such betrayal!

you two walk to the other end of the hallway, in the direction of your literature class. satoru slumps against the wall, furrowed brows and lips pressed into a thin line. after a second, he pushes his glasses up and lets out a slow exhale. he could get over this...

"gojo! may i please have a moment of your time?"

"wait no! me first!"

"gojo, can i talk to you?"

"please accept these!"

or maybe he couldn't.

valentines day was today and you danced into school with such confidence. you had a bouquet of flowers in your arms, chocolates of the sweetest kinds, and a bag of new perfume that you knew your crush would like.

you were so excited.

satoru, who was walking a few people behind you, was not.

he saw the amount of passion you put into the holiday, and it made him sick to know it was for his best friend. the guys was in such a bad mood, he ignored suguru and shoko's calls this morning to meet up and walk to school together like usual.

satoru clicked his tongue, thinking about how dramatic the whole valentines day idea was. really, who needed it all anyway?

in homeroom, he can hear your class (which is next to his, across the hall) start whooping and cheering when you walk in. and he knows it's you by the chants of your last name being heard. he sits in his chair in anguish.

"satoru, morning. finally." shoko says, sitting down as well. she grins, bitting the popsicle stick between her lips. "where are all of your valentines presents?"

"stuffed in my shoe locker and under my desk." he claimed, opening the top of it to showcase the blaring red and pink gifts. she picked at one pocky box, munching on the biscuits. "how about you?"

"i got a couple letters and cookies in my locker." she claims, shrugging her shoulders, "lots of 'em are from the badminton team. i don't know why."

satoru shrugs as well as soon as suguru sits down in front of him. the blue-eyed students scoffs, looking away.

"good morning, satoru." he says, noticing his friend's behaviour, "what's got his panties in a twist this morning? does he know we called him a hundred times?"

"i dunno'." shoko says, looking out the window to the school garden. "ask him."

"satoru, what's wrong? didn't get enough presents this year?" he teases, leaning in his chair to poke his head, "wake up late?"

but satoru angrily swats his hand away. the raven-haire boy blinks curiously before satoru glares at him. "why didn't you tell me you were interested in y/n?" he asks, hurt.

shoko looks back to the two boys, seeing suguru just as confused as she is. "you're into y/n?"

"what? no! who said that?" suguru retorts, hands up in defense, "i'm not interested in dating y/n, swear on my life."

"that's a lie!" satoru accuses, pointing a finger against his friend's nose, "shoko, i saw him and y/n all... all... familiar yesterday after period 2! he had his arm around them!"

"suguru..." shoko warns.

"wait wait, that's—you got it all wrong." suguru groans, now understanding. he digs through his bag and pulls out a piece of paper. "here. open it."

satoru pushes away the paper reading 'g.s'. "no way! i'm not reading y/n's love letter to you!"

"ugh! just open it!" suguru grunts, shoving it onto his desk.

satoru begrudgingly takes it and gently opens the letter, not wanting to rip it. once his eyes fall upon the page, he confirms that it's your handwriting.

'thank you for being the sweetest boy to me. i am truly honoured to know such a beautiful person, inside and out.'

satoru wants to barf.

'sitting near you in biology really helped me to understand you, satoru. you're not only a pretty face, but a world-class sweet tooth, a sucker for romantic cliches and a cologne-collector.'

satoru thinks this is the most beautiful thing he's ever read.

he contiues to read, expression changing, letting shoko and suguru understand his thoughts. the girl looks to the other boy, who shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

"i'm confused." shoko states, tilting her head.

"y/n isn't confessing to me, they're confessing—"

"y/n is confessing to me! me, satoru!" satoru exclaims, waving the letter around like a maniac. everyone else in the class was suddenly a listener, peaking at the trio. they were interested in finding out what the one confession that resulted in this reaction was. "oh my god, oh my god!"

suguru nods his head. placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "yes, yes, they are. i was meant to give you the letter this morning to read before homeroom, but someone was pissy." he scoffs, shaking his head, "so i had to go and tell y/n that plans had changed."

"you... helped y/n plan this all out?" satoru mumbles, "but you didn't even know!"

shoko chuckles, staring out the window again.

"i just said i wasn't paying attention so you didn't think i was snooping. which i was. and i only told you i knew y/n so you wouldn't get any ideas, like this." suguru circles the air with his finger, deadpanning at the clueless satoru, "you think anyone would do this without definitive proof the other person liked them?"

satoru continues to read the letter you wrote for him before his eyes land on the ending. "'please meet me at the school fountain before homeroom ends.'" he murmurs out, blinking, "suguru—"

"you were meant to go two minutes ago." his friend sings out, standing in front of shoko's desk. he points out the window, much like other students were doing in their own classrooms. "you should..."

when his friends turn around to him, satoru is already one foot out of the door. he's rushing downstairs (down three flights of stairs, actually) with your letter clutched in his hand. he almost flies into a couple teachers on the way to the garden, only for their attention to be caught by students opening the windows and pointing outside.

when he rushed through the doors to the garden, you're staring at the floor, still holding the flowers and gifts you brought to school with you. taking a moment to gather himself, satoru runs fingers through his hair and fixes his glasses. the pair you've complimented a thousand times.

satoru walks closer to you and when he catches your eye, you stand up straight and smile.

"satoru." you chime, not missing the thousand pairs of eyes that were following your every move. "good morning. happy valentines day."

you hold out the flowers to him. it's set in a nice box, and the treats are in a gift bag. when you give it to him, your smile is awkward but hopeful.

"happy valentines day, y/n." he replies, taking it from you. he sits down on the fountain edge, and you follow along. "i'm so sorry, i... i don't have anything for you."

"no, no, no." you retort, grinning, "it's fine. this was a surprise for you, anyway."

he sighs, "no, i'm sorry... please, let me make it up to you."

you laugh a little, placing a hand over his on his lap. the flowers were sat on the fountain with his gifts. "sure thing." you retort, "hey, suguru told me that this morning—"

"i'm sorry, i know, i just thought..." he begins, cutting you off. he looks embarrassed, heavy blush falling over his cheeks. "i saw you and suguru yesterday and you gave him that letter. had me thinkin' you were confessing to him instead of me."

you let out a small chuckle, making him gulp, "oh my goodness, i'm sorry, i didn't mean for you to see that. we were trying to be sneaky."

satoru's chest feels lighter, and he feels better just hearing it from you. he links his fingers with yours, facing you fully.

"ah, no it's fine." he tells you, the most purest form of adoration in his eyes that you can see from the top of his slanted down glasses. you grin softly. "listen, i have had a crush on you for months... and i was hoping that you'd go out with me. i want a chance to get to know you personally, away from any prying eyes."

you peer to the side, seeing the people watching you. they were practically hanging out the window, waving their hands and fighting to view the whole scene for themselves. cameras took photos and videos, capturing your moment with him.

"i'd love that, satoru." you say, scanning his face, "you're the best."

it only takes him a single second to reach his hand out and brush his thumb agaisnt your cheek. you don't freeze up though, only relaxing into him. he was the most inviting guy you've ever met.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, voice unwavering. his blue eyes are staring at your face with such kindness that it cannot be described.

you don't even say anything, only leaaning forward and pressing your lips to his. he's smiling against your lips, gentle hand caressing your cheek. your eyes flutter shut, holding his hand tightly.

cheers erupt from the school. screams and whoops from guys and girls alike. most students are heartbroken due to the obvious confession. nobody had even gotten that close to satoru. no one has been able to hold his hand, let alone get him to go crazy over a letter. you got him to race out of that classroom like a madman, and everyone was surely surprised.

the shouts die down as the kiss deescalates, many of the students sighing as they're forced to move on from the heart-throb gojo satoru.

when you pull away, satoru chases, leaving a gentle kiss against your forehead. your smile is wide and you pinch his cheek softly.

"you're such a drama queen, satoru." you say, standing up, "i was wondering why everyone started yelling and staring at me all of a sudden."

satoru stands with his presents, rubbing the back of his neck as he holds your hand. h goes to answer when a voice is heard from the fourth floor.

"the idiot took some convincing, y/n!" suguru shouts, waving his hand, "glad to know he's got some sense in him!"

"shut up, suguru!" satoru calls back, showing his fist.

"first period is about to start, you two!" the principle says through a window on the third floor, "this is all heart-warming, but you've failed two of ms kinoshita's classes, gojo!"

"r—right!" he retorts, pacing to the school entrance as people begin to 'ooh' at him. he looks back at you, smiling the brightest. "let's go out after school today, yeah? i'll buy you as many sweets as you want."

you chuckle, kissing his cheek, "my hero."

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #satoru #satoru x reader

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cinnaminsvga · 1 month

Text

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

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jeneveuxrein · 2 months

Text

inevitable (BLACKPINK Jennie)

word count: 7.5K

(something light, in a sense it’s the prequel to best behavior, but my apologies for not getting this out when it was supposed to be, enjoy!)

-- --

The question is out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. It’s become a habit more than anything, but you promised it would be something you break in the new year.

You just didn’t expect the answer to change.

“Okay, Tuesday works.”

Your jaw almost drops, but your lips stay in a straight line, slowly curling up. If you’re being honest, you want to scream at the top of your lungs because finally.

“Sweet,” You answer nonchalantly. “I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Sure,” The woman stands from the barstool, a soft smile on her face. One you’re not familiar with, especially directed at you. It’s sincere, and personal that it almost feels like you’re seeing a side that’s been waiting to be shown. There’s something in your chest that blooms. “See you then.”

A small wave from her friend has you returning it back, watching them walk away. You hear giggles, and you know she could never keep her excitement to herself.

It sets in quickly as the door shuts behind the pair, internally fist pumping. All the time and effort finally paid off.

Kim Jennie said yes.

-- --

You laughed at Lisa’s joke, sipping your beer as you leaned against the counter. She was telling a story about how one of her dancers walked in on her changing, ogling a second too long that she ran out of the room. Only things like this would happen to her.

Someone asked a question when she walked in.

You almost dropped your drink because there was no one that had ever caught your attention like she did.

She practically lit up the room, and for some reason, you felt a little lighter. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but this felt pretty damn close.

You played your cool, not wanting to seem too forward, too eager, to talk to her. That didn’t mean your eyes glanced away, they kept searching for her in the room as Jisoo pulled her into whoever they walked by. There were handshakes and hugs, and you wondered where you’d fall.

Your heartbeat lightly thudded on your chest when they were a few feet away. You’d soon get to meet her, and you hoped you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself.

“Jendeukie,” Jisoo fondly called her as they stood in front of you. She introduced your name. You froze when your eyes met her—love at first sight never seemed so close, because you’d have to bet she felt it too.

Whatever it was.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jennie extended her hand out, a shy smile in her face

“Right back at you,” Throwing her a wink as her hand gripped around your palm. You noticed how soft her hand was, small too, but there was something about it that just fit right.

“Oppa! Don’t you dare,” Jisoo slapped your arm enough for your hand to drop Jennie’s. “I refuse to let the mandu be part of your list. Absolutely not.” She shook her head, disapproving already when you hadn’t said more than four words to her.

Jisoo dragged Jennie away before you could respond.

Lisa chuckled next to you, shaking her head. She knew you too well to know you were instantly attracted to the woman. It was obvious on your face. “Please don’t.”

“I’m going to marry her,” You said simply.

Lisa almost spit out her drinking. You weren’t one to mention commitment when you were dating all these women, let alone marriage.

“What?”

“I’m going to marry Jennie,” You shrugged, as if it was for certain, a small smile formed on your face when your eyes met her across the room.

A smile returned.

You groaned, frustrated again at Jennie’s rejection. You didn’t understand why she was being difficult. You thought she was interested in you.

“Unnie said no again, huh?” Rosie asked, chuckling as the waiter took away the empty plates.

“I literally don’t get it,” You shook your head at your phone screen, re-reading Jennie’s no. “Does she not like me?”

Rosie rolled her eyes, used to your dramatics. “She probably doesn’t like you the way you do if she’s said no four times already.”

It had been a month since you met Jennie, and you saw her frequently, thanks to Lisa inviting you to come along. At first, you didn’t want to go, but she’d slip in that Jennie would be there too. It was an easy decision to join whatever they did, even though you’d end up taking an insane amount of pictures.

Jennie was shy.

Or, at the very least, shy around you.

You would describe it as ‘shy’ because she hardly interacted with you. You had to approach her first, grasping at straws to have any kind of conversation with her.

You were able to get her number one night after clubbing, mentioning this restaurant that you thought she would like. It was the perfect segue to ask her out, but you later saw on her socials she went with one of her friends. She did, however, message you a thank you for the recommendation.

“I don’t get why you’re trying so hard,” Rosie commented as you pouted at your device. “Jennie’s never had a boyfriend, and sorry if it’s harsh, but I genuinely don’t think you’d be her first serious relationship.”

Something you knew very early on, but you were aware of the effect she had on men and women alike. You witnessed a lot of people ask her out. She entertained it, flirting right in front of you.

It wasn’t like you could say anything. You were just some guy that was around Jennie. You weren’t even sure she considered you a friend.

“You’re right,” You flip your phone over. “It’s probably not meant to be.”

You knew you wouldn’t listen to Rosie. There was something in your gut that told you to keep trying.

It felt inevitable.

You were almost at your breaking point. You didn’t know what would push you over the edge, but you were sure it was close.

Jennie said no again.

You offhandedly asked her to dinner after walking her to the train station. You took the opportunity to be alone with her while the others took a car to their respective homes.

You were thankful for your ‘friendship’ that had developed over the past few months. It had gotten to the point where you could hold a conversation, and she wouldn’t look at you with a blank stare. She even sometimes approached you, asking how you were and what was going on in your life.

Yet, you couldn’t figure it out.

Some days she’d always be near you, keeping you within arms reach.

Other days, she’d hardly look your way.

Rosie was also confused by Jennie’s attitude toward you. It took some time, but after a while, over a quick bite after work, she asked you if anything was going on. You couldn’t give her an answer since you were trying to make something happen, but rejection was always the outcome. Rosie didn’t know what was going on. She even went on to tell you that she asked Jennie herself how she felt about you, but she couldn’t get an answer out of her.

You were rolling with the punches at this point.

Christmas was around the corner and you wanted to do coupley things with someone, but the someone you wanted to do it with was making it difficult.

The worst part of hearing another rejection was that you had to see Jennie this evening.

Sana was hosting a holiday get-together slash birthday party before your friends leave to spend the end of the year with their families. She was adamant that you had to go because there was a surprise that you didn’t want to miss. When it came to Sana, you had to be weary. It took a bit of convincing, but you reluctantly said yes when all you wanted to do was stay home and play video games, especially with how work had been going.

Lisa mentioned earlier in the week that Jennie would also be there, which your enthusiasm to be at the same place with her waned these past few weeks. You’d be happy to see her, but at the same time, the no thank you she gave you echoed in your head.

You arrived at Sana’s, knocking on the door as you waited for someone to answer. You heard the sound of conversation on the other side, which meant the party was in full swing. A moment later, Momo opened the door, face lighting up as soon as she saw you.

“Oppa! You made it,” Momo greeted, hugging you briefly before ushering you in. You weren’t used to her being this excited to see you. She usually just gave you a nod, but as soon as you entered, you felt something was up.

“Hi Momo,” You smiled, handing her the bottle of wine Sana demanded you bring as you took your shoes off.

“Go to the kitchen,” Momo nodded encouragingly, the same smile still on her face when you walked in.

This is weird, you thought before doing exactly what she said.

You said your hello’s to a few of your friends, who had the same excitement on their face as you walked by.

You saw Jennie across the room, next to one of her friends, Hyujin, and Jisoo, laughing at something the latter was saying. She looked up as soon as you walked by. You didn’t say anything except shooting her a small smile before reaching the kitchen.

You scanned the room, noting the food and alcohol spread prepared by Sana, before your eyes fell on the back of someone familiar. You couldn’t quite place it, but you saw this person conversing with Sana and Lisa.

Sana shrieked when she realized you were there, halting most, if not all, of the conversations in her apartment.

“Oppa! Come here!” Sana waved you over, and as she did, the person in question turned around and you couldn’t help the grin forming on your face. “Look who it is,” She pointed excitedly.

Mina.

Being in the presence of your ex-girlfriend was a pleasant surprise.

You hadn’t seen Mina since she graduated and moved back to Japan. You spoke with her a few times, wishing birthdays mostly, but that was the extent. You kept up with her socials and whatever Sana or Momo would tell you, and from what you gathered, she had been doing great.

She was also still as beautiful as you remembered. Time had made her even more so, that you felt you were in the presence of a goddess.

You told her exactly that, which was met with an eye roll and a cheeky smile.

“Still with the compliments?” Mina shook her head, cheeks turning red as she sipped her wine.

“Never enough for you,” You leaned forward, hand resting on the back of the seat.

To your friends, the witnesses of your relationship, they wouldn’t think anything of it. It was a familiar sight to be close with Mina, regardless of how much time has passed. They knew how hard it was on you when the relationship ended, but everyone knew that it wouldn’t last. She was always meant to go back to Japan. There was an expiration date the moment you decided to be together.

Could you have followed her to Japan? Yes, but would you? Probably not.

You were in love with her, but you were glad you experienced your first heartbreak with her.

It was a lot of catching up, talking about what happened then, in between, and now. Mina was doing well for herself, developing games for one of the country's biggest companies. She lived a simple life, hanging out with her friends and occasionally traveling with her family abroad.

You were proud of who she had become. She wasn’t the same woman you fell in love with all those years ago–shy, reserved–that much was obvious. She was still shy, but there was an air of confidence around her that wasn’t there before. She glowed, smiling at your stories and laughing at your antics. You could tell she was proud of you too.

The topic of relationships came up, which Mina told you candidly that she was seeing someone. His name was Kyo, a bit of a hot-head, but he was only ever like that with his cousins. You were happy she found someone who drew her out of her shell.

In love always looked good on her, even if that meant it wasn’t with you.

“What about you?” Mina placed her wine glass on the counter, the rest of your friends in their own conversations around you. They’d join in, but ultimately left you two in your own space.

“What about me?” You sighed. “I haven’t really dated anyone since you.”

Mina tilted her head, analyzing your face. It was jarring whenever she did that. She always said there were ‘tells’ when you liked someone, even on a superficial level. Having been her friend before you started dating, she could figure out if there was a crush involved.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Mina’s eyes squinted, lip pouting as she took her eyes off you to look behind you. “But then will you tell me why I’ve been on the receiving end of a death glare since you sat down with me?” You almost turned around, but she rushed out, “Don’t.”

“What’re you talking about?” You raised an eyebrow, confused.

“You like someone, and they’re here, aren’t they?”

Leave it to Mina who could always see right through you.

A dejected yes fell from your lips, shoulders dropping as you quietly explained the situation with Jennie. There wasn’t much to say except you had been asking her out for quite some time, but it hadn’t gotten anywhere.

“I don’t know her, but if I had to wager, she probably likes you too.”

There was no way.

Jennie hadn’t come up to you since you arrived. You hadn’t even thought of her until now, too swept up with Mina’s presence .

“Doubtful.”

Mina made a humming sound before changing the subject, not commenting on it anymore. You didn’t have it in you to ask.

You waited for the elevator when you heard a set of footsteps approaching you. Your pulse quickened when you saw Jennie and Hyujin walking towards you. You decided to leave the party as soon as Jeongyeon suggested the start of playing games, mainly because you didn’t want to referee disagreements between Jihyo and Nayeon. It somehow always fell on you.

“Hi,” You bowed your head slightly the closer the pair got to you.

Hyujin smiled, giving you a soft hey as she stood next to you. The other woman looked at you with a tight smile before facing the elevator.

“Oh, shit,” Hyujin said after looking through her purse, “I have Jisoo’s keys. I’ll be back. If the elevator comes, I’ll just meet you in the lobby.”

Hyujin took off right as the elevator doors opened. You internally groaned as Jennie walked in, following after her.

Once the elevator door closed, you felt the hairs on your neck stand. The air around you suddenly felt tense, and you didn’t know what to do. You watched the numbers decrease, the elevator descending that it felt like forever being in such close quarters with her.

“How was your night?” Jennie’s voice came out so softly. You almost didn’t hear her.

“Oh, uh, well it was great.”

“Good. I’m glad,” You braced yourself, sensing her next question. “You spent a lot of time talking with Mina-ssi. How do you two know each other?”

“She’s my ex-girlfriend,” You raised your arm to scratch the back of your head. You had no reason to feel embarrassed, but you felt the need to explain yourself. “We dated in school, but broke up because she moved back to Japan. We’re still cordial.”

Jennie turned her head slightly, giving you an inscrutable expression. You still couldn’t figure her out, but if you had to describe it, she looked annoyed.

“Ex-girlfriend?” You didn’t miss the way she emphasized the first part. “It seemed a little cozy between you two.”

You were getting baited, and you fell for it.

“Mina has a boyfriend,” You deadpanned, crossing your arms.

“Sure she does,” Jennie rolled her eyes. “She didn’t act like she had one.”

Whatever she implied, you wouldn’t have any of it. You had always been protective of Mina, and her comment pissed you off.

“You don’t know her, so watch what you’re saying,” You said lowly, eyes glaring as she turned her body to face you.

“If I had a boyfriend, I don’t think he’d like me cozying up with someone that wasn’t him.”

“Why do you care?” You turned, nearly towering over her as she looked up, “Why do you care what Mina does? Wait, I think the better question is, why do you care what I do?”

Jennie scoffed, shaking her head, “I don’t know how that relates to anything-”

“I know you were staring at us when we spoke. Mina felt it across the room,” You cut her off. You took a small step forward, invading her space when you heard her breath hitch. “Jealous?” You grinned as her eyes widened.

The elevator ringing broke whatever trance you two were in. You stepped back, giving Jennie space as you watched her shake her head.

“Goodnight Jennie. I’ll see you around,” You say quietly, nodding as you walk away.

You didn’t know what the hell that was, but you didn’t look back. Your thoughts were in a mess because you saw a glimpse of how Jennie felt.

You couldn’t get your hopes up again.

-- --

“Just checking in,” The waitress serving your table is here again, for the fourth time. “Your date will be arriving soon, yes?”

“Yes,” You lie because you haven’t heard from Jennie since this morning to confirm the time and location. “She’s stuck in some bad traffic.”

The waitress nods politely, walking away before she stands among her colleagues. They whisper something, shooting you pitiful looks and it adds to the sting of how the night’s unfolding.

Jennie’s late.

Today is also her birthday, which you were completely unaware of.

The only reason you know is because later in the morning, while checking your socials, Lisa posted a picture of a birthday greeting to Jennie. You immediately called Rosie to make sure, uncaring that you woke her up in the middle of the night since she was in Australia. She hung up as soon as she said yes.

You didn’t think Jennie would want to spend part of her birthday with you, of all people. You also didn’t think she wouldn’t share this piece of information with you. Your mistake for not knowing it was her birthday because she only ever said it was at the beginning of the year. Sure, you could have asked for an exact date, but still.

This wasn’t how you expected things to go.

Things were weird between you and Jennie after Sana’s party. You didn’t bother meeting with them when Lisa invited you. You had to clear your head because all these mixed signals from Jennie were throwing you off. If you were in the same vicinity, especially with the not-tense exchange in the elevator, you were sure you’d say something you’d regret. You were still surprised she didn’t slap you for what you said. It was warranted.

You saw her right before the year ended, and things were the same–in a way.

You still spoke to each other the same, but there was something between you that you couldn’t ignore. She felt it too. There was some truth to what you said, even if it was very little, because she acted very much like a jealous girlfriend. You contemplated talking to Lisa about it, someone who gave reasonable advice, but opted not to because Lisa had been trying to get you two together, that it would make her try harder.

Jennie was more guarded than when you first met her. She was still polite and open to talking to you, but you got the impression there was more she wanted to say. She never did, leaving you to wonder.

Then, you happened to be meeting Jinseok and Habin for drinks after work when you saw Jennie sitting alone at the bar. You didn’t want to say hello, but something compelled you to. When you approached, Jennie’s face lit up in surprise, but a small smile formed. You made small talk, asking about her day and what she was doing there, which she said she was waiting for Hyujin in the ladies’ room before they went off to dinner.

You couldn’t help yourself from asking will you go on a date with me, but the words fell from your mouth. You froze, realizing that you didn’t intend to ask her out again, but it happened and she actually agreed.

Jennie chose today as the day, but she’s not even here. You were losing hope that she was even going to show since she’s thirty minutes late. The sympathetic looks you’re receiving from the staff has you feeling low.

You fold the napkin on your lap, placing it on the table. You couldn’t wait anymore, chalking this date as a fluke. She probably didn’t mean to say yes.

When you turn to wave your waitress over, you’re met with the sight of Jennie rushing towards you. She pants, out of breath, once she reaches the table, shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry,” You hear her say, watching her lean on the chair. “My phone died as I was leaving my place, and there was traffic because of the snow.”

You lower your hand, giving her an understanding nod. It didn’t matter if she was another thirty minutes late. None of that matters now because she was always going to show up.

“Happy birthday, Jen,” You say softly, standing to help her take her coat off.

She gives you the brightest smile, which has you absolutely giddy.

It’s getting late, but no one in the restaurant seems to mind. It’s practically empty except for a couple of the staff–your waitress included–as they begin setting up to close. You assume they wanted to see how the night would pan out.

This has been the best date you’ve ever been on, and you hope that there’s another and another.

It’s different being with Jennie like this.

You’re so used to being with her with other people around, that being alone with her made you nervous you wouldn’t have anything to talk about. Surprisingly, you had a lot to talk about. She’s much more open with you, telling you about her day and how her coworkers held her up after work to ask more details about the date she was going on. You teased her, which she took in stride because it was a big deal she had a date. She explained she didn’t talk that much about her private life, but it slipped out that she had plans with someone–a man of all people–to celebrate her birthday.

“I didn’t even know it was your birthday. I found out through Lisa’s post.”

“Well, I didn’t want you to think it was a big deal.”

It is a big deal that you’re spending part of her birthday with her, and she knows it. She’s making a statement, and you think you’re understanding it correctly.

You’re also learning Jennie’s much more expressive than she lets on. She’s generally cool and collected, smiling at the right times, when she’s around you and her friends. She’s animated when she tells you about herself, what she likes, dislikes, and how she cried watching a recent drama because it was so sweet. You’ve watched her expressions change throughout the night as she tells you things you’ve never heard about her.

“You didn’t have to pay,” Jennie looks away when the waitress picks up the bill, your card tucked in between the folds. “I’m still sorry for being late.”

“It’s fine,” You wave her off. You planned to pay anyway, regardless if it was her birthday or not. You cared the most about Jennie showing up. She scared you a bit running late, but she’s here.

“You say it is, but I feel terrible about it,” You can tell she means it. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”

“Jennie,” You say softly, reaching for her hand on the table, hoping it wouldn’t be too much. She doesn’t flinch, thankfully. “It’s okay. You’re here. I’m honored you wanted to spend part of today with me.”

“Still,” Jennie pouts, and it makes you want to kiss it away.

“Answer me this then,” You rub the back of her hand with your thumb, “Why’d you finally say yes? I’ve been asking you out for months.”

You can see the wheels turning in her head as she formulates an answer. The waitress is back with the paid bill, giving her time to think of a response as you sign. Once you shut the book, you wait expectantly.

Jennie sighs, this time reaching for your hand, absentmindedly playing with your fingers, “I couldn’t really give you an answer. I’ve seen how you interact with girls and Jisoo-unnie has been in my ear about how you’re a player and not good to women. She even went as far to call you a pig,” You couldn’t stop the eyeroll if you wanted to, which Jennie doesn’t miss. “But after seeing how you were with Mina, it’d made me think Jisoo’s wrong, and that it’d be nice to be with you like that.”

“So you were jealous,” You smirk behind your wine glass. Jennie pinches your skin, but quickly soothes the area with her finger.

“I wouldn’t call it jealousy,” Jennie shakes her head, adding, “I don’t get jealous.”

“Sure.” She’s in denial, but this is still too new for you to start joking with her like that–whatever this is.

“Anyways, I saw a side of you I’ve never seen,” Jennie’s gaze meets yours. “I just thought that could be with me.”

You take a moment to process everything she said, but it’s all jumbled with how she’s looking at you.

The only thought you have right now is that you want to kiss her.

“Jennie,” You groan as your back hits the doorknob, metal digging into your body as she presses herself against you.

“What?” Jennie murmurs against your lips, hands swiftly moving to unbutton your coat, shrugging the article of clothing down your shoulders before it hits the hardwood floor.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You moan out after her teeth bite gently on your bottom lip.

You didn’t think the night would end like this.

You offered her a ride home since you drove, and you didn’t exactly trust a stranger since it was late. She declined at first because she lived on the other side of the city, and she didn’t want you to go out of your way. She relented after assuring her that you wanted to, adding sweetly that it was making up for the time spent waiting for her.

You couldn’t explain it, but something shifted once you entered the car. The tension was palpable that you couldn’t do anything but focus on the road. At one point, Jennie took your hand and placed it on her thigh. Her fingers played with your hand, lightly brushing over your skin that had your body shivering underneath her touch.

If Jennie noticed your internal struggle, she didn’t say anything. She kept on talking as if your body wasn’t having a visceral reaction.

As soon as you parked in the driveway, shutting the car off, Jennie turned to you, fingers interlaced, “Do you want to come inside?”

You berated yourself for making a simple question sound so dirty, but you nodded dumbly as Jennie smiled. She let go of your hand and turned away to open the car door. You hurried out of the car to get the door for her, which you were able to open it enough for her to stand up. When you shut the door, she leaned against the car, looking up at you.

Neither of you moved, but all of a sudden, her lips were on yours and your hand shot out to grip the car frame. Her arms encircled around your neck, pulling your body flush against hers. You heard the soft moan as your tongue grazed her bottom lip, automatically granting you access that ignites a fire.

You thought of your first kiss with Jennie in your head multiple times, but the reality was so much better. Her lips were soft, but demanding, as the months leading up this moment boiled over. You felt all the pent up energy in your body leave as your tongues wrestled in a frenzy.

Jennie pulled away, breaking the kiss, as her hand found its way on your chest to gently push you off. You didn’t say anything as she dragged you towards the entrance, dazed from the kiss.

You probably should have paid more attention to your surroundings, but you wrapped your arms around Jennie as she inserted the key into the lock, making sure she knew exactly how she made you feel.

Once the door opened, Jennie pounced.

“I know we don’t,” Jennie tears her lips off yours, trailing kisses on your jaw. “I want you.”

“Are you sure?” Your control’s slipping when she sucks lightly on your neck. You want her, that much was obvious. You also want her in the morning and the next.

“Yes, and before you ask again, yes,” Jennie leans back to look at you, giving you a small nod that she feels the same.

You’re about to say something when Jennie drops to her knees, hands unbuckling your belt and untucking your dress shirt. Your head falls back, hitting the door as she quickly undoes the button.

“I want,” You try to get out but Jennie palms you through your briefs, “To go out again.”

“We will,” Jennie nods, slipping her hand underneath the waistband before a soft fist encircles around your cock. “You’re bigger than I imagined,” She comments as she strokes you slowly.

It goes straight to your head as she frees you from the confines of the fabric, shrugging your pants down mid-thigh. You watch her eyes widen as she sees your cock up close.

“Jennie,” You grit out, the sight of your cock over her face has you losing your balance. You’re thankful the door’s holding you upright.

Jennie gives you an innocent look before her next move has her everything but. She pokes her tongue, flicking your tip, that has you pressing your weight against the door. Your hands ball into a fist as you watch her kiss all over your cock. She licks up and down, swirling over the tip, and you can’t help the guttural groan leaving your body as her lips wrap around the head.

That’s when you knew you were in trouble.

You’re entranced as Jennie slowly takes more of you inside her mouth. You could cum right then and there, and you almost do the moment your tip touches her throat. She coughs slightly, pulling back for air.

“I don’t think I could take you right now,” Jennie whispers, gaze locked on you while her hands don’t remain idle.

“Practice makes perfect,” You quip, ignoring the tension in your stomach as her mouth engulfs you again. Her cheeks hollow out, the suction causing your eyes to roll back. “You’re so good.”

“Am I?” Your cock’s out of her mouth, a resounding pop echoes through the house.

“Yes,” You nod, bringing a gentle hand to thread through her locks. Her expression darkens, eyes filled with lust that has you wondering how far you could go. “So good.”

Jennie raises herself, keeping her hand around your cock. You gulp when she leans against you, breath against your lips, “As much as I’d like to drain you with my mouth, which I will at some point, I need this,” She squeezes your cock, the pain never felt so good, “Inside me.”

You can’t do anything but nod. Jennie literally has you in the palm of her hands, and if she wanted you to fuck her, who are you to say no?

You’re doing everything you possibly can to not snap your hips forward. You’ve resorted to doing mental math because the sensation of Jennie’s pussy wrapped around your cock has your head(s) spinning.

Her walls pulse as your length sinks deeper into her. You couldn’t ignore the sounds falling from her mouth, the soft moans and breathy sighs as her body takes you in.

It isn’t without preparation because you spent a fair amount of time in between her legs. You might’ve gotten drunk on her taste, that she had to physically pull you off from overstimulation. You didn’t know how many times she came, but it was evident on your face and the bedsheet.

“You’re too big,” Jennie pants out, hands wrapped around your wrist, gripping tightly that her nails dig into your skin.

“We can stop,” It pains you to say that, but you don’t want to hurt her.

Jennie frantically shakes her head, biting her lip, “No no no. I want it, please.”

“Baby,” The nickname leaves your mouth easily, and her pussy twitches, “Just breathe.”

Her grip loosens as you watch her chest rise slowly before expelling a long breath. Your jaw clenches as you feel your cock slide in more, and you shouldn’t have glanced down.

It’s absolutely filthy the way she sucks you in. You’re over halfway in, and you genuinely didn’t know if you’d be able to last.

“Kiss me.”

You bring your lips down, distracting her and yourself. She moans into your mouth, greedily swallowing every sound and breath as she wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling you deeper into her body.

“Fuck,” Jennie’s head snaps back, tearing her lips away as her little move brings all of you in.

You swear you feel something leave your body, whether it was your impending orgasm or your soul, you didn’t know. All you know is that having Jennie wrapped around you—tight, wet, and hot—has you burying your face in the crook of her neck.

“You feel so good,” You groan against her skin, pussy tightening at the praise. “Jennie,” You choke out.

“Tell me I’m good,” Jennie commands quietly, and there’s a shift in the air, something you’ve never experienced with any of the women you’ve been with—something darker.

“Who said you were?” You taunt, nipping softly at her ear.

“You don’t think so?” Jennie plays dirty, wrapping her legs around your waist, pulling you deeper into her that has both of you sucking in a breath.

“That definitely wasn’t good,” You grit out as you subtly shift your hips, eyes rolling back as she chuckles.

“I’m sure you could make me,” She kisses you sweetly on the cheek before saying, “You know you want to.”

Things go downhill, or uphill, depending on how you look at it.

In that very moment, her words break something inside you, unleashing the control you tried so hard to keep. You don’t give her, or yourself, any notice when you slide your length out, keeping your tip snug between her lips before thrusting back in, her body jolting at the movement.

“God, yes,” Jennie moans, her limbs hugging you tighter to her body as you start bucking into her, hands sliding underneath her small frame.

You’re not sure if you black out, but the only thing spurring you on is Jennie’s moans and breath on the side of your face as you pump in and out of her slick. You thought it would be difficult, given how long it took for her to take you, but as you move easily within her body, thrusting and rolling your hips to hit that spot inside of her. It’s like she was made for you.

“Jen,” You don’t recognize your voice after a particularly hard thrust and squeeze from her, signaling that you were close.

“That fast?” You don’t need to see her face to know she’s smirking, but it’s a façade. The way she’s pulsing around you proves she’s right there with you.

“You feel so fucking good,” And her pussy reacts, squeezing as her breath hitches, nails scratching down your back. “You like hearing that, huh? Be good for me, baby.”

It happens suddenly, knocking the wind out of you as Jennie’s body seizes, back arching, chest pushed against yours when she screams. A gush of wetness covers you as her orgasm rips through her body, triggering yours that you had no time to pull out. You capture her lips, groaning as you paint her insides white, hips stuttering as her walls throb—pulse—along your cock.

Jennie whines as her wombs fill with your essence, moaning, whispering how good it feels inside her. She rocks her hips, making sure she milks you dry before her limbs sprawl out on the bed.

You’re usually not this reckless, especially when it comes to sex. You tend to use protection, but that seemed to go out the window. Jennie was too determined, too tempting, too hot that it didn’t cross your mind—at all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You mutter, pulling quickly out as your lust-filled mind clears. Jennie lets out a small gasp. “Fuck I’m so sorry.”

“What? Hey, where are you going?!” Jennie’s legs try to wrap around you before you step away, but you’re quicker.

“We didn’t use protection,” You say harshly, shaking your head at your carelessness.

“Okay? And?” Jennie sits up as you start pacing back and forth in front of her. “I’m clean and on the pill. Are you?”

“Of course I am. I get tested regularly,” You roll your eyes, slightly offended by her accusation.

“Okay, so we’re fine. If I wanted to use a condom, I would’ve made you put one on, so can you just come back to bed. You’re stressing over literally nothing,” Jennie reaches for your arm, pulling you to stand in front of her. “It was great,” She places a soft kiss on your stomach, peering up at you. “Lay with me.”

Jennie’s stronger than she lets on, pulling you down to lay next to her. She rests her head on your chest, locking a leg over yours so you have nowhere to go. It calms you, being wrapped around by her. You sigh contentedly as her finger absentmindedly traces over your abdomen.

“You know,” Jennie says quietly, “I’m sorry for how I’ve been with you since the day we met.”

“You had your reservations, it’s understandable,” You place a soft kiss on her forehead. “But I swear that I’m not that much of a fuckboy as Jisoo makes me out to be.”

Jennie chuckles, shaking her head, “I see that. I do. I think I can trust you.”

“Are you saying you want to be my girlfriend? One date was all it took?” You tease, earning a light slap.

“Maybe take me out some more, and I can see us being together,” Jennie kisses underneath your jaw.

Something blooms in your chest, that same feeling you had when you first saw Jennie all those months ago. It’s scary to feel this strongly about her so quickly, but you’ll lean into the feeling because whether you want to or not, you know you’ll fall in love with her.

If you haven’t already.

“And with how you are in bed,” Jennie murmurs against your skin, “I’m not entirely keen on sharing you with anyone.”

You don’t plan on being with anyone else after her because there’s something there that only she could get to.

Instead of being all sweet and romantic, you opt to respond with a joke, “So you are the jealous type.”

“Possessive might be a better word,” Jennie whispers seductively. “I’m sure it would take very little from me to make you mine.”

“Do I want to be yours?” You quip, rubbing her skin softly.

“I’m sure I could convince you,” Jennie mumbles, kissing you sweetly one last time before she climbs on top of you. “Right?” Her eyes narrow as she subtly grinds along your cock, waking at the movement.

“Maybe,” You nod, eyes locked on her as she smirks.

“Can you go again? Or do you need a break?” Jennie bends forward, meeting your lips with hers. She dips her tongue into your mouth and you moan softly against her.

“I might need some help,” You say sheepishly as she giggles.

“I want you in my mouth anyways,” Jennie murmurs, trailing her lips down your neck as she shifts her body. “I’ll be good.”

And fuck you know she will be.

-- --

“I love you,” Jennie drunkenly mumbles against your lips, wrapping her arms around your neck as she tries to deepen the kiss.

“Baby,” You smile, trying to keep this kiss as PG as possible given you’re at a club with all of your friends.

“I do,” Jennie pulls away, pouting.

That’s the thing you’ve learned about Jennie these past few months. She doesn’t talk about her feelings a lot, but when she does, it’s one of the things you love the most about her.

And yes, you love her. You’re in love with her. You told her after three months of making it official. She didn’t say it back, nor did you expect to. She keeps her feelings to herself, only sharing them with her closest friends. As time went on, she opened up, telling you how she felt in not so many words, but enough to know she was falling for you, hard.

“I love you too, Jen,” You grin, watching her roll her eyes underneath the strobe lights.

“You’re not hearing me, I love you,” Jennie crosses her arms. “Like I’m in love with you.”

Oh.

“You’re drunk,” You shake your head because her telling you she’s in love with you, drunk, in the club, with all your friends around, wasn’t how you expected this confession.

“I am,” Jennie nods, scooting closer to you enough to swing her legs over yours. “But I know what I’m saying and I’m in love with you.”

“You’ll tell me again in the morning?” You raise an eyebrow, not wanting to get your hopes up.

Jennie nods, leaning forward to kiss you again. “I’ll show you just how much I love you till then.”

You tap her legs, moving them away, before standing up. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Jennie asks as you pull her up, interlacing your fingers together.

“Home,” You say simply, and she gives you the brightest smile before nodding.

“Make me cum tonight, yeah?” Jennie whispers seductively in your ear.

Like you won’t.

You’ve always been a light sleeper, and when you feel the bed dip, you wake up slowly. You watch Jennie slip on your shirt, feet padding into the bathroom.

Last night was intense in the best kind of way.

Jennie showed you exactly how much she loved you by the way she rode you until you came inside her. She wouldn’t let you rest, keeping your cock inside of her until you got hard again. She begged you to keep fucking her, the word daddy got thrown around, and that was it for you.

Right before she came, she told you she loved you again and you let her come around your cock as you fucked her from behind, thrusting inside of her before you met your release.

Jennie’s back in the room, sliding underneath the blanket before snuggling into your side. “I know you’re awake.”

“What gave me away?” You ask, clearing your throat when you realize your voice is thick with sleep.

“You always wake up whenever I leave the bed,” Jennie murmurs.

“Can’t help that I miss you as soon as you go.”

“Such a sweet talker,” Jennie giggles, “But I do have something to tell you.”

You wait, giving her the time she needs to gather her thoughts.

Jennie lets out a shaky breath before looking at you, “I love you. Like I’m in love with you, and you know that I’m not really someone who expresses my feelings, but yeah I’m in love with you. I think I was always going to since the day I met you.”

You smile, closing your eyes contentedly. “Thanks.”

“What?” Jennie slaps your chest. “Say it back!”

“I love you, Jen,” You open one eye, “You’ve known this.”

“I know,” Jennie huffs, slapping your chest again. “But still.”

“Careful, I don’t need you getting all soft on me now,” You tease and she huffs against your neck.

You might be joking, but you know how serious Jennie’s being. She’s never had a relationship, and you feel some pressure being her first. It’s not enough to have you running because you want to make this work.

She is, after all, the woman you’re going to marry.

-- -- --

#blackpink smut #blackpink jennie #blackpink kim jennie #blackpink jennie kim #jennie smut #kim jennie smut #kim jennie

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 year

Text

Blessing

Pairing- Ao'nung x Sully!reader

Summary- You are the twin sister of Lo'ak who is the complete opposite of each other, and when you move with the Metkayina you caught someones eye.

A/N- This was a request

You are the complete opposite of your twin brother, his was rambunctious you were always calm, he was rebellious you were obedient somewhat. He wanted to fight you wanted to collect plants make medicine help to heal people. But somehow you fit each other just right, he was your best friend as you were his.

One time Lo'ak got into major trouble and at communal dinner someone made a joke calling you "the better twin." And it irked you to the bone. "That's not funny." You would say before returning to your previous conversation. And with all of this your father was very protective sometimes you think it's because he sees your Uncle Tommy in you doesn't wanna lose you how he lost Tommy, he never does talk about your uncle but you can just feel it.

When you had to move to the Metkayina clan it was hard but you tried your best to be happy. And when you got there it was nothing like you expected. They said you had demon blood, that hurt but you deflected it as much as you could. And then there was Ao'nung, when he first saw you he thought that his heart was going to explode in his chest your beauty was undeniable. But he was a big teaser at you and your siblings but his sister smacked some sense into him.

He would leave flirty remarks, "Looking good Y/N." When you would swim or, "How's my favorite forest girly doing." He would say or your personal favorite, "Pretty girl." and you would just reply kindly, with a "Thank you Ao'nung." Or a small, "I am fine how are you." and that just wrapped him into your love spell deeper.

Then he started to help you with things, even when you didn't need it. He just wanted a reason to be close with you. You thought he was just being helpful, but sometimes you couldn't help but get butterflies in your stomach when his hand would graze yours when lifting something into the docks, or when he addressed you as pretty girl and it drove you insane.

And now he here he was looking at his reflection making sure his hair was right before he went to talk to your father, Jake Sully. The Toruk Makto. Hell yeah he was scared but it would all be worth it. He walked into your families mauri only Jake was there sharpening his dagger. Ao'nung gulped a wad of saliva. His palms were sweaty and sweat threatened to spill all over his body.

He took a deep breath composing himself. "Hello Jake." Ao'nung spoke bringing his fingers from his forehead outward towards Jake as a sign of respect. "Ao'nung." Jake spoke suspiciously. "If you are looking for any of my kids I do not know except Y/N she's out collecting pearls for her little sister." He said sighing afterwards.

"No sir I just came to ask you something important." Ao'nung said Jake stood up at the seriousness in the younger males voice. "Yes of course what is it." Jake said. "I would like to ask for your blessing to court your daughter." Ao'nung spoke quickly and swiftly. And it seemed all the color drained from Jake's face. "M-my d-daughter Kiri?!?" Jake said running his hands over his face distraught. "No! Not Kiri, Y/N." Ao'nung corrected the male.

Jake turns to him, protective dad overload. And just before he could speak you walked in. "Hello fathe- Ao'nung, hey." You say indigo painting your face as Ao'nung says hello doing the forehead motion to you as he did to Jake, but Jake could tell he was flirting, right in front of him!

Jake looks at the interaction dread filling him. "What are you doing here?" You ask softly putting a bag filled with pearls down looking at him. "Oh I was just asking your father," Ao'nung took a deep breath once again before telling him he was asking for your father blessing. "His blessing to court you." He said turning back to his father.

A sense of excitement and happiness could be felt anyone in a ten foot radius of you. You looked at your father huge smile plastered on your face shaking your head up and down, yes. Your father took one deep breath and closed his eyes before he spoke, "Yes, you have my blessing." Jake said and Ao'nung turned to you and gave you a smile just as big as yours. "But," your dad said making you turn your attention to him. "You don't go anywhere alone I was a teenager not long ago I know what's going through that pea sized brain and I am not, repeat not having a baby under this roof, so help me god I will kill yo-" "Dad!" You yell stopping the threats being thrown at a shocked Ao'nung.

Oh and, when your brothers found out you were being courted all hell broke loose. "How could you let my baby sister be courted but that fish boy!" Neteyam spoke. "I am not a baby." You say as you finish separating fruits as your mother instructed you to. "I refuse to be brothers with that fish." Lo'ak said shaking his head. "I'm not happy about it either but if he makes her happy then let it be." Your father said to them. "Oh you are acting like children." You say throwing a price of fruit at your father.

#avatar 2022 #avatar 2 #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar x reader fluff #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar x reader #aonung avatar #aonung x you #aonung x reader #aonung #ao'nung #avatar x sully!reader #sully!reader

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lovebugism · 6 months

Note

Random conversations with rockstar eddie while high that obviously lead to something dirty 👀

ty for requesting :D — eddie asks you who you'd most want to have a threesome with and confessions are shared (band!au, established relationship, mentions of weed and smut 18+, 1.2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It started out all cute, in your defense.

The tour bus was parked in Colorado for the next couple of nights, and the mountains and trees were aflame with a very distinct golden color. You and Eddie chose to bask in the orange while the rest of the band spent the evening in the hotel.

Your night alone was an innocent one — despite the cheeky taunts and whistles from the rest of Corroded Coffin. Squished together in your bunk, the two of you got high and proceeded to talk about everything and nothing all at once.

You share one pillow, noses mere inches apart, just barely fitting together on the small mattress. The skunky smell of weed and Eddie’s musky cologne is all-consuming, suffocating in the best way.

Your poorly concealed giggles fill the silence of the bus as you press your palm against Eddie’s pale one, comparing the size difference between the two. It shouldn’t amuse you as much as it does.

“Would you still love me if Roger Taylor asked you out?” Eddie blurts, growing suddenly serious about the question that only just popped into his mind.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He thought it, and the words just sorta spilled from his mouth.

Your brows pinch at the sudden question, though there’s still a small smile on your face. You can’t be sure where he’s coming from — if it’s the weed or if he remembers the one time you very drunkenly confessed to having a decade-long obsession with the blonde-haired drummer in your girlhood.

“What?” you wonder, still giggling.

“I mean, like, if he showed up to one of our shows and asked you out, would you say yes?”

You ponder the question. For a few seconds too long, maybe. Mostly because it takes you a little while to understand him through the brain fog.

“Well… no,” you answer finally, voice wavering as your eyes flit to the darkened ceiling.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, more firmly this time. Your gaze returns to his chocolate one, made a darker shade from the black night — they sparkle, still. A grin blooms on your face. “But I think if you really loved me, you’d let me fuck him. Just one time.”

You’re obviously kidding. It’s just a stupid joke made more evident by the dumb, lopsided smile on your face and the pointer finger you hold up to your nose.

Eddie knows this, and he’s sporting his own rosy grin accordingly. A fleeting thought sears his brain. It bubbles up in his throat and tumbles out before he can stop it.

“Only if I get to watch,” he retorts, all boyish and quiet.

It’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not. But then again, it usually is. You decide to toe the line, anyway. “Really?” you hum, shifting on the mattress to face him more intently.

The boy shrugs while you smooth ornery curls from his temple. “Yeah. You’re hot. He’s hot. One plus one equals two… Or whatever that expression is.”

“Fair,” you concede, laughing still.

“Alright. Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhmm,” he nods sloppily against the pillow. “Who would you wanna have a threesome with? Like, in a different universe or whatever, ‘cause I don’t think I’m strong enough to share you in real life.”

Again, you giggle. You can’t seem to stop, apparently. You answer quicker than either of you expect.

“Umm… Maybe Nancy,” you answer with a strange sort of nonchalance. “She’s hot… And also she looks like she slaps really hard.”

Eddie’s brain goes blank. And not from the weed this time.

He knew Nancy. Vaguely. Mostly from you. She’s your old friend from high school that you reconnect with every couple of months. You don’t talk crazy often — ‘cause life is too busy for an up-and-coming rockstar and Indiana’s best journalist — but the connection is never truly lost.

And it’s not just that you chose Nancy without having to think about it very hard. He just wasn’t expecting it to be someone you knew in real life. Someone so tangible. That Roger Taylor scenario would only ever happen in wet dreams — his, namely — but Nancy Wheeler? That could be arranged.

The thought alone has him reeling.

You watch him get in his head about the whole thing, though maybe the faraway look in his eyes is just from the weed.

“Well?” you press with an urging lilt and a girlish grin. “You’re turn, Eds. Don’t leave me hangin’ here.”

He goes quiet, which is very unlike your loudmouth boy. He thinks before he speaks, measures his reply before he answers. His absentminded fingers trace up and down the length of your arm all the while, leaving prickling goosebumps in their wake.

“What about Steve?” he wonders with a painfully nonchalant inflection.

Your face screws up instantaneously. You don’t mean to act as shocked as you do, but you can’t help it. “Steve?” you blurt, louder than you meant to. “Like… Steve Steve?”

As in your ex-boyfriend Steve.

As in one of his best friends Steve.

As in roommate Steve the couple weeks out of the year you two aren’t on the road.

It makes your head spin something fierce.

“There another Steve I don’t know about?” Eddie jokes.

Brows still pinched and face still twisted, you question, “So you wanna… fuck Steve? Like, Steve The Hair Harrington?”

“You did,” the boy shrugs, then fakes a soft pout. “Sometimes I feel left out…”

You press your palm to his chest, pushing him playfully away. His arm curls around your back to pull you close again. The proximity is lesser now, so much so that the tips of your nose brush together and your skunky breaths entwine.

It all feels so much heavier now. The intensity of the moment makes you fight back a shiver crawling up your spine. Eddie’s palm smooths up and down the length of it in a slow and measured rhythm. It does little to ease your breathlessness.

“I don’t know. I just think it could be fun,” the boy concludes with a sudden seriousness. His voice is as low as his eyelids. “And I think it’d be real hot to watch him fuck you… ‘Cause we both know he can’t make you cum like I can. Can he, doll?”

Your thighs clench together instinctually, as though to quell the sudden ache pounding between them. You nod slowly, wordlessly.

Eddie’s rosy lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile at your honeyed reaction. He continues — half because the high has loosened his tongue and half because he wants to see how flustered he can make you.

“And then he can watch you fall apart on my dick after, yeah?” he questions like you’re in any space to answer him. “Maybe I can give him a few pointers… Teach him how to fuck you properly, you know?”

The distant ache between your thighs has grown to a full bloom now. It’s a little embarrassing how effortlessly he can drive you crazy — how quickly he can make you drench your panties. You might’ve been a little shameful about it if you couldn’t feel his cock stiffening against your hip.

“Fuck, Eds…” you sigh, the words tumbling from your mouth without thinking.

With parted lips, you drift towards the boy and his unkissed mouth. He juts his chin slightly backward, only lets your plush bottom lips graze together. You don’t know why he’s teasing you. You’re already a puddle at his feet.

With a smirk and an all-consuming touch along your spine, he makes a quiet promise. “And maybe, if you’re real good, you can watch me fuck him, too…”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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eddiernunson · 10 months

Text

Really Drives Me Mad | Bfs Dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Master List | Next Part

My best friend tells me that he's a keeper

I really like Dylan a lot But Dylan's dad He really drives me mad With his faded tats Sings in a cover band Yeah he's super hot with his ripped dad bod Oh my, oh my god I like Dylan a lot But oh god I love Dylan's dad

I know y'all weren't expecting this... Well neither was I. It like invaded my mind and begged me to write it. (this is the dirtiest thing ive ever written.)

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: You've been dating Dylan Munson for a little bit, and it's going well, or at least you feel like it is. Despite everything right with Dylan you can't help but feel uneasy...then you meet Eddie Munson, his dad... and find yourself wet at the sight of him. (reader is in her 20s, Eddie probably in his 40s or so)

Warnings: masturbation (both), voyeurism (both), lot of perv!Eddie, reader ends up cheating, just some dirty stuff. MINORS DNI.

As you sit cross legged on your best friend’s garage couch mindlessly watching some Netflix while she took another hit, your phone dings, a text message you’ve been waiting on.

“Ooh, speak of the devil.” She teases you, putting the bong aside to peek at what Dylan texted you. You roll your eyes at her, answering him to pick you up in the morning. “What did he say?”

Her eyebrows were wagging over-exaggeratingly, and you narrow your eyes. “Just asked when I wanted to get picked up for our trip to the beach tomorrow.”

“Are you excited?” She asks, her voice suggestive and you can hear more excitement in her voice alone than you felt about the trip.

“Yes.” You lie to her, because if you told the truth, you knew you’d hear about it.

Dylan was a good guy. You met him through a singles mixer you went to for shits and giggles and ended up meeting him. He had no business being there, his league was not the type of girl to go to a Fajita style mixer even for laughs. He was so overwhelmingly better looking than every other guy in that mixer that scooping him up before anyone dug their claws in was the logical thing to do.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find him hot.

Dylan ended up being almost everything you said you were looking for. Stable. Ready for commitment. Willing to go the extra mile.

He was stable in every way it takes most men into their 30s to figure out.

You knew he was a rare find as someone dating in your 20s. Yet, there was just something missing.

It wasn’t anything you could describe, and each time you had expressed the feeling people seem to dismiss it, claiming it stemmed from every failed relationship you’ve had. Logically, you should be head over heels over this man who is so sweet and willing to do the most.

But the feeling just nagged at your skull.

For the sake of not feeling guilty and seeing that same bug-eyed expression on your best friend you lie. It felt weird to have to lie to her just to seem grateful for what life has provided to you on a silver platter. So, until an actual reason for this hesitancy presents itself, the dates and the heavy make out sessions and whatnot will continue.

The ego boost he provides when he sends you drooling emojis when you send a bikini selfie for what you’re wearing the next day certainly doesn’t help your case.

“I’m so glad you found him, he’s so sweet.” She mentions off-hand.

You nod, gritting your teeth.

Dylan is on time, as always, prompt and proper to pick you up from your apartment. He texts to let you know he was outside, and you grab your beach bag of snacks and your towel and do a final assessment in the mirror.

Cute pink bikini that hung by a string sitting high on your hips, barely hidden by the long cut out dress you wore. Your bag matched the bikini, and you wore some tiny sunnies to put the whole look together. If you’re gonna date someone as good looking might as well look the part.

As you approached his chevy truck he was animatedly bug eyed while looking at you, his brown eyes popping out of their socket while he drummed his steering wheel. His zest and energy for life was always so contagious. You smiled at him, your cheeks burning as you climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hi baby.” He greets you, kissing you softly. You find yourself grinning into it.

He pulls out onto the main road for the forty-five-minute trip to the lake most people go for a weekend getaway. About five minutes down the road, Dylan pats his cargo shorts down real quick and grunts in disappointment.

“What?”

“Forgot the parking pass for the beach lot. I literally got that for fifteen dollars so I wouldn’t have to pay twenty at the till.” He explains, making a sudden left turn.

You’ve been to his house before, and he usually takes you there when his dad is either at work or just not home. You weren’t sure why, his dad seemed like a decent dude.

(From what you’ve heard anyway)

Maybe, like you, he wasn’t ready for meeting the parents yet.

“Oh, I think my dad will be home around now. Hope that’s okay.” He says, as if you had just spoken aloud. “I think it was time for you to meet him, anyways.”

Shit. Nope. He was ready. You were no where ready for him to meet your mom, who already loved him just from your best friend’s descriptions.

“Oh. Sure.” You glance down to your outfit, something worn not knowing you were about to meet parents. “Are you sure I’m dressed for that though?”

“My dad has met girlfriends in worse positions.” Dylan laughs. “Trust me. This is a better meeting.”

This helps you very little.

Five minutes down the road he pulls into the starter home he and his dad have been living in his whole life, a sweet little bungalow with three rooms and two bathrooms. It was by no means anything to cough at, certainly impressive for a mechanic, but Dylan seemed to behave incredibly sheepishly every time.

Dylan pulls in, and your heart races as you see his dad’s truck in the driveway. As Dylan gets out to open your door, he can feel your nervousness. “Can I just stay here?” You ask him, unsure why he needed you to go in for a pass in the first place.

“Oh I promise he doesn’t bite.” He jokes.

You give him a weak smile, holding his hand as you walked to the front door. The door doesn’t need a key, swinging open and the bright sunlight giving you both a shadow against the hardwood flooring. Dylan walks in, calling for his dad’s name. You squeeze his hand tighter out of nervousness. Eventually the sounds of his creaky steps are heard from the kitchen where Dylan is scanning for his pass, signalling his father coming down the steps.

You were facing towards the stove across the island counter, watching Dylan go through the drawers for it.

“Woah, thought you’d be halfway to the beach by now, you were so damn excited.” You hear his dad’s voice, and there’s something about it, his tone leaning towards a tease that enticed you to turn your head towards him.

Your jaw dropped. Or it didn’t. Certainly felt like a moment for your mouth to open in amazement. In a split second you knew where Dylan got his good looks, and it was only a fraction of how mouth watering his dad was.

He wonders in with sweatpants low on his hips wearing a band t-shirt and his long curly hair was wet from a shower. As he shuffled by to the fridge, the scent of aftershave invaded your nose and somehow it just went straight to your core. He was certainly fit even for a dad, slight dad bod but nothing to poke at, you could tell he worked with his hands.

“Forgot my pass.” He mutters, looking through another drawer.

“I saw it this morning, so I put it in your bag as you were heading out.” His dad mentions off hand, getting the ingredients for a bowl of cereal out. As he lifted his hands over his head revealing a tattoo on his tummy and the treasure trail saliva entered your mouth like water bursting through a man-made dam.

“Seriously?” Dylan dead pans. He turns to you, and you switch your glance to seem innocent like you haven’t been eye-fucking his dad. “I’m gonna go double check it’s in there. Just stay here be right back.” He kisses you on the forehead and leaves without giving you a chance to protest.

“Nice, to meet you, by the way.” He says in a gruff voice as he pours the sugary cereal into the bowl.

“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Munson.” Your voice sounded strained; you were hoping you were just imagining it.

He lets out a noise in disgust, his face scrunching up comically. “Oh god. Don’t call me that. Call me Eddie. Never Mr. Munson. Gross.”

You smile closed mouthed at his genuine disgust for it, and Eddie presents a smile as if your laughter was the long-term goal. “Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“Much better.” He praises you, and it might be the closest thing you’ll ever get to the kind of praise you wanted from him, the kind where you find yourself on your knees in the kitchen, but you happily accepted it. Any crumbs you would happily take.

He could spit on you, and you would thank him.

Oh. That’s…new.

That wasn’t something you felt with Dylan at all. If Dylan had decided to spit on your face during sex, you would call the police. It would turn you off so fast you would kick him off you.

“Going to Lake Maureen?” He asks you, supposedly making small talk.

“Nope.” You tell him. “Museum.”

Eddie tilted his head, and from his shoulder’s shaking and the slow smile you could tell he was laughing.

“Yes.” You affirm.

“Where did you meet again?” Eddie asks as he puts away the milk, his voice seeming to extend from a thought he doesn’t share.

“Oh, a mixer.”

“Not the church mixer.” Eddie tilts his head, seeming genuinely fearful it was the truth.

You confirm that yes, it was the church mixer.

Eddie grabs a mug to pour the coffee you hadn’t noticed had he put on. As his hands cup a graphic mug you couldn’t see the comic for, you see the silver rings on his fingers and if your core wasn’t heated up before, it certainly was now. He leans forward, taking a sip of straight black coffee for a minute. “Sweetheart. You’re far too pretty to be going to a goddamn mixer. No wonder he was so fucking enthralled when he got home that day.”

You feel your face heat up at the nickname followed by him calling you pretty. Your thighs squeeze together as you attempt to force your heart back into your chest where it belonged. Somehow your extremities were freezing, and all the heat was centered in your pussy, just soaked from his presence alone.

He could tell you weren’t taking the compliment seriously. “Seriously. If he fucks it up and you end up single again no more fucking mixers for you.”

“Not like I had any more choices.” You defend yourself, not knowing why his insistence turned you on so much.

Eddie rolls his eyes as if he didn’t believe you. His mouth opens to tell you something, and the sound of Dylan bursting through the front door seems to cut him off. “Oh, you should’ve told me, we could’ve been almost there by now. Come on, baby! See you dad!”

The door slams, and you guessed you were supposed to follow him. “Um, you were gonna say something?” and the mystery is just too much for you.

“Oh. Was I? Totally forgot.” Eddie shrugs, putting his coffee mug down, having chugged that entire cup within the conversation. “Have fun.”

He scoops another spoonful of sugary cereal in his mouth, the dimples on his face prominent but the smile devious.

That smile would haunt you for the next twelve hours.

The trip with Dylan was alright, he swore up and down it was the best trip and it just brought you both closer as a couple. You probably would’ve agreed. A trip to the beach with Dylan Munson sounded enticing and sexy and adventurous for the most part until you met his dad.

Now thoughts of his flexed forearms has he gripped the counter while talking to you, wet hair smelling beautifully of the musk shampoo he used invaded your mind. Dylan fingering you on the beach under your skirt was yes, smoking hot, but as you imagined a certain someone else doing the same it brought you to your orgasm much quicker and much harder. Dylan figured he must be doing something right.

Guilt evaded you as you knew what the hell you were doing was wrong. You now had an excuse to get rid of him, you were far more into his dad than you ever were into him, and it should’ve been a sign.

But if you broke up with him now, you wouldn’t be able to see his dad. Yet as you took a walk down the shoreline into a cave and your eyes close picturing certain ringed fingers gripping your hips as Dylan did it made the sneaking off and the public sex that much hotter.

Seems you were sluttier than your initial sex life led you to believe. Turns out, you just haven’t met a man you wanted to be slutty for. Public sex seemed fun in theory, always so nerve wrecking in practice.

Public sex with Eddie felt like you wanted to get caught with him, fully enjoying his cock and letting people see. Voyeurism mixed with public embarrassment was suddenly hot and you got so into it that Dylan expressed how excited he was to fuck you on the next hike you took together, something he has expressed much interest in, but you denied bashfully every time.

Because with Dylan sex wasn’t all encaptivating. Sure he could make you cum, but you were never ready to rip off his clothes in a heartbeat. The moment you saw Eddie your fingers started to itch for that damn low sitting sweatpants for them to droop just a little…bit…more.

Dylan drops you off with a romantic wet kiss, and you walk into the door of your apartment in a daze. Before you can even think about it, you find yourself on your bed, your skirt around your ankles and two of your fingers down your bikini bottoms.

You start to take them off but there’s a voice you picture saying, “No, no. Keep them on like the whore you are.” It was not Dylan’s.

You listened to it, pretending to rub your clit in front of him watching. You could see a wild eye on his face, picturing him not being able to touch you driving him mad. The heat that expands into your pussy from that thought alone drives your hips for more friction. “Oh so fucking needy, yeah?” You imagine him saying to you, and fuck, you couldn’t not think of him being good at dirty talk. “Need this cock, don’t ya?”

The image of him slowly working the elastic waist-band of his sweatpants made you moan aloud, needily grinding on your own fingers.

“Too damn bad. You’re just gonna have to make yourself cum, like the slut you are.”

The slight foreplay you were accidentally given all day through your own imagination mixed with how fucking wet you were brought you to a quick orgasm, fluttering in your extremities as you continued imagining the wild eyes on Eddie’s face or the firm voice as he didn’t give you a choice on your dating pool.

This was the first truly earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life. One that you truly had to recover from…and it was from just picturing this man.

Something in you wanted the real thing, and you were terrified of how willing you were to go through with it, and equally as terrified of going through life wondering what it could’ve been like

If sex with Eddie Munson was as good as the orgasm you gave yourself, you might have to be Dylan’s stepmom, because you just found what was missing.

“Hey baby.” Dylan says, welcoming you as he opens the door.

You hold your pillow and a duffle bag sits on your shoulder for a sleepover, and the shorter shorts with a tank top you wear signalling you were ready for a night in. As you pass by him, Dylan gives out a low whistle to how well your ass is shown off in the pair of shorts you wore. They were so well fitting he could see you were either wearing a thong or nothing, but you could tell it turned him on. While this gave you a confidence boost, he wasn’t the target audience.

When you requested the sleepover Dylan warned you his dad would be there. Good. You assured him that would be fine. That was the goal.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Eddie calls down to you, and the smile invades your face before you could stop it.

“Hi, Mr. Munson!” You call out, and the sound of gagging is heard. “I meant Eddie!”

“Oh, I forgot he gets everyone to call him by his first name, like a lame youth pastor.” Dylan rolls his eyes, tugging on your hand to bring you to the couch in the living room. “Movie?”

You nod jerkily. Dylan works around you, getting a blanket, popcorn, and the movie all set up. He turns down the lights, winking at you suggestively as he does so.

Less than five minutes into the movie, the beginning credits still lingering on to the actors he leans in with an open mouth, his hand making its way to your hip. With the smell of him still fresh, being able to smell him on the couch you were on, it was easy to get eagerly into the kissing. This encouraged Dylan, of course confusing your eagerness for him. He reaches down, placing two of his fingers over your clothed pussy.

You moan lightly, and he shushes you softly. Mentally you roll your eyes, because he was telling you to be quiet because his dad was home.

You were hooking up with him on his couch because his dad was home. You listen to him anyway, and he starts to rub in small circles, you moan even higher, imagining he could hear you and getting off to it. “Shh, baby.” Dylan whispers. “Oh, you’re wet. Fuck.”

He slips his hands into your shorts, leaning you down to rub your pussy and attack your neck at the same time. “Pussy feels…mazing.” Dylan mutters between the slobbery neck kisses he gives you. It was enough for you to picture him, but suddenly Eddie coming downstairs right now without knowing what you were doing got you off even more.

“Eat me out?” You ask him, and ever the gentleman he smiles devilishly at you as he crawls down. He goes to place the blanket over his head, and you stop him. “Wanna see your face.”

Okay, you wanted to see Eddie see your pussy as his son went down on you, but it made Dylan eager enough to dig in in a way you haven’t seen from him yet.

You whine from the hot pleasure it gave you, you grind on his face, the heat focused on your pussy in a way that has never happened before. The idea of Eddie accidentally walking in on you but watching instead of saying anything gets you off so easily Dylan is feeling your juices wet his chin and your ass like it never has before.

“Greedy baby.” He mumbles, placing two fingers into you and giving kisses to your thighs as he pumps them.

“Gonna cum soon, Dyl.” You warn him.

Luckily, Dylan knows it means to keep doing what he’s doing. You were close, but the sound of footsteps upstairs followed by a door closing pushed you over the edge, knowing he could very well be going to his room from elsewhere, but hoping he was at the top of the stairs.

Just the possibility of him being at the top pushed you over. “Holy shit.” Dylan mutters, crawling up to you. “Must’ve been riled up, huh.”

“Yeah.” You tell him, suddenly feeling Dylan’s boner poking the inside of your knee. “Mere, I wanna help you.”

“No, I wanna fuck you, let’s go to my room.”

His room…down the hall…where there’s a better chance he could hear you. “Sure!”

Eddie Munson was sure there was something out to get him. The moment your pretty fucking face greeted him in his kitchen when he wondered down fresh from a shower he was sure there was something laughing at this pure misery.

The smile on your face, the smell of your sweet perfume, the way your skirt hugged your hips all melted him into one pot. When you told him you met Dylan at a fucking mixer, he wanted to shoot the person who made you feel like you were worthy of being ogled at by a bunch of singles at an awkward church mixer.

A church mixer.

He hated that Dylan liked them, always said only weirdos go there and was sure Dylan as exaggerating when he expressed how gorgeous and out of his league you were.

His heart freezing at the sight of you sit perched on one of his stools, shyly watching your boyfriend, even only from the back made him wonder if angels were real. Fuck, he didn’t ask for any proof of your beauty when offered to show your Instagram, but he wouldn’t have believed it.

He spent that entire first conversation doing everything he could to be a fucking father figure and remind himself you were dating his son. He was not hitting on you at a bar, he was your boyfriend’s dad.

Somehow that just made the forbidden part about it that much hotter.

He felt like a pervert as the scent of your shampoo jumped out at him when he passed by you for the milk, and he had wanted to stop in place and take a big inhale. Felt like an even bigger pervert as he saw the string of your bikini bottom sitting high on your hip peaking out of your skirt and he just wanted to get a shot of that underskirt.

Every thought he had about you as your wit came through the conversation, he wondered what the hell you were doing with Dylan. He loved his kid, but you deserved better than what he knew his kid would provide.

He knew about Dylan that he’d be a great husband one day. Someone reliable and trustworthy enough to build a life with.

He didn’t want that for you. He wanted you to have something mind-blowing and earth shattering, something intoxicating. Something that made you feel the way he felt just by smelling your goddamn shampoo. Your teeny tiny bikini with your hair up in a messy bun with cute little sunglasses all somehow went to his cock, and he was glad you were called over before he said something even more stupid.

Eddie rolled his eyes at your claim there wasn’t a bigger dating pool, opening his mouth to retort--“Oh, you should’ve told me, we could’ve been almost there by now. Come on, baby! See you dad!”

The door slams, and that concluded the end of that conversation. “Um, you were gonna say something?” you ask him, and he wondered if the intrigue on your face was something he just imagined.

“Oh. Was I? Totally forgot.” Eddie lies. I was gonna say I am proof there is a bigger dating pool than you would believe, sweetheart… but he knew it would’ve said something he couldn’t unsay.

Dylan told him you were coming over for a sleepover, and he and Dylan’s room were only separated by the bathroom. Eddie might use the basement for the night because he didn’t trust his perverted mind not to seek you out and look at what little pjs you have chosen to wear. He gave you space out of respect when you arrived, wondering if it was flirting when you called him Mr. Munson.

Suddenly a noise that Eddie could only describe as the doorbell to heaven (or hell with what his mind was thinking) reached the door he had kept open for this very reason.

He kept his tv playing and sneaked off to the top of the stairs, hoping to catch his kid getting you off while you moaned under the covers. The treat he was given was far better, the hand over your tight ass shorts feeling you up as you leaned back and whined all high pitched. Eddie’s cock was so hard at the moment not touching it would be like self-neglect.

He backed up against the wall by the stairs, listening to your moans as he got you off, desperately wishing it was his fingers in your wet heat. He imagined your scrunched up face as you made those stunning noises, starting to stroke himself. A pause occurs, your blissed out voice asking him to eat you out. He bites back a moan at wanting to taste you, wanting to get all up in those juices and to show him how much you turned him on. He leans over the wall into the stair entry, expecting the blanket to be covering you but instead being met with your pussy on full display.

A low guttural moan escapes his throat, fucking into his fist and pretending it was you bent over for him instead, whining the same exact way. He knew you would have a pretty pussy, but this was just un-fucking fair.

You warn Dylan you were about to cum, and that pushes him over his own edge, and he suddenly has a mess he needs to clean up all over his fist. God he wanted you to clean it, to suck it all up. He was making himself hard again and he had to flee to his fucking bedroom to wash up.

Suddenly the creak of the stairs erupts as he is cleaning himself up, and Dylan’s door closes. Oh. They’re…continuing.

Your moans are suddenly loud, and Eddie finds himself hard again as he realizes he’s hearing you being fucked. Oh, he knew you were a fucking dirty slut.

Just fucking knew it. Something that hasn’t happened since he was in his 20s, but he’s ready to jerk himself off within minutes of just cumming. “Yeah, my whore being fucked open, letting everyone hear how good she feels, oh shit.” Eddie mutters to himself, right next to his door.

He ends up finishing at the same time you did, which didn’t take either one of you very long.

The next morning you wake next to Dylan sleeping with a big smile on his face. To him, that was the best sex you’ve ever had together. Mixed with your adventure at the beach last week, you guys were doing better than ever.

To you, it was only amazing because you kept thinking of Eddie fucking you and it did everything for your core. You get up in the tiny pair of pajamas you had packed, something that barely covered your ass and headed downstairs for some breakfast.

As you were leant down to assess the cereals, you heard the stride of someone come in behind you.

Eddie walks in behind you, holding back a swear as he sees your pussy peaking out of your pajama bottoms. A gentleman, and not knowing you fully reciprocated every horny thought, he ignores it and hopes you sit up.

You don’t, leaning even more forward and making a show of wondering what to eat. Eddie inhales, allowing himself to watch you. You turn around to him jerking his head away, and you felt some pride in getting his attention. “Morning.” You greet him, offering a bowl for him.

He rejects it. “Not hungry.”

“Oh.” You pour cereal, and Eddie focuses on not staring at your beaded nipples peaking through the tiny silk top you wore.

“Fuck.” He whispered, the boner growing.

“Something wrong?” You ask him innocently, and knowing this was working to your benefit made you nervous but eager.

“Lots to do today.” Like jerk off another three times.

“Like what?” You asked, taking a spoonful of cereal even though you had no appetite from the butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh not much.” Eddie wonders to you, and by reaching over you to grab the cereal he wonder if he could sneak a smell from your shampoo.

You sit up as he leans away, and you are so close you can see just how gorgeous he is. God, those brown eyes. “Do you have any…one to do?” You ask, glancing back and forth between his pretty lips and his even prettier eyes. You didn’t even know which ones to focus on.

Eddie leans in a bit to you, just ghosting over your lips. “Are you sure…that you want this?”

You nod, your eyes glazing over in want as the arousal in your gut suddenly exploded into a need.

“Cause…cause if we do this there is no going back. If your pussy…” he inhales sharply, taking a breath of your hair. “is as good as I imagine, there’s no way I’m giving you back.”

This sentence turns you into gelatin, and you lean forward to finally kiss him, his lips rough as he seemingly forgets how to act for a moment.

His brain finally catches up and he grabs onto you, inhaling and messy kisses, and grabby hands all at once as he tries to do everything he’s wanted to. Your hands make their way into his hair, and it was as soft as you pictured it. His lips messily kiss down your jaw onto your neck and you let out a whine. He smiles widely at that. “Good. One I made. Needed that.”

“You heard me…yesterday?” You asked, wetter from the idea of it.

“Heard you? Fucking came to it.” He swears, as he continues an assault on your neck. You moan in response, your hips involuntarily grinding up. “Come on, upstairs.”

You almost wanted to get caught by Dylan, but to keep it going longer you follow Eddie giddily upstairs as he trips over himself and you felt like a goddamn teenager. You follow him into his room, and the curtains were blackout curtains, the lights turned off giving the illusion of everything being dark. “Can we turn on the lights?” You ask, delicately. “I wanna see you.”

Eddie turns on his dimmer switch light so it was low, and the look in his eye as he approaches you sat on his bed had a level of lust in them that drove you wild. He leans in to give you a kiss after sitting right by you, and it wasn’t enough touching for you. You crawl forward as you eagerly kissed him back, straddling his lap. “Fuck, sweetheart, you are fucking gorgeous.” He mutters, the silk pajamas you wore bunching up in his hands as he grabbed at it. “The little strap that peaked out of your skirt tied together was just tempting me to unwrap you like a present.” He huffs, still kissing your neck. You find yourself impatient, wanting his lips back on yours.

“Fuck, been thinkin’ about you on my cock ever…” he inhales your perfume with a deep grunting sigh of content. “ever since.”

You mewl to his confessions, and he’s a much better talker than you could’ve imagined. Your hips start to grind on their own accord and with the little fabric they have between your silk shorts and his thin pajama pants you felt his hard cock fairly easily. You let out a high moan of contentment, and Eddie watches as you grind on his cock and get yourself off so easily. “Oh shit, she’s a dirty slut, hey.” Eddie comments leaning back and watching you grind yourself. “Doesn’t even need a cock inside her, will just take anything I give her with a smile on her face.”

“I would—” you gasp, the material scratching your clit in the best way, “I would take any crumbs, fuck.”

You start to moan higher and grind faster, and Eddie wanted to make you cum by his hands or his mouth the first time but you making yourself cum against his pants meant he was now using this as a fucking cum rag to smell you when you weren’t near. “Take off those shorts, doll. Wanna see your pussy.”

“Ok.” They are yanked off without a second thought.

“Oh, good listener. What a good girl.” He comments petting your hair gently as you continued to grind again with your heat now directly against his pj pants, he could feel it against his cock. “Oh, fuck, you are soaked. My fucking horny slut.”

“Horny for you.” You whimper the edge just right there.

“Whoring herself out for the Munsons.” He comments, sort of bitter he had to hear you fuck his son before he could claim you.

“Pictured it was you.” You admit, your voice in a whisper as you confessed but the high you wanted almost there.

“Fuck, did you?” He asks, the idea you only enjoying it so much because you pictured him.

“Mmhmm. Pictured you watching me, too.”

“Fucking little voyeur.” He whispers, and you nodded. He rewarded you by grabbing your hips and rutting against you and hitting your clit even harder and your orgasm snuck up on you, and the extra attention Eddie pays you as he watches it wash through you only helps the high take longer to recover from.

“Oh my god.” You whisper, a last of the intense orgasm still running through you.

“Not done.” Eddie whispers, a big smirk on his face. He lightly pushes you down and grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulder. You watch him carefully, his face looking at your pussy at a way that would usually resolve in embarrassment. Instead, it only turned you on more because it meant he wanted you just as much.

He dives into your pussy with a level of expertise that only came from years of pleasuring women. You don’t know why but you knew he got off to pleasuring others from the moment you saw him and every moan you let out he absorbed it, getting better and better as your verbal ques direct him. The heat in your pussy intensifies as he continues, fucking two of his fingers into you.

You place your hands in his hair, grinding up when the feeling of wanting to be fucked takes over you. “No, patience baby. I need to see what you look like when you squirt.”

“I-I can’t—”

“Every woman can, sweetheart. Just means you’ve had no one show you yet. Feel that?” He asks you, the heat in your pussy expanding as he continued to attack your clit and finger fuck you.

You nod, the feeling in your gut like a tidal wave of pleasure.

“Focus on it.” You do, and as you do you look up at his eyes, already staring into yours as he assesses your reactions. The heat intensifies by a thousand, and the feeling of wanting to…pee…takes over.

“Fuck—” you start to protest.

“Let it happen. Let go. It’ll feel so fucking good…baby let go. Gonna feel so fucking good.” You trust him so you let go and a gush invades your ear as a red-hot pleasure makes home in your pussy. “One more?” Eddie asks you, his thumb now messaging your clit.

You twitch under him, your bud being so sensitive. “Oh fuck, Ed. Too much.”

“No, I think you can cum again. Wanna see that beautiful face all scrunched up. Wanna take a photo.” He holds out his phone casually, and your face heats up. “Not feeling all the sudden shy, are ya? You whored your little pussy for me how is this different?”

“Its…” you manage out, already close again. “Its hot.”

“She gonna cum again, all over my fingers?”

“All over your fingers.”

“You gonna lick em clean?”

“Can we share?”

Eddie groans audibly, titling his head back. “Of course, doll. Of fucking course, now cum all over them, please.”

The third orgasm takes over your body, and it’s so goddamn good you stop responding for a minute which causes Eddie to panic. “Oh shit, you okay?”

Giggles burst out of you, the kind of post orgasm giggles you’ve only read about in spicy novels. You thought they were fake. “Can I suck you off now?”

Eddie’s eyes bulge, and he realizes his hand is still on your pussy. He taps it lightly, causing you to whine. He lifts the finger first, inserting it into your mouth. “Suck this first.” You wrap your tongue around it, keeping eye contact as you taste yourself, and this is the only time it’s ever been truly hot to be able to taste yourself. Other times it was just perplexing.

Eddie takes the other finger when you let go and starts sucking on it, he closes his eye, enjoying the taste of your pussy on his tongue. Eddie crawls onto his bed and you basically pounce him, yanking his pj pants down as fast as they go, wanting to see his cock. His eyes watch you, blown and enwrapped in lust as he watches your eagerness.

As his cock pops out of his pants, an involuntary smile spreads across your face. The head to his cock was so pink, he must’ve been horny. “Oh, pretty cock.” You mutter, and he wasn’t even sure if you were saying to him or just saying it out loud. “Oh my god, look how pink your head is. Mmm..sure seem like you need some attention.”

You take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it alone but getting used to his girth. Holy he was gonna hurt even with how wet you were. You start sucking on it, taking bit by bit more into your mouth each time, eagerly making sloppy spit sounds as you did so. It wasn’t hard to generate the spit you needed, the sight of his dick made your mouth water.

Your head bobbed up and down on it, illicit sounds being drawn out of him, only encouraging you more as the feeling of his rings harsh against your scalp making you wet. You pop off him, spit connected from your mouth to his dick. You lean forward to his treasure trail, licking the hair and biting at it, something you’ve wanted to do since you saw him. You find your way back down and passed his cock and he’s about to ask when take one of his balls into your mouth, sucking loudly.

“Oh fuck, do you know how to use that pretty little mouth. Holy shit.” You roam over it with your tongue, sucking it in and out repeatedly. Then you move on to the next one, giving it its own show as well. Your mouth moves back to suck on his cock but he tugs on your hair to bring him up to you.

“Want you to face fuck me.” You say to him, still not done sucking on his cock.

“Nother time. Lemme fuck you.” He mutters, tugging on the shirt you still wore. You crawl back up to straddle him, nothing between his cock and your pussy now, but he places his cock on it so the shaft slides in-between your folds, teasing you, and causing you to whine. “Oh shit.” He works on the buttons holding your silky pink shirt, the skilled hands working fast through each one. As each one reveals another inch of skin, he feels more intoxicated by you, especially how you’re begging him to put his cock in. Your tits fall out of the shirt, and he rips the back off you, and you let it fall to the floor. You grab onto his band shirt, attempting to move it off him. You barely do it, the feeling of his cock so close inside you causing your focus to fall apart in seconds. He laughs, nearly cruel, yanking the shirt off, revealing more tattoos you’ve never seen. Your hands flutter to his chest, moving to each tattoo and touching every inch you can.

Your mission to focus and analyze each tattoo is interrupted by him maneuvering you onto your back. You lay there, open and ready for him. “Holy shit, fucking smoking hot.” He mutters, like he couldn’t believe you were here with him.

It was you who was the lucky one, he was crazy.

“You’re hotter.” You mutter, as he starts to align his cock with your entrance. “Thought of you last night, made myself cum so hard.”

“Oh fuck. What was I doing?” He asks, still teasing you with it.

“Just watching me finger myself. Talking me through it. Calling me a whore.” He groans, tapping his cock on it. “Please, Ed need your cock.”

“Beg for it, you fucking slut.” He whispers, something taking over him.

“Please, daddy. Want your cock. Want you to fuck me like a ragdoll. Please, pretty please fuck me until I’m a puddle. I just want your cock in me, so fucking bad.”

“Gonna be a good slut for me?”

“Yes..I will I promise.”

He chuckles darkly and finally…finally moves into you. Your eyes cross and a moan so erotic leaves your body and you had barely a single ounce of control over that left your mouth at that point.

Eddie puts his head into your neck, feeling your head tighten around him in pleasure as you got used to his girth and length.

“Move…please?”

“Thought you were gonna take the crumbs I gave you, slut.” He mutters.

“Fuck. Sorry.”

He smiles and your fingers fidgeting at your sides were a dead giveaway you were just needy for him to move. It made him feel fucking powerful just his cock could make you feel like this. He starts rocking, slowly and you whine from this resolve alone. “Oh what a fucking whore, just needed a good fucking.” He mutters into your ear, his hand finding its way to your neck. “Putting her pussy on display for me, showing she just needed someone to know how to fuck her.”

You say nothing in response, and his hips are starting to rock against yours harder. Your eyes reach the back of your head as you lose air, but you revel in the feeling of nearly passing out as he takes his hand off. “Holy shit, you really are just a whore.”

You nod, eyes half lidded as you looked up at his pussy drunk eyes. “Little…cockdrunk…slut…” he inhales sharply and a wad of spit hits your face and you find yourself opening your mouth for more. “Fuck—” his hips stutter at the sight of your smile when his saliva hits your mouth. He spits right into it as you open for more and you act like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, cause it was.

Your tongue pokes out, gasping in more need. His hips are against yours so harshly you would’ve been afraid of bruising if it didn’t fucking turn you on so bad.

“Fucking slut, you want me to cum in you? Wanna be filled with my fucking cum?” You nod, too cocked out to speak, you’ve never felt this good from penetration alone before. “Cum with me, doll.” He mutters using his two fingers against your clit as he leans in to kiss you. Within moments you flutter around him, moaning into his mouth and he lets go of your kiss, stuttering his hips and letting out a loud moan as you feel him fill you up.

His body weight collapses ontop of you, and his hands are suddenly gentle as they sweep at your bangs sticking to your sweaty forehead. “Fuck.” He mutters, giving you a dazed-out look of pure adoration. “That was much better than anything I came up with.”

You nod in agreement, words still not coming to your mouth.

“You were such a good girl, yeah?” You smile, a heat coming up to your cheeks. “You listened to me so well. C’mere.” He wraps your lips in a kiss, his cock still in you, still hard and keeping all his cum in you.

“C-can we stay like this?” You ask timidly, not wanting his cock to leave yet.

“Ooh, baby wants to cock-warm? Sure. Wanna turn on a movie until 9, when Dylan usually wakes?” Eddie asks, already leaning towards the channel changer on his beside table.

Having to tell Dylan it was pretty much over the moment Eddie kissed you hadn’t even crossed your mind, and it would eventually twenty minutes into the movie when you got back to earth. Eddie knew the realization would kick in eventually so he let you watch a movie of your choice, sitting up on his bed with you straddled on his lap after a bit of maneuvering so you could both see the movie on his screen adjacent to his bed.

Eventually, Dylan was gonna wake.

Eventually, a storm would hit.

But for now, Eddie stayed inside you to pretend like it wasn’t over yet.

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