#despite the fact they look like they’re studying me! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseoksluna · 1 month

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LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for.

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift.

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too.

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed.

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight.

You couldn’t.

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair.

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words.

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely.

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis.

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed.

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.”

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it.

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.”

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable.

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?”

You exhaled, he inhaled.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek.

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in.

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.”

Your body panics, but you will it to relax.

“Does that come with the premium subscription?”

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps.

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms.

“I get to take Bam?”

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?”

Probably not. Definitely not.

“But what about Bam?”

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words.

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.”

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell.

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it.

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.”

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly.

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows.

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead.

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it.

Jungkook groans.

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity.

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back.

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body.

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers.

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline.

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it.

You want him.

It began with a ring and ended right here.

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled.

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss.

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t.

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago.

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you.

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper.

Jungkook grips your waist hard.

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy.

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples.

“Kiss me, then.”

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth.

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step.

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.”

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles.

“Bam, house.”

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that.

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him.

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.”

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him.

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists.

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.”

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?”

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them.

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list.

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course.

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.”

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting.

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?”

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact.

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?”

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties.

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.”

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.”

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.”

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself.

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him.

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears.

No attachment, no liking.

Just sex.

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm.

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted.

You broke him.

And now you have to face the repercussions.

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal.

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all.

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.”

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have.

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it.

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break.

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in.

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm.

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is.

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid.

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening.

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning.

A lump forms in your throat.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship.

Flowery or deceitful?

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.”

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you.

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps.

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.”

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.”

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened.

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum.

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him.

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun.

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin.

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing.

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself.

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long.

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?”

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.”

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline.

“Are you scared?”

You’re an empty canvas.

“Not anymore.”

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?”

“Okay.”

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?”

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.”

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt.

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set.

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy.

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks.

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.”

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie.

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?”

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod.

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child.

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs.

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red.

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them.

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach.

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?”

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.”

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?”

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy.

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features.

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good.

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.”

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens.

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs.

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you.

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.

Jungkook sees you.

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips.

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you.

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.”

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you.

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around.

“Feels good, baby?”

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.”

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.”

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring.

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?”

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted.

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff.

“Did so well for me.”

The whisper takes you back and you awake.

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good.

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?”

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change.

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.”

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth.

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy.

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks.

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration.

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.”

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is.

Musk, vanilla, wood.

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout.

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew.

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.”

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?”

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos.

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts.

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully.

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?”

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.”

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number.

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?”

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.”

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare.

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him.

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?”

You nod. “So bad.”

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough.

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?”

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.”

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?”

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.”

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance.

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him.

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again.

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go.

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge.

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore.

Neither, evidently, can he.

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands.

So vulnerable.

You ache.

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head.

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth.

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets.

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny.

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head.

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.”

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan.

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind.

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin.

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?”

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it.

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans.

“Talk to me.”

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk.

He stares you down.

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling.

“I won’t play with you, then.”

Panic. “No.”

He cocks a brow at you. “No?”

Silence.

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm.

“Jungkook.”

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs.

“Beg.”

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you.

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You groan in frustration.

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.”

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it.

“Where?”

A challenge. Your throat dries up.

“There.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that.

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.”

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that.

“Lick my clit, please.”

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.

“Like this?”

You choke out a moan.

“Yes, please.”

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?”

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy.

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.”

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you.

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens.

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you.

Daddy and little girl.

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls.

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror.

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.”

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell.

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?”

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin.

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens.

“But what if it doesn’t fit?”

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake.

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.”

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected.

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him.

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow.

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head.

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him.

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, trusting him.

He pecks you. Smiles.

“How many orgasms are we at?”

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?”

“You obliterated my expectations.”

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.”

You blush, eyes twinkling.

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.”

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad.

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness.

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss.

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel.

“I don’t stop coming.”

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?”

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?”

You scoff. “Just one.”

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?”

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently.

He didn’t break his promise.

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides.

And there you feel it.

The sensation unlike any other.

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?”

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms.

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.”

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come.

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you.

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?”

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep.

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much.

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.”

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam.

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.”

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.”

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak.

“Please, come for me.”

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?”

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.”

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat.

Jungkook grunts.

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.”

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length.

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all.

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way.

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all.

“Good girl. Good little princess.”

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?”

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes.

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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strawberrysturniolo · 3 months

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can u do a fic where chris is w/ pregnant Reader and the reader has to tell him but chris finds out by himself. sorry if it’s so dry 😅

baby love // chris sturniolo

kinda took a different spin on this idea… hope you enjoy!!

summary: when you and your friends jokingly take some pregnancy tests, the nights becomes very serious when one of them comes up positive.

I had invited my friends over for some drinks tonight, the first time we’ve all been able to catch up with our busy work schedules and some of our studies.

I had been so busy trying to be a good host, making use of the limited room in my apartment, that my drink had sat untouched for hours.

No stupid ideas had been made until my friend Ramona opened her mouth.

“This is gonna sound super weird,” she started to say. “But I had ordered a few shitty pregnancy tests to prank my boyfriend with, and I don’t know what to do with the rest, so I brought them over and I thought we could all take one for shits and giggles.”

“That is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Lula remarked. I couldn’t keep myself from agreeing.

“We’ve all been drinking,” I remind Ramona. “If someone’s pregnant then we shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Well, none of us are gonna be pregnant,” she says in a matter of fact tone. “It’s just preparation for when we’re all pregnant at the same time, taking tests together.”

“I think it’s a cute idea, but maybe that’s the tequila talking,” Ellie adds.

I shrug, laughing at them. “Whatever, you guys go have fun peeing together.”

“Ummm,” Ramona looks at me with a devilish smile. “You’re coming with!”

Despite my arguing, here I am in the bathroom, peeing on a stick.

To make this situation worse, Ellie thought it was a great idea to scramble the tests up, so now we have no idea which test belonged to which person.

I leaned against the wall of the bathroom while my three friends stared at the sink’s counter, waiting for the results.

At the sound of a timer going off, my friends squealed as they flipped the tests over.

“Oh my god,” they say together.

It’s in that moment that I run to the sink, looking to see what they are gasping at.

Shit.

One of these is positive, and we have no clue who.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s take some more tests. You have more, right?”

Ramona grabs her bag, scrambling for some more pregnancy tests. “I have two. So if two of us take it and they’re negative, we can get two more and try the other two girls. If one of these is positive, then we know who it was.”

“I’ll do it,” Ellie volunteers. “I hooked up with a guy a few weeks ago. My period hasn’t come around yet, but we hooked up at the end of my cycle, so I haven’t missed it yet. I’m not gonna be able to relax until I know if I’ve been drinking while I’m… you know.”

Lula stares at me from across the bathroom.

“What?” I snap, now scared of the chances of one of these belonging to me.

“You’re the one with a long term boyfriend,” she reminds me, mumbling, like she can sense that I’m about to break.

Chris and I have been dating less than a year. Everything is great, but I’m in no way in the position to have a baby right now. Neither is Chris.

“Whatever. I’ll take it,” I say, and I’m playing that same waiting game again.

This time, we keep track of the tests, mine in my hand, and Ellie’s in hers. We stand in a circle silently, until the timer interrupts our peace again.

When I flip the test over, I feel everything around me fall.

Fuck.

I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I want to be a mom more than anything, but I wanted to do this with Chris. I wanted us to plan this out. I wanted us to take the test together. I wanted us to be married, have a place together. I wanted this to be for us, not for my friends to suggest taking tests as a joke.

Thank god I didn’t have that drink.

I sit on the edge of the toilet, tears coming out of me before I can process any emotion. I cant figure out what these tears are. Happy? Sad? Confused? Scared?

I just want Chris.

—

The girls left for the night. We spent the next few hours trying to make light of the situation. They were supportive of me and wanted me to gather myself, and we practiced what I’m going to tell Chris.

I mean, there’s no doubt that this is his. It’s only ever been me and him.

As I’m finishing up my cleaning, I hear two knocks on my apartment door, followed by the creak of the hinges as the door swings open.

“Hey, baby,” Chris smiles at me.

I feel my heart drop, knowing I have this secret on the tip of my tongue, but I have no idea how to get it out.

I wave to him, I fucking wave to my boyfriend. I can’t make a sound.

“Baby?” he asks, his gaze softening. He can always sense when something is wrong.

He calls me baby all the time, but hearing it after the news I got today just makes me frown. I can’t keep this from him.

He hurries over to me when he sees my face drop. His arms wrap around me in the tightest, most secure hug, only making me more emotion. The tears start spilling out, and without realizing, I’m fucking wailing.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he says quietly, in a comforting tone. He sways us back and forth, trying to calm me down.

“Can I show you something?” I whisper, trying not to break down even more if I try raising my voice.

“Of course.”

I grab his hand, pulling him to my bathroom. I lead him in front of the sink and point to the two positive pregnancy tests sitting on the counter. It takes him a moment to realize what they are, but when he does, I watch the color wash from his face. He swallows nervously, making me cry even more. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. Not at all.

I let out another sob, and in that moment, Chris puts his own fears aside to comfort me again. He turns me away from the test, hiding them from my viewpoint. He holds me against his chest, keeping my grounded as he shushes me.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay,” he assures me. “It’s gonna be fine.”

I shake my head against him. “You have your career. There’s so much you want to do. We had so many things we wanted to accomplish before we ever thought of a family.”

“Babe,” he says, cutting me off and grabbing my cheeks so I look at him, and only him. “This is between you and me. And I want to be with you more than anything else in the world. I have my whole life ahead of me to expand my career, but if this is a sign that this is the time we were meant to have a family, then I’m game if you are. You make the call here. I know what I want, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to make any one decision because of me.”

I love this man. So fucking much.

“I want to have babies with you,” I say. He nods, smiling softly.

“I want to have babies with you,” he says back.

“I wanted to do this together,” I tell him what I had told my friends. “I wanted this to be special.”

“It is special, because this is us. This is what was supposed to happen, don’t you think?”

I nod, letting him wipe my tears.

“All I want is for you to be happy. You can move in with me, or we can get our own place. We have a lot to figure out but trust me when I say it will get figured out. And you’re going to be the best fucking mom this world has ever seen.”

Some of that fear is replaced with excitement and passion at his words of encouragement, and he makes me sure of the fact that I could never imagine this with someone else.

It was always supposed to be him.

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @chrisloyalgf @strnilolo @qwertytit @55sturn @sleepysturnss @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturnvvz @swaggygirlboss123 @angelworldspost @patscorner @ducksturniolo @mattitties @luv4kozume @mbbsgf @freshloveforthefit @gamermattsgf @strniololoverr @urmom2bitch @sturnitup @luvmila444 @st7rnioioss @sturniolosreads @1201pm-blog @pepsiskiess @alorsxsturn @sturniolopepsi @sturnsgasoline @sturns-posts @sstvrnioloo @strawberrymilk4k @kiibichio @nickmillersn1gf @milesfordays11 @l9vesick @mattsturnzzz09 @mattnchrisworld

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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ohwowimlonley · 3 months

Note

idk if you do fluff, but if you do:

sirius finding out you have stuffed animals. youre all nervous about having him over and forgot to put them away, afraid of his reaction. but then hes all cutie with them, making them talk to eachother, etc.

idk if this is a good idea but i just thought of this concept & wanted to share!

Hihi!! Im sorry this one took me so long, and that it’s so short, but i hope you enjoy!!

You had totally forgotten to clean your room this morning. In your defense, you usually only hang out with Sirius in his room, or the common room, despite the fact that you have a private dormitory. But then the other marauders called for a ‘private planning session’, the common room was full, and Sirius still wanted to hang out.

When Sirius opens the door and stops dead in his tracks, you remember your negligence with a gasp. Your stuffies. How on earth could you forget? As soon as you wake up in the morning, you always put your friends back in their little box by the side of your bed. And the one time you forget, your boyfriend decides to come over?

“Oh, uh,” you’re not even sure where to start, especially when Sirius ventures towards your bed, right where your stuffed animals are laid out. You press your lips together and try to hold back the tears welling up in your eyes from the embarrasment. Would he think you’re weird?

“What’s this one’s name?” He picks up a lime green felted crocodile with dark tufts of synthetic hair for spikes. He holds it gently, looking down at it instead of you, and studying his little snout, “I like him,”

You sniff, and move forwards to take your teddy from your boyfriends’ hands and cradle him into your chest, “Spike,”

“He’s cool, what about this one?” He points to a pink hippo on the far side of your bed, sitting down on the satiny sheets and patting the spot next to him. You hesitate at first, biting on your bottom lip as you eye him suspiciously. Sirius slumps down in his seat a little, then smiles sypathetically, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“They’re silly,” you whisper, dropping your eyeline to the ground. You feel mean saying it about your friends, but you’re hoping he might forget about this whole thing if you make it seem like you don’t care about them.

“Hey!” He protests, snatching up your blue whale stuffy and holding her against his chest, putting his hands over where her ears would be, “don’t say that about them! That’s mean!”

“Wendy,” you take her in your arms as well, then point to the hippo Sirius was asking about, and say, “kylie,”

#•megs ask box•#•megs pretty daydreams•#sirius black x female reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #sirius x reader #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders fic #marauders smut

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juuuulez · 25 days

Text

📋 | carmen berzatto nsfw alphabet.

don’t ask what possessed me today. it was definitely all the weed.

soo much nsfw under the cut….this is just paragraphs of porn.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act):

whatever ur carmy kink headcanons are i think we all agree that he’s really sweet afterwards :( he might suddenly get nervous or anxious and overthink everything you’ve done (“are you sure you’re alright?” “i know, i know, baby ‘m just.. i wanna take care of you, yeah?”) and you’ll have to assure him it’s okay! you loved it, he was perfect, he didn’t hurt you. he just wants some reassurance and then he’ll be finding you some water, a snack, whatever you need! (“just crackers? ‘cus i’ve got this new recipe, it’s a soup, i can make it—“ “nobody wants soup after sex, carm.”)

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers):

carmy doesn’t like many things about himself, initially.. until you’re quick to vocalise exactly how amazing he is. immediately, carmy is enamoured with just what he can do with his hands. his palm covering the entirety of your neck when you kiss, or how his fingers looked splayed over your hip. and fuck, his fingers! they’re really thick, and carmen secretly gets off on the fact that your fingers are so much smaller, so even alone, you’ll never be able to finger yourself as good, never be able to reach those spots that carmy touched with ease.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it):

let’s be so honest carmen berzatto marking kink is so real. it starts out as a practicality, pulling out to spill over your thighs, sticky white liquid that clung to your curves, and carmy found himself growing more aroused the longer he stared at it. now, even if you’re on the pill, carmy will pull out for the sole purpose of pumping his cum wherever he can, a physical reminder of what’s his, because despite all his flaws, you belong to him.

however, assuming carmy can hold back cumming well enough for this is bold, so it usually ends in covering your already sticky cunt and lower stomach in it.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory):

he jerked off with your panties once. it was near the start of your relationship, and carmen was so busy with the re-brand, he barely got to see you. so, one of the rare days he was over, he’d done some laundry for the both of you. and found some pink lace panties. and kept them. and, those nights he’d come home late and exhausted and slightly miserable, unable to call you for you were at home fast asleep, carmen.. used them to jerk off! sue him! he felt so guilty about it (poor baby) and admitted to it after a couple months of dating. he seemed so ashamed that you couldn’t help but go easy on the punishment… tying him to the bed and getting him off by only grinding over his swollen cock, wearing those same pink lace panties.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing):

of course he doesn’t. not properly, at least. carmy’s never had girlfriends, and maybe had a hook-up or two at fancy chef events in New York or Paris or wherever. nothing that mattered, at least. so this time, he’s careful and attentive. asking questions like he’s studying for a test, watching every single movement, every reaction. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking notes.

F= Favorite position:

ooof carmen definitely wants to see your face. he likes holding it in his big palms, whispering sweet words over your lips and swallowing your moans (“c’mon sweetheart, you can do it.. just one more for me, huh? fuck— your cunt fuckin’ wants it yeah? that’s it..”). probably missionary mostly, maybe he fucks you from behind one early-morning, his forehead pressed to your neck while the sun seeps in through the blinds.

G= Goofy (how serious are they):

not exactly serious, but he definitely gets into the zone. for him, sex isn’t casual, and it’s a time that means a lot to him. he’s choosing to be vulnerable for someone, and in turn, feels special that he’s allowed to see you like this. carmen can loose himself in the moment, his mind going uncharacteristically blank, too focused on the pure sensation and emotion connected with it. despite this, carmy can always be found gently tapping your cheek, pushing through the haze to ask “you with me, baby? feel good?”, because his pleasure only comes when you’re still into it.

H= Hair (grooming habits):

carmen doesn’t particularly allocate time to grooming down there, it’s not really a priority, unless his partner explicitly made it clear to him that was of interest. however, i don’t think carmy has the thickest of hair, just dark little curls in all the normal places. idk guys just thinking about shirtless lip…..he’s a pretty smooth guy.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty):

definitely depends. i wanna say a mix of both? when you’re into it carmen is so lovely, making sure to express how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. but private time doesn’t come around very often, so it’s usually instigated with a needy carmen coming home, exhausted from a long shift, his hands gripping at your waist before the words come out. his actions aren’t demanding at all, still gentle, but hurried and desperate to get inside your cunt.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often):

carmy is so a shower jerk person. i know guys i just know. he doesn’t like making a mess anywhere else, because it’s just an inconvenience, and cleaning the sheets or another shirt is just another useless task he doesn’t have time for. it’s rare he begins with the intention of jerking off, either. the hot shower melts away a day of tension, and carmen finds himself finally relaxing, finally tuning into his body, only to realise how much he needs this.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual):

we’ve already established the marking kink… and now listen 😝 i am a sub carmy truther guys! i can’t help it he’s so baby i need him to cry for me ;( but carmy definitely likes being bossed around, being told what to do, when he gets to cum.. it’s a change from being in control of literally everything, which most of the time carmen feels all he does falls apart, so he enjoys not having to think (which usually means second-guess and reconsider and debate and obsess).

L= Location (where they like to get it on):

every single carmen office quickie fic is SO SO SO SO SO SEXY they always have me foaming and barking like a rabid animal….however i’m gonna have to say his or your bed! he likes the idea of you being comfortable..bonus points for you guys probably fucking more often on the couch, since needy carmen can’t wait long enough to split you open :(

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons):

there are a variety of ways to get carmen in the mood, but his #1 is a confident partner who takes what they want. imagine carmy obsessing over the new menu, spending endless hours in the living room, papers and recipes and notes scattered over the table. you’ve barely gotten any attention all night, not necessarily in a needy way, just that this was supposed to be your night off together. the solution is actually quite easy: climbing onto the table, obscuring carmen’s vision of his work. before a protest can leave his lips, brows furrowed in confusion and slight distress, your hands are firmly pressing down on his shoulders. “you’re gonna eat me out, yeah? like you promised?” and he is DOWN on his knees, mind fucking short-circuiting, because suddenly there is nothing he’d rather do.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do):

carmen really doesn’t like seriously hurting you, so no intense spanking or choking. however i really love choking 🙄🙄 so i think he’d wrap his hand around your neck, his finger rubbing the hinge of your jaw, his warm palm a gentle assurance of the power he has without fully exercising it.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are):

pussy eating champ…carmen genuinely gets off on being able to make you feel good. his strong arms bracketing your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin, holding you to his mouth while his tongue fucks deep. carmy can’t help but rut against the mattress, hips hastily thrusting in tune to your moans, the swollen head of his dick rubbing against the sheets. “please, baby, please.. c’mon, just a little longer, please— i need it so fuckin’ bad.” he’ll cry into your cunt after your first orgasm, needing to eat your sopping pussy in order to cum.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed):

soft, grinding rolls of his hips against yours, holding your cunt against the base of his cock, letting your clit rub against his skin. carmen takes it slow, making sure to hit the spongy place right up inside you, the one that makes you cry and squirm.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard):

carmen prefers to take his time with it, but more often you find yourself hurriedly making love on the couch, bench, shower, maybe even his car. clothes scattered around the room, a bra on the chair, carmen’s boxers under the coffee table. he’ll take you wherever he can, whenever the time finally allows it, and he makes it deep and fast.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things):

anything you want, he’ll hear you out. carmen loves to learn, he wants to know everything that makes you tick, and will willingly absorb anything you have to teach. that’s not to say he isn’t nervous, as he finds himself always double-checking you’re still alright, asking if it still feels good.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts):

definitely a multiple rounds kinda guy. he can’t help it! the sight of you laying there, stripes of cum over your stomach and shiny slick on your thighs, carmen finds himself hard all over again. expect a round two, maybe three from him, and even then he’ll probably eat you out again.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers):

carmen doesn’t see the use for sex toys, since he’d much prefer to be the one providing you pleasure. definitely not fully opposed, though, he’ll fuck you long and slow with a vibrator on nights where he just wants to watch and study you.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves):

i 🩷 edging so carmen 🩷’s edging! carmy puts on this needy desperate front (“please, fuck, i need’a cum, ‘m not kidding.”) but there is NOTHING alike to carmy’s mind going completely blank after denying his third orgasm in a row, his cock swollen and throbbing with each pass of your hand, only for you to finally give him permission (“cum for me, carmy, i’ve got you.”)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk):

think about the lowest, guttural moans you’ve ever heard. as carmen gets closer, they taper off into higher whines, soft whispers into your skin about how much he wants this.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort):

now, carmen does not take disrespect in the kitchen, and clearly doesn’t tolerate people talking back. but you? there’s a certain fire in his stomach, when you glare at him over the pass, or don’t back up whenever he gets into your personal space. if you stand your ground, firm and sure about whatever you’re doing, carmen feels himself fostering a growing mixture of respect and arousal.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants):

i just KNOW carmen is thick…the stretch seems impossible every time, his cock filling up every inch inside your hot cunt, while carmen whispers that it’s going to be alright, that you can take it.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level):

higher than carmen has time for. hence the jerking off in the shower, and fucking you on the couch. he’ll take anything that he can get, for he knows time isn’t on his side.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after):

carmy will ask you a hundred questions about how you’re feeling, if you need anything, what he can do, before finally settling in beside you. sometimes he’ll lay there for a few minutes, before dragging himself up, uttering some excuse about needing to revise the new menu. you’ll fuss, try and pull him back down, and he’ll fold almost instantly.

#the bear fx #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #the bear smut

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lasciviouspoison · 1 year

Text

my first full length smut fic! this shit took weeks to edit ngl, but it was worth it. with that being said, there are probably still some mistakes so excuse those, lol. tw: breeding, eren calls himself “daddy”, word “mommy” is used, reader and eren are extremely (heavy emphasis on extremely) frustrated. not a tw, but like i always say, this is for my chubby black women, but all are free to read <3

eren has loved you for an extremely long time. he’s spoiled u, fed u, he’s even dressed you head to toe while you were sick.

yet, all of this spoiling and caring for u, does not warrant your brattiness right now.

he’s been studying tirelessly for his midterm for about 2 weeks now, finally on his last day of review before his test in a couple of days. yet, he can’t seem to focus because you keep coming in and out of your shared study every three seconds.

“‘ren, where are the extra washcloths?”

he looks up from his textbook, glasses falling off his nose a bit. you’re even dressed like a brat, skimpy little white tank top and baby pink panties. it makes his head hurt worse than the passage he’s read over 4 times now.

“there’s no way you’re asking me where fucking washcloths are right now. there’s no way.” he says with some bite to his voice. he just needs to finish these last two pages and the longer it takes him, the more it kills him.

your arms cross over your chest, pushing your bra-less chest up and exposing a bit of your chubby stomach. “does it look like i’m joking with you? where are they?”

he clenches his jaw and in a very clipped tone, he responds that they’re under the sink. you scoff slightly and walk out, making an effort to slam the door a bit harder than necessary.

he sits back in his chair and throws off his glasses, big tattooed hands wiping his face. eren knows he’s been neglecting you, and it’s killing him just as much as you. he’s tired of coming home from class too tired to touch you. he’s tired of you having to tell him to go lay down after his head rocked one too many times over his dinner plate.

he’s tired, but he’s not gonna let you act like a bitch just to get what you want. simply because it’s fucking working.

he pushes up from his desk and walks out of the study. he hears the bathroom cabinets opening, so he does everything but sprint to get there.

you peer over your shoulder at him and roll your eyes, “they weren’t under the sink. in fact, they’re all dirty cause, you know, you act like you can’t help with laundry anymore-“

erens grabbed you by the nape of your neck and brought your body close to his. you can hear his semi-heavy breathing despite still being bent over, which caused your heart to race a little. although you knew eren would never hurt you, it doesn’t mean that his pent up energy won’t go to waste.

“a couple things: one, don’t talk to me like i’m a fucking child. two, i do still help with laundry, there’s a whole basket full of folded shirts sitting on the bedroom floor that i didn’t get the chance to put away. and finally, you that cock hungry, or are you genuinely mad at me?” he finishes with a finger running up your spine, back arching at the feeling. he knows this rills you up, which is perfect for him. you don’t get to frustrate him and remain unscathed.

your eyes widened a bit, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop eren’s hand from moving. you could feel just how hard he was and it made you think that he almost had it worse than you. however, that doesn’t mean your just gonna lay here and take it.

“get the fuck off me eren” you said through tight lips. his hands now steadily making their way under your top, with you making no advances to stop him.

he bent down towards your ear as his body almost covers yours entirely, with his fingers now gently pulling at your nipples.. “you know what’s funny? you can act mad at me all you want, but this pretty pussy is never ever mad at me. maybe i should gag you and let her do the talking, at least she’s not a fucking liar” at this point, eren’s hands feel like hot coals against your body. while they slowly make their descent back down your body, you can feel your resolve slowly melting away under his touch.

before you could reply, his fingers begin to softly move along your covered slit, causing your breath to hitch. you push your hips back a little and eren gives you a breathless laugh in return.

“i know i’ve neglected you pretty baby. daddy’s really sorry, just let me make it up to you. i promise, you can have me all night if you just tell me what you really want”. sometimes, you swore that you could hear the smirk on eren’s lips.

you shook your head no and felt a soft slap to your pussy. you wanted to scream at him and tell him just how badly you missed him, but your mouth refused to open. you bit your lip once he began touching you again, attempting to coax a confession from your pretty lips.

you felt him bend over once again, this time to place small kisses behind your ear, kisses that started to travel down your neck and onto your back. the entirety of his ministrations were torture, but it was when he stopped kissing you and replaced his lips with his tongue to lick a stripe up your back that you really wanted to cave.

eren’s middle finger finally found your bare clit, the initial contact causing you to jump hard against his body. small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to maneuver on his fingers before he stilled your movements.

“m’not doin anything more till you tell me the truth. what do you want from me baby? tell me and i’ll give it you ya”.

you try to grind against his fingers once again before a hard smack to your ass forces you to stop. his grip on your hips tightening, letting u know that he’s really gonna deprive you until you speak.

“want you to touch me ren! wan’ you to fuck me so fucking bad!” you finally scream out.

every gives you a small chuckle before his middle and index finger burry themselves into your cunt. his body almost shakes at warmth you provide. blood rushing straight to his dick, making him indescribably hard.

“that’s it baby, that’s all i wanted to hear.” he sounds breathless, almost like he’s the one that’s been getting teased.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, a small squelching sound coming from your sopping pussy. your grip on the cold marble counter top has your knuckles turning white. at this point, you’re so desperate for more that your meeting his fingers half way.

with tears threatening to run down your chubby cheeks, you make pleas for more. “ren please, please gimme more. i’ll be good i promise!”

he feels so bad. you’ve never acted like this, even when the two of you were still forced to live separately on campus. the desperation in your voice is surprising him just as much as it’s surprising you.

because he knows you like it when he fucks you with his hair down, he pulls his hair from his already loosening bun and all but rips his sweats off. dick hitting his bare stomach with a heavy thud.

he takes his fingers out of you and rips those pretty pink panties off, he makes a mental note to buy you another pair.

he rubs himself between your sticky folds till his cock is shiny, hitting your clit a couple of times in the process, drawing more whines from you. all he can do is look down in awe. it’s amazing to him just how wet you get from just a couple of fingers, but who can blame u? his dick’s been throbbing for four days straight.

he finally anchors himself and spits, emitting a soft puh before he smiles. you’re such a mess underneath him and he can’t wait to make it even worse. he finally starts to push in, but your tight little cunny won’t let him in no matter how gentle he tries to be.

“lemme in baby… please lemme in” his voice is so strained it’s making u gush even more.

“i’m tryin!” you say with a pout, tears running down your face.

eren knows you’ve always been big on eye contact when the two of you fuck, it’s almost necessary… so, he hooks his fingers into the side of your mouth and forces your head to lift. finally you were able to see that tattooed chest and pretty face, and he was able to see those pretty eyes and beautiful tear stained face.

almost immediately do you loosen up and he accidentally on purpose pushes all the way in, causing the both of you to moan loudly.

“there you go baby, take it for me ya spoiled fuckin brat”. his hands have found purchase on the fatness of your hips, his grip so tight that you think he’ll bruise you. not that you’ve ever cared.

“fuckfuckfuck” is all you can say as you watch his facial expressions through the mirror. his hair is down and there’s tiny beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. he’s gone slack jawed while stroking you, a relaxed expression gracing his pretty face. no matter how many times he’s buried himself in your warm walls, he’s never gotten used to how good u feel. once his green eyes make contact with yours and that smirk graces his face, it makes u realize just how in control he is no matter how gentle he may look.

“squeezin’ me so tight baby.. u miss me that much?” he says with a breathless laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm. the both of you know that going this long without touch was both odd and frustrating. it caused the both of you to miss each other equally, hence why this could be categorized as some of the best sex you’ve ever had.

at this point, he knows you’re gonna cum soon, he can feel your walls pulsing and eren feels like his dick is gonna pop.

“g’nna cum rennie, g’nna make a mess on yo- ugh fuck!” your little hands balling into fists as he hits that spongey spot in you. you can hear just how hard he’s thrusting into you, each stroke sounding more sticky than the last. it’s making your eyes cross and toes curl.

your convinced he’s gonna kill you with that horse dick of his one day.

“let it out baby, i’ll clean it up the mess, wanna feel you cum on me.” even he’s getting whiny now, so it’s only a matter of time before you-

“-ohmygod eren!” you cum so hard that your body’s shaking and your knees are buckling. thankfully, eren’s always there to catch you.

despite chasing his own nut, he desperately wants to see you ride out your orgasm. he’s so desperate that he’s picking you up by your hips, forcing you to do small circles against his waist cause he knows it drives you crazy.

however, it doesn’t take long before he’s digging deep into you again, the force of his thrusts causing your head to bounce a little harder than intended.

“god i’m gonna cum so hard in this pretty pussy. i’m so fucking sorry i neglected you baby.. never again, god i’ll never do it again baby i promise. gonna fill you up okay? awe, you like the sound of that yeah? make you the prettiest mommy for me. promise i’ll take care of you forever. god i love you”. he’s rambling and his voice is getting rough. it’s only a matter of time before he cums.

after finding some strength, you finally look back and smile at him and that’s all it takes for eren to cum. his face screws up and his warm hands slide up your back to make you arch a little deeper. you wish you could run your fingers through his hair so badly, but you couldn’t ask for a better view of your beautiful boyfriend.

after a few moments of silence, eren finally comes down from his high with a big huff of air. gently, he spins you around so you face him. he moves your curls from out of your eyes and gives you a slow kiss on the lips, hands resting gently on your chubby, tear stained cheeks.

after a few moments of silence, he starts to speak, “i meant what i said. i’m sorry i left you alone for so long baby. i just gotta pass this test.” his eyes full of remorse.

“i know eren, i just wanted some attention… it’s really easy to miss you, even if we live together”. small smiles find both of your faces and eren finally pulls out to run the two of you a warm bath.

he strips you out of your tank top and carries you over to the tub, where he holds you tightly.

after some comfortable silence, you can’t help but look over your shoulder and ask the question that’s been plaguing your mind, “you really wanna get me pregnant?”

he looks towards the ceiling and let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “i mean, eventually yes. right now? fuck no”

the two of you fell into laughter while the smell of lavender filled your noses and achy bones were finally allowed to rest.

#eren #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager #eren smut #eren x chubby reader #eren x black reader smut #eren x y/n #damn….. i love writing for this man

3K notes · View notes

outofconcheol · 5 months

Text

Collision (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: football player!Minho x RA!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, college au, 18+ summary: The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you’d spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, some crude jokes, OC is a bad RA, Minho is very whipped, such poor communication, minor mention of weed, bad poetry, disciplinary action against students

word count: 14k

a/n: it's finally finished! this was the result of me spiraling after seeing this tiktok edit of Super Bowl Minho? also totally not because i was also an RA who lived next to a pack of frat boys in college (don't jump into fountains with boys kids). this also might be a good time to confess that i know nothing about football, so that's fun! i'm so sorry it was so slow coming out, i hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: brief, non-graphic smut scene, but also: kissing (so much kissing), dirty talk, marking, nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls)

The common room was oddly quiet. Normally, you’d hear people shuffling around and chattering in the halls, their laughter echoing off the dull grey tiles. But right now, silence. With the dingy wood and fluorescent lighting, it felt like a ghost town. It wouldn’t have bothered you on any ordinary day. Except today was your first meeting with the new residents of your dorm as their RA. And it was five minutes to eight and they were nowhere to be found.

You honestly couldn’t understand why anyone hadn’t shown up yet. The bulletin board had been decked out in the colours of your school football team, the Stray Kids, and you’d even promised snacks! In fact, a lot of the people you’d run into in the halls had been excited to come - or maybe they just felt pressured into it by your overeagerness. Now, looking at the different spreads of cookies and brownies you’d baked with the help of your roommate Felix, your heart sinks. Speaking of Felix, where was he?

You’d been looking forward to the start of the school year all summer, so excited to finally embrace this job and your new responsibilities. But even more than that, you were so excited to make a handful of new friends heading into your senior year. Your entire college career had been consumed by studying and getting involved in a million different clubs, and although you hung out with Felix, and a few others, you felt like you’d been lacking in the experiences that made college… well college. And what better way to get access to college experiences than to be left to look after a rowdy group of students?

You hear footsteps thudding down the hallway, and heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, Felix’s freckled face comes into view. You shoot him an angry glare, before softening when you realize he’s not alone. Three other boys walk in after him.

“____, this is Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. They’re down the hall from us.”

“Welcome you guys!” you set aside your anger, putting on your best smile for them. The three of them greet you happily, not even lasting five seconds before descending on the snacks, and you giggle at the way Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffs chocolate chip cookies into his mouth.

Soon enough, more people shuffle in, until the common room is filled to the brim with residents, and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t hate you after all. Before, long, everyone is settled in, and you waste no time, heart pattering as you launch into an explanation of the rules and expectations for the year.

As expected, a handful of people are nodding off, while others have their eyes glued to their phones. However, Seungmin, Jisung, and Jeongin are hanging off your every word attentively, smiling after every phrase, and despite it being corny, you can’t help but find them endearing. You’d have to make a mental note to visit their room later and get to know them.

While you continue on, not wanting to keep everyone too long, you notice a couple of guys sneak in the back, twenty minutes late, and immediately your smile drops. The blue jerseys tell you immediately that they’re the players from Stray Kids. A few heads turn when they walk in, and suddenly, there’s a hum in the air, the residents thrumming with excitement at the sighting of campus celebrities. Suddenly, all the attention is off you and on them.

Felix shoots you a look of apology, and you huff, watching the meeting go down in flames. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the crowd dies down, people spilling out one by one, until only the four players and Felix are left.

Putting on your fakest sweet smile, you stomp up to them, ready to give them a piece of your mind, when you bump into a solid chest, strong arms wrapping around you to steady you.

“Whoa there, you good?” A deep voice booms out, and you look up to see Chan, the captain of the team, looking down at you with a smirk.

“I—,” you begin, nostrils flaring in anger, but you’re interrupted once again by Chan.

“Sorry for crashing your little party, practice ran late, you know how it is.”

His eyes are alight with a glimmer as he says it, taking you in.

“I’d appreciate if next time, you could let me know, so I can plan ahead,” you grit out through your teeth, watching another one of the guys, one with arm muscles so huge he could probably rip a tree in half, descend on the cookies you’d laid out.

“That’s Changbin,” Chan chuckles. “And over there is Hyunjin.”

You look to the door, where another tall, lanky player is leaning against the frame, a look of casual disinterest on his face. He gives you a nod, and you scoff under your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“And this is Minho, our other roommate.”

You freeze on the last introduction, finally taking in the final figure in the room. He’s just as paralyzed as you are, unable to move, lips parted in shock. Feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel your throat tighten, unable to look up. The ground beneath you feels like it’s about to give way, and you’re suddenly aware that Felix is no longer in the room, mentally cursing him out in your head for leaving you alone right now.

“Hey,” Minho finally manages to get a word out, and your eyes snap up to his, watching the way he shoots an easy smile in your direction.

You hate the way your heart reacts to that smile because you’d promise yourself once already you’d never let it get to you again. All of a sudden, a distinct memory from the summer comes rushing back to you, one you’d tried so hard to bury in the back of your mind.

Twinkling fairy lights, red solo cups on the table out back, and Usher blasting from the speakers. The one house party you’d snuck out to that summer with your best friend, Ryujin. The one where you’d met him.

Those same lips had smirked at you from across the room, dark and serious eyes inviting you to come over and take a chance. And you had. Lips crashing onto his, Minho’s kisses swallowing your moans. The music from the party gradually fades as he leads you upstairs, the soft click of the door locking behind you before he pushes you onto the bed. The cute outfit you’d chosen to wear that night was discarded carelessly to the side, Minho’s hands tracing circles across your skin, his lips latching desperately onto your neck, sucking blooms across your skin. Minho is on his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, eyes completely blown with lust, looking like he wants to devour you. Watching the dim light hit the lean lines of his body as he strips, his soft groan when he pushes into you, digging your heels into his back.

Minho’s low voice when tells you how pretty you sound, how good you are for him before you’re exploding, falling apart at the seams.

And then, regret. Slipping out before dawn could come around, watching Minho snooze peacefully, unaware that he’d wake up to an empty bed, unaware that thoughts of that night with him would continue to haunt you the entire summer.

The boys’ boisterous laughter breaks you out of your daze, and you watch Chan and Changbin wave to you before grabbing a handful of snacks and slipping out the door. Hyunjin isn’t far behind, eyeing your shocked face with a curious expression.

Minho lingers for a moment, studying you with the same hypnotic gaze. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t been able to get a single word out, but his stoic face twists into a salacious grin. He trails after his roommates, but not before pausing and shooting you a wink.

“Well damn, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.”

Kim Namjoon was extremely good at his job – or so he thought. As the grad advisor for the resident assistant program at the university, he’d painstakingly read through hundreds of applications, combing through many impressive resumés in search of the best of the best. And he thought he’d found it in you. Which is why the situation he found himself in was completely and utterly baffling to him.

“It’s literally the first week of the school year, and you’re telling me you already want to quit?!”

You fidget in your seat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at Namjoon, knowing that if you caught his gaze, you’d be finished. Over.

“Are those pressed resin flowers?” you gesture over to the wall, hoping you can distract him.

“____.”

“W-well, it’s not exactly like that, it’s just…”

“I fail to understand what could be so horrible about your current group of residents that you’d give up free room and board,” Namjoon quips, before pausing. “I mean — great responsibility as well.”

You want to scream. How were you supposed to tell your boss that the reason you wanted to quit the job you’d worked so hard for is that, in one drunken night, you’d slept with one of your residents and now didn’t have the gall to face him for an entire year?

Your cheeks burn, thinking of Minho’s smirk, the one that had you screaming into your room. In the few days since the meeting, you’d managed to successfully avoid him, and his roommates, making a mad dash for your room straight after class. Oh well, you could always branch out and live your best college life next year. After the football players graduated.

Namjoon could put you anywhere, even banish you to the hell of a single room in that maybe-haunted residence hall on the edge of campus. The one where there was an alleged ghost wandering around? Yeah, you’d take it. Anywhere away from Lee Minho.

“I chose you for this job for a reason, ___, because I saw great potential in you,” Namjoon continues with a heavy sigh. “I’m confident that whatever you’re anxious about, it’ll resolve itself. Now, you should head out. From the schedule, I saw you have a room meeting scheduled.”

And with that, you’re ushered out of Namjoon’s cosy office, left with more questions than you started with. Huffing as you sling your bag over your shoulders, you make the trek across campus back to the dorm, trying to muster a weak smile for the meeting you had coming up.

Only for that smile to disappear completely when you check your calendar, seeing exactly who’d signed up for the slot.

Room 103. The football players’ room. Minho’s room. Could your luck be any worse?

Apparently, the answer to that was yes, because just as you lifted your fist to knock, the door opened, leaving you face-to-face with a smirking Minho.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he drawls, the smirk fading when he sees you look past him at the wall, shuffling your feet.

“Come in,” his voice softens, stepping aside to let you through. For a moment, he pauses behind you, and you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck.

“Listen, I just wanted to, uh–” he’s interrupted by a loud holler, one that wreaks havoc on your eardrums.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl-next-door!” Changbin comes into view, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulder, before the other man scowls, brushing him off.

“Guys,” Chan’s captain voice has their heads turning, “I know you’ve all got a boner for the pretty RA, but she’s here doing her job.”

You could have sworn you saw Minho go pale.

Changbin snickers, but abides, plopping onto the couch, dragging Minho with him. That made three of them. But where was…

“Hyunjin,” the tall boy appears out of nowhere, his sharp eyes taking in your presence. For a moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Minho, but you shove the ridiculous thought from your brain. They were just guys, and you were just doing business as usual. Nothing to worry about.

“So guys,” you manage to get out. “I’m just here to talk to you about your expectations for each other this year as roommates.”

“Expectations?” Changbin throws up an eyebrow. “Yeah, like some ground rules you want to establish for the room,” you clarify. “As roommates.”

“We’ve been living together for three years at this point,” Hyunjin gives you a pointed stare. “I’m sure we have it down.”

You chew mindlessly at your lower lip, realizing that you aren’t getting anywhere with them. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Minho draped over the side of the couch, one leg dangling off onto the floor.

“Well,” the sudden addition of his voice shocks you, a small smile lighting up his face when catches you looking at him, “We obviously need to follow bro code.”

“Bro code?” You raise an eyebrow. You knew what it was, but that didn’t make you any less confused.

There’s a sharp ow! followed by Hyunjin shuffling in the corner. Minho is gingerly nursing his arm, his eyes narrowing at his teammate.

“Pretty sure one of the rules of bro code is to never lie to your bros,” Hyunjin quips, casting a glance between you and Minho.

“Not lying! Okay! Okay, we can work with that —,” you straighten up, a grin on your face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Especially not about girls you’ve slept with,” Changbin adds with a smug expression.

Minho’s face immediately twists into a pained expression, and for a moment, everything is silent. You wonder if this is it, the moment where everything finally blows up in your face and the truth about what went over the summer is revealed.

“I’m so sorry, ____,” Chan gives you an apologetic look, standing up to usher you towards the door. “I’ll have a chat with them, and we’ll draw up a list of rules and send it your way by the end of the week!”

Everything happens so quickly, Chan’s hand on your back, the brief flash of Minho’s concerned eyes looking at you before the door closes, slamming shut.

The rain patters against the window, making the fluorescent lighting of the common look even more bleak and grey than usual. You let out a heavy sigh. The dorm meeting should have been enough of a sign to you that very few people would be interested in the events you held this year. Now, you were alone, surrounded by far too many tubs of ice cream, and Felix was in class.

Deciding to wallow in your sorrow, you pop open one of the tubs, scraping at the frozen top with a spoon, the sweet ice cream melting on your tongue.

“I told you, Jeongin, she just bought the ice cream to eat herself,” a voice at the door startles you, and you look over to see Seungmin beaming at you through the door. And he’s not alone. Jisung and Jeongin trail in after him, and your heart swells in relief at their presence.

“I thought no one would come.”

“And miss ice cream? Please, they’re either stupid or even more stupid for turning down free food,” Jisung chuckles, sliding up a few chairs next to you.

The three boys settle in, wasting no time digging into the ice cream, happily chatting about their days to you. Something about their presence makes the unbelievably rainy weather seem not so bad. You learn that Jisung and Seungmin are in the year below you, studying math together, and Jeongin, the poor freshman, was their random roommate.

“You guys are worse than the football players,” you chuckle when they explain their tactics of how they get Jeongin to run errands for them across campus.

“I think it’s cool how we have the players living here with us!” Jeongin’s eyes shine with excitement. “Do you think they’ll invite us to one of their parties?”

“We’re losers, Jeongin, in case you haven’t noticed,” Seungmin jokes, but his face is strained.

“That’s not true, you’re currently my favourite people in the dorm,” you respond, watching Seungmin relax, and Jisung’s cheeks flush. “And those parties are lame anyway.”

So lame. Lame enough for you to sleep with one of those aforementioned players.

You think back to the summer, memories flooding you. In your defense, you hadn’t even known Minho was a player. It was just a random party, full of random people neither you or Ryujin had known. And he’d been there, leaning against the wall, taking it all in quietly.

If you’d had any idea Lee Minho was one of those ever-loving frat boys on the football team, you might not have given him a second look. But then he’d smiled at you - a small one, soft but also teasing, and that was all it had taken for you to drift over, Ryujin smirking behind you.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks went down, the two of you managing to talk about nothing yet somehow also everything at once.

“You see,” Minho’s low voice rumbled in your ear, leaning in closer. You can smell the warm spice of his cologne, and it makes you even dizzier than the beer in your hand. “Those two definitely look like they’ve got some shit to sort through.”

“They’ll ignore it though,” you counter, watching Minho’s eyebrows raise. “Probably go upstairs and fuck instead.”

Minho’s jaw hangs open, and it takes a moment to process what you’d just said out loud – and how much of your own intrusive thoughts were contained within the simple statement. Looking over, his eyes have gone impossibly dark, their sole focus on you.

“Maybe we should follow them? Just to confirm.”

Those same dark eyes are now filled with a flicker, one that matches the flames building inside your chest.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door to the common room swinging open, bringing you face to face with a flustered and panting Minho. His hair is windswept, and there’s a deep flush on the back of his neck. Raindrops plop, plop, plop onto the carpet as they drip from his clothes.

“Did I miss it? I came as quick as I could after class.”

His voice is hoarse and gravelly like he’s struggling to catch his breath after running for too long.

“Miss what..?” You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance, completely missing the way Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin begin to shuffle behind you, whispering amongst themselves.

“You were hosting something? I tried to convince the other guys to come along.”

Your chest tightens at his admission. He paid attention to those egregiously long newsletters you spent hours making and mailing out to the floor? It makes you feel dizzy inside, a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering inside your chest.

“Uhm, yeah of course! Help yourself, you know I just remembered I have something like really, really important to take care of for one of my classes,” the words tumble out in a rush, your cheeks burning at lie, but you honestly weren’t expecting to come face to face with Minho so many times in a matter days.

“Hey Jisung, do you mind cleaning up after you guys are done? Please.” You shoot the other boy a desperate look, and his eyes go round, looking in between you and Minho, who remains at the threshold. He gives you a subtle nod, and you take it as your chance to escape, hastily slinging your bag over your shoulder.

You feel Minho’s eyes on you while you brush past him and out the door, wondering why you’re the one shivering when he’d been caught in the rain.

. . .

“Jisung, is it?” Minho sees the boy jump at the sound of his voice, his chair nearly toppling over from the shock. He looks in between a flustered Jisung, to the other two guys, who are equally surprised, their mouths hanging open.

It’s times like these where Minho remembers he’s not just any normal guy. Being a player for the Stray Kids came with its own headaches. He’d never gotten used to the stares. Or people becoming tongue-tied around him.

But you hadn’t been like that, he recalls. Talking to you had been easier than making a catch, the way your eyes lit up underneath the dim lights of the party and how your bubbly laugh remained burned in his memory for the entire summer.

Minho wants to laugh at the thought of him hung up over some girl he’d fucked one time, but nothing could have matched the cold feeling that washed over him the moment he’d woken up to find you gone, the bed empty. And he found himself actually missing it - not the sex, but everything else. The laughing, the people watching, the inside jokes.

Damn it, he was turning soft for you.

He stalks over to Jisung and his friends, plopping into the chair across of them. The three of them remain frozen in place, stiff as a board, and Minho lets out a loud groan.

“What do you want?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips when he sees the taller one cross his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want like, tickets to the game, fake IDs, weed? I can hook you up.”

“F-frat parties,” the younger one elbows him, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him we want in on the parties.”

“The bigger question is, what do you want? I mean, why are you even talking to us?” “Can’t a dude just be nice to other dudes?” Minho grins, but the tall one is unwavering. He looks over to the one whose name he actually knew, Jisung, and judging by the way his eyes are still wide as saucers, and the manga he’s clutching to his chest, Minho knows he’s found a target who’ll fold.

“Is that Spy x Family? I love that one.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah, I actually have all the volumes in my room? You could always come by if you wanted to borrow one.”

“I could?”

“Hmmm, only if I get to ask for your help with something.” “Anything!” the youngest one pipes up again, choking when the tall one hits him in the back. “We’ll do anything.”

And suddenly, Minho sees his in – these three dorks. Who despite knowing you for even less time than he has, have somehow managed to win over your heart. And he’d be next.

“Well, let’s start with introductions first of all…”

The 8am walk to your psychology class was one of your favourite parts of your schedule this semester. Campus was just waking up, birds were chirping, and you had time off to just think before getting swallowed by a sea of schoolwork and RA responsibilities. Except lately, your thoughts had been running wild - Minho in every corner, his tired, rain-soaked figure the other day making him look like a wet cat. A very cute wet cat.

You didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of what it meant for him to show up like that – you didn’t want it to mean anything at all. The simple fact was that guys like Minho, and the rest of his teammates, barely ever gave a damn about anything that wasn’t pratice or their loud ragers. But he’d actually made an effort.

Namjoon will be so happy I’m getting the team involved in dorm life, you stupidly rationalize the warm, fizzy feeling in your chest. I’ll have something to be proud of.

Trudging up the hill that takes you from the dorms to the heart of campus, you look through the cover of trees, the faint rays of sun peeking through them. In the crisp morning air, they look beautiful, and you sigh happily to yourself. You could romanticize this morning walk, even if your actual romantic life was in shambles.

You close your eyes for a bit, having committed the path to memory, and walk, walk, walk until suddenly — you’re colliding into a hard object, falling backwards through space. Before you can feel the impact of the ground, an arm is reaching out to steady you. A lean, muscular arm, filled with veins. Looking up through the sunlight, you see Minho’s face looking down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “Why were you walking with your eyes closed?”

“Crap, you weren’t supposed to see that,” you turn away in shame. Were you going to be doomed to a whole school year of embarrassing yourself in front of him?

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he holds up his phone, and you can’t help but laugh. A cat video is playing on the screen. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks for catching me.”

“It’s kind of what I do,” he chuckles, another reminder of who he is. And who you are.

“Oh yeah.”

You don’t remember when you started moving again, but somehow, he’s right alongside you, facing backwards yet still matching you stride for stride. Looking around, you breathe in relief when you spot no one else around – being seen with Minho would definitely have people talking, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now.

“Can we talk about what happened over the summer?”

Minho’s voice is tinged with something you can’t pinpoint, taking on a weird sort of lilt. Could he possibly be nervous? Then again, what reason would he have to be nervous? He wasn’t the one with an entire reputation on the line right now.

“There isn’t that much to say, Minho. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have known better.”

Minho narrows his eyes at your statement, clearly taken aback.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you feel guilty because we live on the same floor now. There’s no way you could have known! I’m not holding it against you. Let me make it up to you – maybe we can have another shot, hopefully more sober this time.”

In your head, you know he’s right, and that you’re being completely irrational. But wouldn’t starting something now also be irrational, and falling into that very same trap you’d worked so hard to avoid.

“Look Minho, I’m really grateful that you forgive me. I know it was an asshole move, just disappearing like that. But whatever this is, I can’t do it right now. I promise if we run into each other I’m not gonna sprint off in the other direction, but I can’t date you. I can’t date anyone right now.”

You watch the way his shoulders completely deflate, rustling his backpack over his shoulder. More and more students have begun to slip out of their dorms, joining you on the main campus quad, and you know the conversation is over. For now.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, watching Minho jump slightly at the sound of your voice. “Isn’t your econ class the other way?”

“Nah,” Minho stutters, and you watch his cheeks tinge red. “I dropped it. I’m taking a new one - fermentation sciences.”

“Fermentation sciences?”

“Yeah, you know in this economy, I wanted to learn how to brew my own alcohol,” he looks wistfully over at the science building. “I should probably get going.”

You watch him retreat wondering why you felt such a crushing wave of sadness when you’d been the one to shut it down in the first place.

. . .

Fuck! He was late. Minho knew he should have spent more time on cardio this summer, his heart pounding in his chest as he ran the other way across campus to the business building.

While part of him was relieved by your assurance that you harboured no bad feelings toward him after everything that him, another part of him was deeply unsettled. For some reason, he couldn’t let it end like this, the two of you just being people who resorted to acknowledging each other with a wave across campus.

The thought bothers Minho all through his econ class, and through football practice, Changbin’s obnoxious chuckle echoing in his ear.

“Fermentation Sciences? Really, dude?”

“Stop laughing, punk,” Minho grumbles. “It’s not like you could have come up with anything better.”

For all they knew, Minho was shamelessly flirting with the girl next door, and failing miserably. They didn’t know any of the history between you two - and Minho wanted to keep it that way, or else he’d never hear the end of it from his roommates.

Changbin grunts, his pass landing a little harder than usual. Minho makes the catch, the air wooshing out of his lungs.

“Lino,” Chan’s stern captain voice echoes from behind him. “It’s our final year. Are you really sure you won’t get distracted by this? It’s our final year.”

Minho sighs. He knew that this final season hinged on him having his head on straight - if not for his sake, for his teammates’. While he and Hyunjin had jobs waiting for them after graduation, Chan and Changbin were trying to make a career out of football.

“Yeah dude, it’s nothing I promise.”

Defeat sinks into his bones, realizing that maybe you were right. Perhaps there wasn’t time to be distracted by anything, or anyone this year. Yet, as he strips off his jersey and slumps onto the players’ bench, he mellows in the one part of your statement that had given him a fraction of hope.

You hadn’t said “never”, just “not right now.”

“Remind me why we’re here again?” Hyunjin groans, chewing the tip of his pen. In the corner, a group of students fall into hushed whispers at the sight of Stray Kids’ running back and tight end, hunched over pieces of paper.

“Stop acting like you didn’t take an entire class on 18th century poetry last year and help me figure out what rhymes with perfect,” Minho shoves the end of the pen into his arm.

“Imperfect,” Hyunjin counters. “What the hell are you doing anyway? I thought we were supposed to be colouring for stress relief.”

“None of your goddamn business, Hwang,” Minho shuffles his paper towards himself, scribbling down the word, only to cross it out ten seconds later.

“Are you, are you writing a poem?” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide at the various words scribbled on Minho’s sheet. Beautiful, delicate, exquisite, perfect. A faint smirk tugs at his lips.

Minho himself never thought he’d see the day where he put pen to paper in hopes of wooing someone, but it seems life had other plans. Because ever since you’d basically told him there was no chance of anything happening between you, it had made him unable to keep thoughts of you out of his mind.

He wondered sometimes if he was chasing his own ego, going after you just because you weren’t interested in him. But as he dwells on it more, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this determined to win someone over.

“I have questions, many of them,” Hyunjin starts. “But I’ll start with one? Is this about–”

He flicks his head towards the front of the room, where you’re hard at work on your own drawing. Your sweater looks beyond soft and cosy, bringing out the colour of your eyes, and Minho feels a weird pang inside his chest when he hears you giggle; Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin right next to you.

Those fucking punks. They were supposed to be helping him, and instead they were crowding around you? He’d probably have to cave and finally entice Jeongin with an exclusive invite to a frat party if he ever wanted things to work in his favour.

“God, I having to fucking text Changbin about this,” Hyunjin drawls, only to yelp when his phone is swiped out of his hands.

“Send that text and you’ll wish I never looked in your direction, Hwang.”

“My question is when?” Hyunjin looks between you and Minho, lines of confusion marring his face, until realization dawns on him.

“Holy fuck? She’s the one? From this summer? I knew it!”

Minho feels like sinking into his chair and rueing the day he ever ran into Hyunjin on the way to try-outs, but he musters a weak nod.

“___? RA ____?”

“Will you quit asking questions?” Minho continues to scribble, growing frustrated when his pen begins to run out of ink, the four pages of ideas he’d come up with staring him dead in the face.

“Well you’re never gonna win her over if you keep comparing her lips to cherry cough medicine.”

“What would you suggest dumbass?”

“Maybe fucking cherries instead?” Hyunjin grabs the paper from him, shaking his head in exasperation. “Next time you want to pull this shit for a girl, please come to me first.”

“Hoping there won’t be a next time,” Minho looks over at you with a heavy sigh, watching the way Seungmin leans in close to point out something on his page to you.

“Just you watch and wait,” Hyunjin grabs the pen from him, and gets to work.

. . .

“Let me know if you’ll think about it,” Seungmin waves to you from across the room, clearing out with Jisung and Jeongin in tow, and you happily go back to colouring the bunny you’d started. Funny enough, the stress of the last few weeks had melted away, you and Felix easing back into your routine of daily dinners together in the dining hall. Along with new friends - the three younger boys inviting you over to their dorm for movies and video games.

A cough interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Minho stop in front of your table, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Guilt fills your chest when you realize you hadn’t even said hi to him, despite knowing he’d come with Hyunjin in tow the moment the previously quiet room had erupted into a faint din.

“Hey,” you smile up at him, hoping it’ll put him (and you) at ease. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No problem, uh, thanks for hosting,” Minho scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the piece of paper crumpled into his other fist.

“Did you have fun?”

“Fun? Oh yeah! It was super fun! I felt really calm,” the words spill out of Minho’s mouth awkwardly, and he’s begun to bounce on the soles of his feet.

“Are you sure it was calming? You can give me honest feedback you know. I won’t be offended.”

“Oh yeah, you know, I actually just remembered I have to go, but I wrote something down on this paper and it’s for you!” Minho launches the piece of paper at your desk before scurrying out of the room. Craning your neck, you see him run to Hyunjin in the hall, who claps him on the back.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you unfurl the paper, eyes widening when you see the exact “feedback” Minho had left.

It takes everything within you not to laugh - the rhyme scheme is completely off, there are random flowery words that definitely look like they were pulled from the dictionary app, and the poem cuts off abruptly with a scribble. Yet somehow your heart is warm at the thought that Minho had sat there for an hour putting this together. For you.

Perhaps you’d underestimated Lee Minho after all.

“I wonder whose idea it was to load a bunch of college-age kids dressed in stiff-ass clothes onto a bus that’s going who knows where, and to not even have alcohol to compensate” you mutter, smoothing over the skirt of your dress, the chilly winter air sending goosebumps down our spine.

“Don’t let the feds hear you say that, miss RA, but to answer your question, probably some prick at Oxford or something,” Seungmin appears by your side, offering up his jacket. You politely decline, grateful that he offered but also that he doesn’t press. Accepting his jacket would be too much of a romantic gesture for… whatever this was.

“Just two friends hanging out,” Seungmin had reassured you when he’d asked you the other week… the same week you’d received the poem from Minho. The same one that has your heart doing backflips when you even think about it. The same one that’s currently smushed between the pages of your planner, bringing a smile to your face every time you open it.

You shake your head… trying to dispel thoughts of Minho from your mind. Seugmin was your date tonight. He deserved to have your attention. You deserved to not turn it into a miserable time for both of you because you couldn’t sort out anything in your life.

The bus ride helps take your mind off him, Seungmin happily chattering to you about how his year is going so far, and you stave off the chill all the way until the two of you get inside.

Unfortunately, that’s where it all goes downhill. Because the music is too loud, and there are too many bodies crowded on the floor, and you remember that going as dates involves, well actually acting like dates.

A few of Seungmin’s friends from the photography club find him in no time, suddenly swooping the two of you into the middle of the floor, and you’re led down a well-meaning, but incessant line of questioning. Seungmin shoots you an apologetic smile, happy to take the brunt of it for most of you, but it leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest nonetheless. Seungmin doesn’t say anything when you drift away quietly, leaving him with his buddies, and find yourself flitting at the fringe of the crowd. An eerie feeling crosses you, one that reminds you of the last time you were in this situation. Only this time the outcome wouldn’t be the same, because Minho wasn’t here.

Mere months ago, you would have been fawning over the experience of finally attending a formal with a date, feeling like you were coming closer and closer to making the memories you craved. But you realized now that those had been empty hopes. Because memories weren’t about the experiences, but the people you shared them with. And you couldn’t deny what you and Minho had shared.

You don’t even realize you’ve stumbled outside until you’re plopping down onto a bench, hugging your knees to your chest, while fresh tears coat your eyelashes. A soft pair of footsteps echo behind you, and you turn to see Seungmin next to you, taking a seat.

“Y-you should go back inside,” you stutter, even more guilt settling in. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole and ruining your night.”

“Hey, you’re not an asshole. And I meant what I said, I didn’t expect anything from you, just two friends hanging out. But now you’re crying.”

Silence falls between you, and you think about how lucky you are to have a friend like Suengmin. Him, and Felix, and Jisung, and Jeongin. How much they care for you.

“You know,” Seungmin interrupts. “He’s not a bad guy. Lee.”

You whip your head around at Seungmin, not expecting him, of all people, to bring up Minho at a time like this. How did he even know him?

“Oh shush,” Seungmin sees the perplexed look on your face. “He comes over sometimes to watch anime. He’s pretty cool. He even said Jeongin might have a shot at trying out for the team next year.”

“What is my life?” you groan out loud.

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re doing too much, trying to fight whatever it is you feel. Maybe he could be worth it. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I think what I need to do is catch the early bus back to campus,” you grumble, before softening. “You’ll be okay without me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t miss me too much,” Seungmin grins. “Just sleep on it.”

“In your dreams, Kim.”

You’re bounding off the bus faster than the driver can open the door, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket, or at least stealing Seungmin’s. The straps of the way-too-high heels you’d chosen dig into your feet, sure to blister and leave you groaning the next morning, but to be fair, the headache had started long before you’d left your dorm room tonight.

It had started the moment Lee Minho had strolled through the door at that very first meeting, and secured a permanent spot dwelling inside there. And now he was befriending everyone you were friends with? You shiver at the potential implications of what Seungmin had revealed at the formal, surprised to find feelings lingering other than sheer annoyance.

The wind nipping at your heels, you set off down the campus path, empty save for a few poor souls leaving the library after a study session, until you’re at the campus green, the large fountain that lights up the way to your dorm in plain sight. You feel relief overtake you at the sight, grateful that you could soon unwind and collapse onto your bed, given you had thinking to do. Lots of thinking.

You’re almost across, the gurgling of the fountain audible in the distance, when a shadow emerges from the path to your right. A lone, slim figure in a blue letterman jacket, a large “S” emblazoned on the front. You think nothing of it until you see the accompanying “25 Lee” on the back, and suddenly you freeze. Only he does too, at the exact same time.

You wonder if it’s too late to duck behind a bush, hiding under the cover of darkness, until you remember that near the fountain is the most well-lit area within a few hundred yards, the rest of the winding path completely blacked out. And Minho is already walking in your direction, even though you both know the way to the dorm is behind him.

He’s clad in sweatpants, his hair damp with sweat, and you wonder why he’s not freezing at this hour. But he’s probably looking at you and wondering the same thing.

“___, hey,” he shouts out, the grin onn his face growing when he actually looks at you, his jaw hanging open. “Wow, uh, you look good. Fancy event?”

“Oh yeah a date. I mean a formal. I mean I went to a formal. As a date. With Seungmin.”

Immediately, the grin fades, and Minho’s eyes grow impossibly dark. There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you’re overcome with the urge to clarify that it wasn’t a real date, that it didn’t mean anything, but nothing comes out, your throat impossibly dry.

“Oh yeah, he mentioned something about that.”

“Yeah. I guess even RAs need to let loose once in a bit.”

“Did you? Let loose?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know that he knows that it’s too early to be wandering around campus, given most buses don’t come back until after midnight.

“You caught me.”

“I told you, I’m good at that.”

Minho gestures to a bench, right in front of the fountain. You know you should say no, that you should run to the safety of your dorm. Because somehow, when you’re around Minho, the control you have comes crashing down. You feel reckless and effervescent, and you wonder if being drunk when you met him was to blame.

When you take the seat next to him, you watch him smirk, and that’s when you realize the bench he’d picked out was the tiniest one, meaning you had no choice but to be pressed up right against him, feeling the warmth that emanates from him. You shiver again, hoping the cold can cover for you.

“You cold?” Minho’s voice is a low rumble, moving to slip his jacket off his shoulders

“No, no I’m fine—”

He’s throwing it around your shoulders before you can finish protesting, his warm sandalwood and cedar fragrance enveloping you, and you burrow into it. Beside you, you can feel Minho’s faint breath fan against your neck, and you flush, turning away to look above you.

“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” You point above you. “You can see the stars.”

“Yeah, it is,” Minho’s voice is a heavy sigh, and you turn to find he’s not looking above at all. His dark eyes bore right into yours, a whole universe of emotion trapped within their depths, and you feel the fluttering in your chest begin again.

His warm hand skims softly against your cheek, and you stop it with your own, pulling him away.

“Minho… what’s happening? What is this? Because if this is some kind of ego trip, or some sick joke with your teammates…”

“Can’t you see, damn it?” Minho’s expression turns dark, shadows dancing on his face. “I like you, ___. Ever since you walked out of that room this summer, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I keep running it over and over in my head, wondering what I could have done to fuck this up so badly, and how I can make it up to you every day.”

His voice is full of desperation, and you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer emotion captured in his rasp.

“Why?” Your voice is barely audible. “Why me?”

“I know we barely know each other, but everything I see about you, I like. The way you laugh, the quirky sweaters you wear, the way you take care of others. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.”

Your head spins at his confession, at his earnestness, but while your heart is screaming at you to give in, your head can’t take the leap, holding you back from tumbling over the edge.

“Minho, I can’t. My job—” you watch the way his shoulders sag, knowing that you’re right. “I don’t want you to keep waiting for something that I may never be able to give you.”

“Friends then?” He squares his shoulders, his voice shaky, and you turn away, not wanting him to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“Okay,” your voice is just as wobbly. Maybe it was better this way, knowing the distance would inevitably form when it was Minho’s turn to graduate next semester. This way things wouldn’t end badly - they’d just end when it was time.

“Well,” Minho stands up, offering you an arm. “As your friend, I can’t let you end what was supposed to be a fun night on a shitty note.”

He grabs your arms, slipping them into the jacket, before his hand is slipping in yours, the two of you walking up to the fountain. You know friends don’t hold hands, but you say nothing, the two of you staring at the clear water, coins glinting in its depths.

“Make a wish,” he whispers. You look up, just in time to see a star shoot across the night sky, and close your eyes, wishing for everything to work itself out.

“And now we jump.”

“We what?!—” you whip your head around, but it’s too late, Minho is pulling you into the fountain with him, the cold water chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you stand up, cheeks burning and your soaked dress clinging to your body, watching Minho shake his wet hair from his eyes.

“You. Are. Crazy,” you huff out, laughter bubbling in your throat, and his eyes are twinkling, before he joins in, the two of you laughing until you’re wheezing.

“You like it though,” he steps closer, his eyes raking over your body, heavy-lidded with desire. He leans over, almost in slow motion, your heart beating so wildly you almost forget how to breathe. You feel his lips ghost against yours, and for a moment everything is impossibly still—until laughter breaks through the silence, the voices of other students chattering behind you.

Minho is pulling away, his eyes flickering towards the voices, and you hadn’t realized you were clutching his wet shirt. You peel your soaked bodies away from one another, Minho offering you his hand to help you out of the fountain, when all of a sudden the voices soften, indicating that the students were heading in the other direction.

The walk back to the dorms is full of silence, both you and Minho trying to wrap your heads around what had happened in the fountain. It isn’t until he walks you to your door, the tormented look in his dark eyes the last thing you see before it closes behind you, that you realize you’d forgotten to give him back his jacket.

“Morning Lino,” Hyunjin pads out of his and Minho’s shared room, rubbing at his eyes. Minho grunts in response, turning his attention back to the eggs at the stove.

“You know some kid named Yang?” Hyunjin asks through a mouthful of cereal. “Came up to me the other day and said he couldn’t wait to sit in on our practice.”

Minho recalls his conversation with the eager freshman, who was bouncing up and down at the thought of being considered for the football team next year. Of course, what Jeongin didn’t know was that his happiness wasn’t even the cherry on top. It was seeing the dazzling smile on your face when the kid ran up to you to tell you all about it.

You’d looked over, seeing Minho lingering at the end of the hallway, and raised an eyebrow, to which he’d nodded, before promptly disappearing. This whole friendship thing was harder than he’d counted on. But he’d try his damn best.

…

An hour later, he’s watching Jeongin run lines with Changbin, pausing every few minutes to work on some throws. A small smile forms on his face - Jeongin was a nice kid. And he would have never met him if it wasn’t for you. Minho thinks back to how different life would have been if he hadn’t run into you this summer.

Even though he can’t put his finger on it, Minho feels like something’s changed. Before you, he’d never cared enough about anything to want to make an effort. Football was just something he did, relationships were something he never bothered with. Class was just class. But after meeting you, Minho wanted to be someone who was enough. Someone you could be proud of — to call a friend and maybe something more one day.

He feels the bench thud next to him, Hyunjin plopping down beside him. Hyunjin looks back and forth between him and Jeongin, realization glimmering in his eyes.

“He’s friends with her, right? Jeongin. That’s why you gave him a chance. You’re so fucking whipped.”

“If you’re gonna try to lecture me right now, please don’t,” Minho grumbles, knowing that behind Hyunjin’s sarcasm, he’s always willing to chew someone out when they’re doing something stupid. Like Minho is doing right now with you.

“That’s Chan’s job, not mine. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s weird,” Minho blurts out, his own words surprising him. He thought he would have dropped the subject.

But he finds himself opening up about you, the way he doesn’t know why, but you just make him feel, and how he doesn’t know what to do about it. The way you hold yourself back, and he doesn’t know how to move forward, because he’d be an asshole for overstepping the boundaries you’ve so abundantly made clear. How something with you was better than nothing at all.

And Hyunjin listens, gratefully, but Minho sees how his eyes dart over to Chan and Changbin and Jeongin. The season was still young. If he wasn’t careful, things could implode, not just for the team, but for you.

He would have to find a way to figure this out. Or else, he could lose you for good.

You hadn’t meant for it all to come spilling out. One minute, you and Minho were cool, agreeing to be friends. The next, his mouth was nearly on yours, and you were confused.

And now, you’re telling everything to Felix in the middle of breakfast. It might be the lack of coffee, or the fact that he’s just naturally baby-faced but Felix is wide-eyed, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open as you recall everything, from summer to now.

When you’re finished, he crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing and your stomach drops. Well. You’d managed to make your roommate, also known as one of the nicest people in the world, upset with you.

“Listen, Lix, it’s not as bad as it seems,” you try to reassure him. “We’re cool now.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Felix whines. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

You feel guilty. You knew Felix was one of the first people who should have known. But honestly, you’d just bottled it up. Even Ryujin didn’t know much beyond you disappearing upstairs with Minho. You feared that the more you talked about it, the more real it would seem. Whatever it was, this thing that you and Minho had.

“I never asked to hook up with a football player Felix,” you groan, taking care to keep your voice down. “I never asked for him to be my neighbour, let alone my actual responsibility. But that’s just what it comes down to. Responsibility. I have a job to do, and being involved with Minho goes against everything that it stands for.”

“___, you’re human too,” Felix offers you the cookie from his plate, and you accept it, chomping down. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

“I just thought this year would be different. I thought I’d have everything figured out, and that whatever I experienced would be fun. But now I’m just stuck with this. A mess.”

Felix’s jaw tenses, like he’s lost deep in thought.

“Do you regret it?” Panic lights your eyes at his question. Because it was one you’d never considered. You’d spent so long trying to push Minho away, creating false distance in between you two, when the reality was, it’d never existed in the first place.

All you wanted was to be closer to him. You wanted to learn the same things about him that he wanted to learn about you. You wanted to know what it actually would feel like if he kissed you in front of the fountain.

“No” you manage to breathe out with a sigh. “I don’t. But it still doesn’t change anything.”

“It could,” Felix counters.

Head spinning, you find your appetite has disappeared. You watch Felix look at you with concern as you bid him a half-hearted bye, telling him you’ll see him later.

Maybe you couldn’t lie to yourself about Minho anymore. But you couldn’t do anything about the truth except live with it.

You thought Namjoon believed in you enough to not stick you on RA duty during your birthday, but apparently not. So, you’d guiltily waved goodbye to Felix, telling him to go celebrate in your honour, and you’re curled up on the couch, notebook in hand, trying to review your reading for the week.

A few hours pass, in which you change the way you’re sitting numerous times, get up to take a water break at least every seven minutes, and are finally situated and focused enough to accomplish, but then the thumping starts.

At first you’re confused. Was someone working out? Did someone set up a bowling alley? Both of those explanations seemed more plausible until you actually listened for the source of the noise. It was coming from right next to you.

Room 103.

You groan. Of course they’d be having a party. The semester was new, and what else did football players do on a Saturday night?

Unfortunately, that also meant it was on you to stop it. And deal with the aftermath of ruining the night of a bunch of salty students. You breathe a heavy sigh, running through countless scenarios in your head to avoid going over. You could just keep studying, maybe bake a batch of brownies. But each one of those scenarios is ruined by none other than Kim Namjoon. His voice drones on in the back of your mind, waxing poetic about how with great power comes great responsibility. The man needed to stop rewatching so many Spider-Man movies.

Throwing your notebook to the side, you throw on a cardigan, shuffling over to Minho’s apartment. The cacophonous bass reverberates even from outside, and you give a timid knock, unsure if anyone will be able to hear you.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door swings open, the gleeful eyes of Seo Changbin taking in your presence at the door.

“I, uhm, I’m here to uh,” you barely get a sentence out before you’re being swept inside, Changbin’s bellowing laugh echoing behind you. “Look who joined us!” Changbin shouts, and a few heads turn to look in your direction. You catch a couple of questioning looks, one of the being Hyunjin, but for the most part, your presence is ignored.

“Any chance we can get you up on one of the tables?” Changbin offers you a drink, gesturing to the living room. You shake your head, backing up against wall of the entryway.

“Listen, I can’t stay, I just came to –”

“___? What are you doing here?” A voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Minho looking at you, shock on his face.

You gulp. You’d hoped you wouldn’t have to run into him tonight, that it would be a quick in and out. Once the party was shut down, everyone would go home in a sour mood, maybe Minho would hate you for it, and you’d be able to get over your feelings for him in peace.

“Leave her alone, Bin,” Minho chastises his roommate, who’s still trying to goad you for a drink. And then he grabs you by the hand, pulling you further into the lion's den.

The first thing you notice is the sheer heat. Not only are there dozens of bodies crowded up against each other, but it’s Minho himself. He maneuvers you through the crowd, keeping you close to him, and it makes you dizzy. Through the stench of beer and sweat, his cologne peeks through, spiking your body temperature even more.

You don’t know where Minho is leading you, but eventually you two end up near the end of the hallway, bypassing many loud conversations and couples making out, until you stumble upon a series of closed doors. Your face burns when you realize it’s their rooms.

“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning on your heel. “I shouldn’t even be here, this shouldn’t be happening.”

“Hey,” Minho rests a hand on your shoulder. “I just wanted to bring you somewhere quieter, where you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, heart soaring at the touching gesture. “Still, I should…”

“Can’t you stay for a bit?” Minho begs, his sparkling eyes meeting yours, and you’re unable to do anything but nod yes.

“Lee! How you doing man?” a voice bellows from far away, and you notice Mingyu, one of the forwards on the soccer team, walk up and high-five Minho, slapping him on the back. “Who’s your friend?”

Mingyu’s eyes do a once over, eyebrows furrowing at your sweatpants and cardigan, before looking quizically at Minho.

Minho draws a hand around your waist, coming to rest protectively on your hip. His palm burns through the thin fabric where your tank top ends, keeping you tight to his body.

“This is ___. If you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, smirking as he disappears in the crowd. That’s when you notice Minho’s leaning back against one of the door frames, his hand resting on the door knob.

“Wanna talk in my room?” he asks softly. And it doesn’t sound sleazy or gross. It sounds earnest. Despite the party raging around him, he hasn’t left your side since you showed up, as if he could feel the anxiety coursing through you. As if he’s telling you he’s got you.

“Or I could walk back with you to your room. Whatever you want.”

“W-we can talk,” you say nervously, fisting the side of your cardigan. Somehow, the idea of returning to your notebook seems wholly unappealing. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” he opens the door, leading you in.

. . .

The first thing you notice about the room is that it’s surprisingly clean. For a guy’s room anyway. There are a few stray articles of clothing strewn on the chair, but there’s also a neat stack of books, and a bunch of photo frames on Minho’s desk. One in particular catches your eye.

You pick it up, a smile breaking out onto your face at the photo of Minho, star running back, crouched up to three tiny cats.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho’s voice echoes behind you. “I adopted them when I was in middle school.”

“I didn’t take you for a cat person,” you giggle.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Minho takes the frame from you, setting it back in place. His voice sounds distant, like he’s thinking too hard.

“Tell me about yourself,” you blurt out without thinking, watching Minho’s eyes widen in surprise. You realize that you barely knew anything about him, while he’d worked so hard to know you, and his words from the night of the formal echoed in your brain.

Everything I see about you, I like. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.

You learn that Minho lives twenty minutes away, something you hadn’t expected. And that he goes home to visit his parents every other weekend, checking up on his cats. You learn football is just something he plays for fun – he’s not super serious about it like Chan or Changbin, but he stayed on the team because they’re his friends. You learn he likes fishing, but also pulling pranks on people. He’d nearly convinced Jisung that they cancelled Spy x Family the other week, and the poor boy had believed him before Minho had to chase him down with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels from the campus cafe and apologize. You learn that Lee Minho is so much more than you ever thought he could be, and that you feel more for him than you could have ever imagined, the realization giving you goosebumps.

“Hey,” Minho pokes you in the ribs. “You zoned out. Everything okay?”

No, everything was not okay. You wondered if he noticed how you’ve gone completely still next to him, your breathing shallow. Minho’s eyes have darkened, filled with an emotion you can’t possibly name, but something you want to believe in. And for once, you want to lose control, and fall off the edge together.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, heavy gaze dropping to his lips. Minho freezes, but doesn’t back away.

“Fuck,” he huffs, heavy breaths filling the space between you. “You sure?”

“Please,” you groan, closing the distance so your lips ghost over his. Minho finally snaps, bringing his mouth to yours, groaning against your lips. You bite back a moan as he nips your bottom lip. The sound stirs him, and with a hard squeeze to your thigh, he’s backing you onto the bed below him. Heart pounding, the look in his eyes is dangerous, sending chills down your spine.

“Let me make you feel good,” he breathes against your forehead.

You’re unable to do anything but whine in response, watching as he pushes your tank top up to undo the ties on your sweatpants, fingers digging into your hips while he pulls the fabric down, taking your underwear with it. His mouth peppers rough kisses down your throat and into your cleavage, leaving splotches of crimson and violet as he grazes his teeth in every spot his lips meet.

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, eyes searching yours.

“Yes,” you groan, head swimming. “I want this, want to feel you, please-”

Your pleas are cut off swiftly as he slips two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls with a low sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

“Only for you,” you whine, completely lost to what is coming out of your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck, been thinking about this for so long,” Minho hisses when you gush around him, arousal dripping down his wrist.

You feel yourself flutter at his words, throwing your head back while reaching over to swipe your fingers through his sweaty hair. You tug at the back of his shirt, and he pulls it over his head, his shaking hands slipping the cardigan off your shoulders and tugging the straps of your tank top.

Looming over you, he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, and you gasp sharply when he bites down with his teeth, swirling his tongue over it quickly to soothe your reddened skin. But Minho doesn’t stop there, his lips trailing all over you, unable to stop kissing you.

It’s a thousand times stronger, more intimate than the time from the summer, the feelings that have built between you mounting and mounting until they’re an inferno.

The first press of his tongue against your folds has you squirming as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. Your knees buckle around him as he works you with his tongue, fingers dipping lower and lower until they press right against where you need him most. Feeling a harsh suck to your clit, you moan loud enough that you’re sure that anyone who’s outside can hear you. But you don’t care, reveling in what it means to let him in.

Just as you’re about to let go and surrender yourself completely, Minho’s fingers retreat, leaving you clenching around nothing. You open your lips, ready to protest, but Minho cuts you off, stuffing his fingers inside your mouth.

“Suck,” he commands, and you’re left breathless, unable to do anything but comply while wetting the digits, tasting yourself.

“Need to see you come while I’m inside you,” Minho slips off the rest of his clothes. You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes, before pushing his cock completely inside, leaving you reeling at the stretch.

“Please, move,” you beg, and he obliges. Fucking you slowly like he never wants to forget this moment. His strong arm slips around your waist, lifting you up against his chest and his lips find yours again, tongue licking into you to steal the moans that escape you, head dizzying at the change in position.

“Minho, fuck, I’m going to come, please wanna so bad,” you whine, feeling lightheaded with ecstasy. Reaching down, Minho rubs tight circles on your clit, messy slick coating his fingers until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him.

“Cum for me ____,” he breathes against your neck.

That’s what does it, pushing you overboard, wetness gushing from you as you moan his name. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.

His sweat soaked bangs are messy, covering his eyes, and his fingertips skim across your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay with me?” he blurts out, head ducking in embarrassment at the silly statement. “I mean, not like that, just..”

And you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer to you, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, soft breath fanning his damp skin.

Dawn spills into Minho’s room, and you sigh, careful not to wake a snoring Minho. He’d fallen asleep quickly, but you’d been unable to do the same, tossing and turning beside him. What scared you was how much regret you didn’t feel over what had just transpired. How much you wished you could just give in and let it happen again.

But you couldn’t. Not only had you completely broken the pact to be just friends with Minho, but you’d also completely forgotten about the entire reason you’d even come here last night, the forgotten responsibilities of your job weighing heavily on you.

Rising, you carefully pick up your clothes, throwing them on quickly. You feel Minho stir softly, before he’s stretching, rubbing at his eyes.

“Morning,” his voice is low and raspy, but also completely content. A sharp contrast to the torment you currently feel. “Wanna grab breakfast?”

“Minho,” your voice is bleak, and you watch his figure slump. He’d fucked up. You both had.

“Last night should have never happened. And I know that if we keep doing this, spending time with each other, it’ll happen again. But I can’t. I have a job, I have responsibilities, and they’re important to me.”

You know the words cut deep, because you also know you’d give them all up in a second to wake up to him again, to feel his lips on yours.

Minho’s expression is blank, watching you scurry around the room to pick up your stuff. You knew the moment you walked out of there, there’d be no going back, even to being friends.

It breaks your heart even more when he doesn’t move to get up and help you, watching you instead with devastated eyes.

But you also knew you couldn’t turn around and look back at him, because you’d drop everything and stay.

. . .

The sun is too bright, hurting your eyes as you walk to the dining hall, what feels like chalk settling in the back of your throat. You feel like you’re battling the worst hangover of your life, despite not having a single drink last night, and you were so grateful Felix was still asleep when you’d slipped inside.

You’d let everything slip out of control, and now your life was spiralling. For a brief moment, you wondered if you should just accept the guilt for everything, leaving Minho behind and handing in your resignation. But then you realized how stupid that sounded, leaving you with nothing.

You swing the heavy door to the dining hall open, not even noticing the figure on the other side until you’re falling backwards. You catch the door just in time, looking up to be met with the tall figure of Kim Namjoon. And he doesn’t look happy.

“___, my office, now.”

. . .

Namjoon rubs in between his eyebrows, his expression darting in between you and the door. Your heart is pounding, fear taking over, even though you already know that whatever is happening cannot be good.

“____, when I chose you for this position at the beginning of the year, it was because I saw so much potential in you,” he begins, his voice trembling. “I thought you’d never do anything to upset me, to disappoint me.”

The word disappoint tells you everything you need to know, and tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Of course there would have been wandering eyes at the party last night. Of course someone would have recognized you, seen what you were doing, and said something to Namjoon. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid.

“Getting involved with a resident is a blatant violation of the responsibilities that have been entrusted to you as a resident assistant. Furthermore, you failed to act and de-escalate a situation that was a clear violation of the student code of conduct.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you cry out, hoping Namjoon will rethink everything. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

You watch his eyes flash with hurt at your pleading, but you know from the despondency in his expression there’s nothing you can do.

“I’m sorry, ____ but I have to report this to the advisory board. They’ll deliberate, but as of right now, you’re suspended, and it’s very likely you won’t be invited back next year. Karina will fill in for you in the meantime.”

He stands up, before leading you out gently. “I wish there was more I could do.”

You’re unable to say a word, slipping your coat over your shoulders and ducking your head to try to hide the tears that won’t stop flowing. You wonder if you should try harder, plead your case, but you know that the fault was entirely yours.

Looking up, you see Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin walk into the dining hall, laughing to each other, and duck behind a corner, your appetite completely gone. Taking off, you run as fast as you can, not stopping until your feet lead you back to the dorms.

Campus in the springtime is a sea of pink - the light, delicate hue of cherry blossoms creating a canopy on the ground, filling up the pathway to the fountain. But their beauty is lost on Minho, who sits by the fountain, staring blankly at the gurgling water.

Two months. It’d been two months since you’d ended things, rushing out of his room. Two months since you’d chosen responsibility over him. Minho wanted to be angry, wanted to hate you. But he just felt empty instead.

He’d tried talking to everyone – Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin had no idea what happened to you. Felix would only glare at him in anger from across campus, and he wonders if he’d broken your heart just as bad as you’d broken his. As if somehow that would make him feel better, knowing you were in just as much pain as him. But it didn’t.

His own teammates saw how everything ached for Minho, from him burning his breakfast to failing to catch the simplest of throws. And they were worried. But Minho couldn’t fix this – he couldn’t go back to how the two of you had been before. Because in reality, there’d never been a chance for the two of you to begin with. He realized it now. You were just too different.

And yet it hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with you. He’d finally figured it out, when it was far too late. He was in love with you – the way you made him feel alive, like the world was full of possibilities. Only for it all to come crashing down.

“Hey dude,” Chan’s soft voice comes from next to him, taking a seat on the bench. “You okay?”

“Hanging in there, old man,” Minho musters a weak smile, but it falters, and Chan immediately notices. Minho looks at his friend, who can’t stop looking around at who’s passing by, and he realizes he’s keeping a secret.

“Spill,” Minho commands, and Chan furiously nods no.

“Lino, we have our last game soon, you need to stay focused…”

“Say it,” Minho hisses through his teeth, because he knows that whatever Chan is hiding it’s about you.

The words come spilling out before Chan can stop them, and Minho takes them all in, everything suddenly becoming clear.

. . .

The roar of the buzzer echoes in Minho’s ear, along with the deafening sound of the crowd, and suddenly he’s being dogpiled by his teammates. Hyunjin and Changbin are screaming in his ear, the school fight song is blaring, but time slows for Minho, and he focuses on none of it.

Everything moves too quickly, the fans rushing from the stands, spilling out onto the field and campus beyond. Minho is being pushed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, until the locker room appears behind him. He’s stripping off his jersey, hitting the showers while his teammates erupt into joy around him. Minho lets the water drip off him, bracing himself against the wall, heavy breaths escaping him.

The win didn’t feel like a win at all. Not with the guilt that resided in his chest ever since he’d spoken to Chan a week ago. Minho knew the celebrations would go all night, the liquor would keep flowing, that all bets were off and every rule could be broken. But he didn’t care about any of that.

All he knew was that tonight, while campus erupted into a riotous celebration, he needed to find you.

He ignores Hyunjin’s protests while he slips out of the locker room, Chan holding his other teammates back. Minho throws a hoodie on, and steps out into the night air.

The first thing he notices is the swarm – there are people everywhere, screams echoing in his ears. Then it’s the pandemonium - banners strewn on the ground, the blare of an air horn in the distance, the blaze of what he’s pretty sure is a firework.

People line up around him as he moves through the crowd, pushing his way through overzealous fans, and overeager sorority girls offering him a victory kiss. He throws his hood up, ducking his face so that no one else can catch him, setting off to the emptier part of campus.

Eventually, the crowd dies down as he draws closer to the dorms, everyone out celebrating on the main green. Minho walks down the path he’s become so familiar with this year, the familiar sound of the fountain welcoming him.

He knew he’d find you here. Your eyes are turned away from him as you sit on the edge, aimlessly dragging your hand through the water.

“Not gonna celebrate?” He watches you jump at the sound of his voice, quickly rising up.

“Congrats, I’m sure it was a great game,” you whisper, but you’re backing away, and Minho can’t let you leave.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Minho interrupts you, resting his arm on yours, and he watches your eyes meet his, so much pain contained within them when you realize he knows.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” you counter, looking down at the fountain.

“That’s such crap, they let you go for that?”

“They let me go because I broke the rules, Minho. I deserved it.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh, watching you shiver in the cold, and he slips off his hoodie. You dodge it, the two of awkwardly dancing around each other, before accepting it, sinking into the feeling of Minho’s warmth.

“You’ve gotta stop letting me steal your jackets, I’ve already got a rap sheet,” you joke, but Minho doesn’t smile.

“I’m so fucking sorry, ___.” He says looking out onto the campus. “We really fucked things up, didn’t we?”

“Maybe this is how it was supposed to be,” you tell him. “You know, I was reading up on things, and I learned that sometimes, stars collide, and then they just collapse into dust. Like nothing else happens – they’re together one moment, and then the next, remnants of the collision float through the universe.”

Minho watches your breath come out in heavy puffs, and mind wanders back to the stars on the night he’d almost kissed you in the fountain.

“Can I have one more memory then?” He asks, intertwining his fingertips with yours, pulling you close to him, watching you nod before closing the distance in between you two.

Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Minho’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.

Eventually, the sound of the crowd draws closer, and Minho watches you pull away, holding out his hoodie in his hands. Taking it, he watches you retreat, wondering if there’d ever be a time where the universe would let you find each other again to pick up the pieces.

Sighing, you tape up the last box, pushing it to the side before collapsing on the couch. The end of the semester had come quickly after the raucous football celebrations, everyone in campus on a high.

Surprisingly, you’d dealt with the pain pretty well, settling into a new routine after being let go. Felix had been your biggest support, allowing you to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted, baking plenty of brownies to keep you from descending into too deep of a depression.

Eventually, you’d learned to just let the wound scar over. The night of the game with Minho had provided you with closure in the best way possible, confirming to you that life had had its own plan for you all along. Thought, from time to time, you mind still lingered on the kiss the two of you had shared – for a moment, you’d thought that it could have meant something, but maybe that was your lesson – learning to take things as they were, because the more expectations you’d had, the more things fell apart.

A gentle knock interrupts your train of thought, and you walk over to the door, opening it up to find none other than Namjoon on the other side. Confused, you let him in, silence falling in between you while you wait for him to speak.

“____, I’m so sorry, MInho told me everything,” Namjoon blurts out, and his words have you reeling. What did he mean?

“He told me how he was the one to overstep the boundaries of your job and how you tried to stop it, I knew I shouldn’t have doubted you. The board says you can stay on for next year!”

You remain frozen in place, unable to speak or even think, before the overwhelming urge to find Minho comes over you.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but I need to go right now.”

And then you rush out the door.

. . .

The door to room 103 is propped open with a six-pack, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you barge in, Hyunjin’s surprised figure greeting you right behind the door.

“_____? What the hell?”

“No time to talk, Hwang,” you push past him. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

Hyunjin pauses, before nodding his head towards Minho’s room, the subtle smirk never leaving his face as he watches you bound towards the door.

“LEE MINHO!” your shrill voice causes Minho to drop the book he was packing on his foot, and you smile as you watch him jump around, swearing under his breath.

“____? What are you doing here…”

“How dare you!” Minho groans when you punch him in the arm. “I cannot believe you did that.”

“Damn it, I swore that Namjoon man to secrecy,” Minho chuckles, a whoosh of air leaving him when you suddenly throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck. “You. Are. Crazy,” you whisper into his hair, feeling him smile against you while he pulls you closer, rubbing his hands on your back.

“You like it though,” he smirks.

“I love it,” you correct him, watching his grin go from tentative to ear-splitting. “Namjoon said you were suspended from the team though. I’m confused, isn’t this your last semester?”

“Well,” Minho blushes. “I may have to stay an extra one. Just to sort everything out, you know.”

“Jeongin will be so thrilled to have you on the team with him,” you giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“And you?”

“I’m gonna need a re-do of that love poem you wrote me. Byron would be rolling over in his grave.”

“I don’t know who the hell that is.”

“Good thing you have time to learn then.”

“So,” Minho grabs your hand nervously. “My parents brought Soonie, Doongi and Dori with them. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to introduce them to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” you ask him.

“Oh I’m sorry would you prefer twin planet? Or shining star?”

“Watch it Lee.”

Minho wastes no time dragging you out the door with him, Hyunjin waving the two of you off. Stepping out into the sunshine, you see two figures in the distance waving to Minho, and you smile, the collision that had once steered you off course finally leading you and Minho back on the path where you both belonged. With each other.

a/n pt. 2: they are so getting married btw! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @mal-lunar-28

423 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 6 months

Text

just wanna (get with you).

okkkk i promise i am not neglecting promise (i am) but i just had to get this out before the thought left my mind. this is just to say nancy wheeler i love you and i’m sorry

18+. smut. steve is an adulterer. but it’s okieee bc it’s hot <3

this is very much richboy!steve, he is very cocky and brash and very much not afraid of it

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

you had prepared to spend thanksgiving break alone in your room, honestly quite happy not to have to go home and deal with your car crash of a family.

that was until stacy had caught wind of your lonely plans and interjected, offering you an invite to her family’s massive home. now, it’d be rude not to accept, right?

you totally weren’t influenced by the fact that her older brother would definitely be there, not at all.

the drive up was a long slog, hours until you ended up in the middle of buttfuck indiana. it’s not somewhere you ever envisioned yourself spending the holidays but she had ensured that it was nice enough. her parents were.. interesting but as you were there, they’d probably at least try to keep up appearances. there wasn’t much else going on but in this tiny town but it gave you a chance to relax and ogle her brother.

their house is huge, like, ridiculously big. much bigger than their small family needed. from what stacy has confided in you, you can gather that her parents are hardly even home. they like to make a big deal about holidays to give the impression of a well put together family but if anything, they’re on the brink of divorce and only holding it together for the fear of being seen as failures.

not that your family are much better, but at least they don’t pretend to like eachother.

steve is up at the door the moment stacy unlocks it, waiting to see which of her sorority friends she’d decided to bring along.

he grins the second he sees you, taking your bag out of your hand and introducing himself before you can even begin to speak. not that you mind.

‘leave her alone, steve,’ stacy warns, rolling her eyes as she begins up the stairs, motioning for you to follow.

‘why don’t you leave me alone? i’m just being a good host, isn’t that right?’ he smiles at you, lugging your bag up the extravagant staircase and toward the room you’ve been assigned.

it’s not as if there’s a lack of them, a multitude of white doors that probably sat empty. it’s incredible how a house could cost so much and yet lack character despite the ample space to decorate.

she shoves him out of the way the second you make it into the room, ‘don’t you have anything better to do?’

‘uh uh,’ he’s smirking now and it’s making your heart feel funny. it’s wrong, totally wrong. but you can’t help it.

when he’d appeared on move in day you’d been star struck, his caramel coloured hair flopping into his eyes and the way his t-shirt clung to his arms had caught you immediately.

you and the rest of the girls in the house, obviously.

‘well go and find something to do you fucking loser,’ pushing him out of the door and slamming it in his face.

you couldn’t exactly tell her that it was fine and actually you preferred if he stayed.. so you grin and give her a fake chuckle, looking around at the room you were to call home for the next week.

‘i’m sorry,’ she sighs, ‘ignore him.. he’s just like that,’ walking over to the pristine bed. it obviously hadn’t been slept in for a while, you don’t doubt that they rarely have guests.

‘it’s okay,’ you smile, exhilarated for what this week will bring.

you don’t see much of the illusive mr. harrington, burrowed away in his office for most of the day with his wife busying around the kitchen, putting on an unnecessarily large spread each day. now you’re not a psychologist but even you can gather that she’s trying to make up for something.

stacy had bundled you into her room under the pretence of studying, both of you sat on her bed with neglected open books. opting to gossip about shit in your house rather than the looming finals.

steve knocks on the door and rushes in without waiting, standing in the doorway with a devilish grin. ‘mom’s drunk again.. you two wanna get out of here before it gets ugly?’ leaning against the doorframe.

he looks extra good today, his grey sweatpants sitting just right. you’re mindful to pull your eyes away when he nears the bed though his eyes never leave you.

‘like what?’ stacy frowns, sitting up and closing the untouched book.

‘i dunno..’ he shrugs, ‘i just don’t wanna be here when he gets back and she’s drunk again,’ fiddling with some trinket on stacy’s shelf.

you can tell that stacy’s not keen on the idea but she doesn’t want to be here for that scene either. you can empathise entirely, which is the exact reason you decided not to go home.

‘okay,’ she turns to you, ‘you okay with that?’

‘yeah.. sounds good,’ smiling at your friend. in your peripheral, you can see steve’s lips twitch into a smirk, cocky bastard.

much to your dismay, the three of you end up bowling. which you wouldn’t usually mind, but the alley was full to the brim with parents and their screaming children, running around the lanes hyped up on copious amounts of sugar.

not to mention the blaring christmas music that was entirely too loud for a tuesday afternoon.

‘you bowl much?’ steve scoots over on the bench, leaning in to whisper of the screeching kids.

‘not really,’ shaking your head innocently, ‘do you?’

‘yeah i’m alright.. i can teach you, if you want?’ ever the opportunist. who were you to deny him that?

‘okay,’ you giggle, blinking up at his chocolate coloured eyes.

it’s pathetic but your knees almost crumble when he walks up behind you, arms coming to envelope yours, large hands perched over yours as stacy tuts and turns away.

‘like this..’ his chest presses against your back, pulling your arm back and letting the ball roll down the lane.

you very nearly groan when he pulls away, hand lingering on your elbow as the pair of you watch the pins knock over. he smiles gently at you without even looking at the pins, he’s already sure he’d won.

‘thanks,’ you nod, keeping your own smile contained as you walk back to the bench, squishing in next to a less than impressed stacy. she’s not stupid but doesn’t dare to say anything and you’re grateful for that at least.

you watch steve take his turn, wondering how much longer you can feign incompetence to get him to touch you.

their house is quiet when you get back. eerily quiet. stacy and steve share a look before heading inside and you already know to prepare for the worst.

mr. harrington is sat facing the blank television, sipping on a small glass of what you presume is whiskey. the fire blazing in front of him, crackling loudly in the otherwise silent house.

‘your mother’s in bed,’ is all he says, refusing to turn around to face his children. he’s a stoic man at the best of times but seemed extra cold tonight. you don’t want to think about what had happened while you were out.

the atmosphere brings you crashing down out of your high, the loud bowling alley seemed like a dream compared to the moody room you stood in. at least your family were entertaining in all their madness. this was just depressing and you don’t have to wonder just why stacy is the way she is now.

steve slinks off upstairs without saying a word and stacy follows, head ducked down. they’ve probably been through this exact routine a hundred times before. you follow along silently, assuming that mr. harrington definitely didn’t want you hanging around downstairs.

before stacy slips away into her room, you grab onto her elbow, pulling her round to face you, ‘my mom drinks too.. i know what it’s like,’ offering some meek words of encouragement. it’s not a lot but you can empathise with the sinking feeling you know she’s feeling.

she gives you a small smile, pulling you in for a quick hug as the shower starts in the bathroom to your left. steve hadn’t hung around, disappearing before you even made it up the stairs.

‘night,’ you mutter before entering your own room.

there had been a tiny part of you that had hoped maybe tonight something would happen but with the scene downstairs and steve’s eagerness to get away, you doubt it.

there’s an almost silent knock at your door, if you were any sleepier, you would’ve missed it.

you know who it is.. what’s waiting on the other side of that door and for a second, you contemplate it. you could very easily turn over and drift off to sleep without ever finding out what could’ve been.. but, you’re not going to do that. not after you’d optimistically worn your best pajamas, dousing yourself in perfume before you had climbed into bed.

sliding out of the bed to open the door quietly and just as you expected, steve is on the other side with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

he doesn’t speak before stepping into the room, shutting the door gently as you stand expectantly before him. your heart is pounding, it’d jump out of your chest if it could.

‘steve,’ you barely whisper, ignoring the growing ache between your thighs. enthralled by the sheer tension in the room, it makes the air heavy, weighing on your shoulders as you practically pant at him.

in one quick move he’s stood in front of you, hands cradling your waist, confidence oozing off of his smile. his hair is still wet, falling onto his face perfectly. it’s almost cruel that someone could look so good so effortlessly.

‘i need you,’ he whispers, his spider-like lashes cascading a shadow over his face in the dull light. he’s so perfect it hurts.

you choose not to reply with words, hastily planting your lips on his, closing the minuscule gap between your bodies as your chest presses to his. you’re walked backwards towards the bed, the excitement is palpable, his hands barely able to contain themselves as they grip and squeeze your flesh.

steve falls backwards onto the bed, pulling you atop of him, clumsily readjusting your knees either side of his hips, gasping into his slack mouth when his grinds upwards, his already erect cock nudging against your core.

pulling your shirt over your head before reconnecting his lips to your jaw, planting hungry kisses to the exposed skin of your neck. this is everything you’ve dreamed of since you arrived, the feel of him desperately moving beneath you becoming entirely too much. you needed him now.

he shimmies his own sweatpants down his thighs, choosing boldly to not wear any underwear. he’s big. his cock springing up against his stomach, gazing down into the space between you, mouth hung open as he works your shorts down with his delicate fingers.

‘what?’ he hushes innocently as if he doesn’t already know. his hand leaves your thigh to wrap around the base of his dick, pumping his fist ever so slowly.

your eyes meet his again, feeling your cheeks flush as the corner of his mouth twitches. if he weren’t so hot, his cockiness would be sickening. but you’re not one to bend to the will of men, brushing off his nerve and instead moving to grip onto his shoulders, positioning yourself above his leaking cock.

‘i know what you sorority girls are like.. you don’t have to- fuck,’ his head rolling back as you lower yourself onto him, gasping quietly at the feeling of fullness that quickly overtakes every other sense.

your fingers clamp around his jaw, pulling his face back up to meet yours, ‘what was that?’ sighing through muffled moans as you begin to rut your hips.

you have him at your mercy, moving your hips antagonistically slow, relishing in the sight of his hooded eyes struggling to stay open, soft pants escaping his lips with every careful movement.

‘ho- shit,’ his fingernails leaving crescent moons into your hips and ass, desperate to cling onto your body in any way he can. guiding your body up and down with the palms of his hands.

‘shh,’ you mutter, connecting your lips to the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quiet his groans. as lavish as this house is, you can bet that it’s not soundproof.

‘you’re so.. fuck- faster baby,’ he whines into your mouth, unappreciative of the calm pace you had set. enjoying the fact that you now held the upper hand, but also acutely aware that the sounds of skin-on-skin are indisputable, paired with his grunts, you’d be caught out in a second.

‘nuhuh,’ shaking your head slightly, face pressed into his sharp jaw, hoping to stifle some of the noises come from your throat.

this is when steve decides he’s had enough, this was his house and if anyone had anything to say then they could. his arm snakes around your waist, holding you in place above him as his legs spread, heels digging into the mattress.

your lips connect once again, in a sloppy kiss that requires minimal effort as his hips begin to thrust up, punching against that soft, spongy spot deep within. and now you’re the one responsible for the too-loud moans, practically screaming into his mouth as his tongue slips into your open mouth. his smirk evident against your lips as his thrusts grow faster.

chasing the same high you can feel growing in the pits of your stomach. you’re not even kissing at this point, lips pressed against the stubble on his cheek as his grip tightens, low grunts rumbling into the minimal space between you with every thrust.

‘oh god,’ you mewl, the all too familiar twist in your gut as his hips begin to stutter, the sound of your bodies connecting was spurring both of you on. not caring about your volume level as you come crashing over the edge.

babbling his name over and over again as you clench around him, shoving your face into his neck as pleasure soars all the way down to your toes, the sensation overwhelming your poor fucked-out brain.

his hands paw at the doughy flesh of your ass, resigning his last bit of energy for his last thrusts, hot spurts of cum paint your walls. steve’s teeth graze against your bare shoulder, suppressing his almighty moan as you collapse into a heap on top of him.

you feel like jelly, unable to lift your head when he pulls out, allowing him to manhandle your body as he shuffles down the bed. you shift slightly, moving to the empty space beside him, reaching down for the blanket, desperate for some modesty despite the explicit scene this room had just witnessed.

that was everything you’d imagined it’d be and more.

‘jesus,’ he sniffs, relaxing into your bed as if he belonged there, ‘anyone ever told you how fucking good you feel?’ his arm reaching out to pull your body into his once more.

‘shut up,’ you mumble, still very much coming back to earth. trying not to get too comfortable with this arrangement but letting your leg slide between his.

his other hand flicks the tiny lamp off, leaving the room in complete darkness. toned arms coming to rest around your waist, chin resting against your head.

‘you can’t sleep in here,’ you warn, though you wouldn’t complain if he did.

‘why not? this is my house, i can sleep wherever i want,’ his fingertips dart around your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you don’t argue, settling into your comfy position nestled into his side. it’s not long before sleep takes over as his fingers trace silly patterns into your back.

but you’re rudely awoken at stupid o’clock in the morning, the sun barely rising outside of the tiny window. steve’s grumbling, tapping softly on your shoulder.

‘i’ve gotta go,’ he whispers into your hair, pulling the blanket off of his body and onto yours.

you’re barely coherent enough to understand what he’s saying, nodding along absentmindedly as sleep negs to take over again. ever the gentleman, he places a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed and rushing out of the room.

he’s gone before you even wake up fully, not registering what had happened until you wake up again, this time at a more appropriate hour.

it’s only then that fear takes over. had you misjudged how loud you were? what if someone had heard? there’s no way they’d turf you out on thanksgiving.. would they?

yet all seems normal when you slink downstairs, joining stacy at the table as she butters toast without a word to be said about your antics. you pray to every being above that you had gone undetected.

‘morning sleepyhead,’ stacy utters, seemingly in a much better mood than the one you left her in last night, ‘sleep well?’

you stare at her for a moment, deciding if the question is loaded or if she’s genuinely interested in how you slept.

‘yeah.. really good, you?’ testing the waters.

‘yeah not bad,’ she smiles, a genuine smile that allows you to release the breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

phew. you were safe.

‘it’s about to get uh.. tense today so, we can just hang out in my room until dinner,’ she nods assuringly. you trust her, not wanting to bare witness to mr. harrington and his cryptic behaviour.

before you can reply, the front door opens and a small brunette walks in with steve trailing closely. behind her, carrying what looks like a suitcase with the most displeased look plastered on his face.

the woman hangs her coat on the hook, flashing a quick wave towards the kitchen where you sat gawping before heading upstairs quickly.

from here, she looked like a cousin or something, someone you hadn’t been told was attending.

she’s pretty, gorgeous eyes and a polite smile that makes you want to smile.

‘who’s that?’ you ask, perplexed at the sight of this stranger who is obviously so comfortable in their home.

‘oh, that’s nancy,’ stacy continues with her toast, not at all bothered by the new arrival.

‘she’s steve’s fiancée.’

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst

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snowwybear · 4 months

Text

𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔠𝔞𝔱 𝑔𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 | 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵

“You’re going to lose”. Vinnie says

“Me?! I could stare into your eyes for days”. You argue back.

It was a rainy day in LA and for whatever reason you and your boyfriend decided to having a staring contest to cure your boredom. You had got into a pretty aggressive discussion on who would beat who. Right now you were currently staring into his deep brown eyes, you loved his eyes. They’re so big and expressive the colour only adding to the puppy dog nature of them. You loved them when they were filled with happiness, you loved them when they were filled the sadness, honesty his eyes made you weak in the knees.

“What are you smiling at?” Vinnie asked, you unaware a giant smile graced your face as you stare into his eyes.

“Nothing, mind your business”. You say with still smiling.

You shift your focus off his eyes and onto his gaze on you. His face was resting on his fist, his lips curling into a sweet smile and finally his deep brown eyes softly gazing at you. God he was perfect, not that you’ll ever admit that to him. He looked like he was studying you, trying to remember every small detail about your face before he blinks and forgets. Your smile grow wider and despite the fact that you are still staring into each other’s souls, he still looks so lovingly at you. You saw Vinnie look you up and down those dreamy eyes. Fuck. You felt your eye becoming dryer and in need for it to close. A few more minutes you can do this.

Blink. “Fucks sake”. You exclaim as your eyes begin your rapidly blink.

“YES!” Vinnie screams throwing his fists up in the air. “I won! I told you I would win”. Vinnie did a little victory dance, rubbing in his win.

“I only lost because of you!”

“Really? I just think you like looking at me”.

“Me looking at you?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “You are mistaken because I don’t find you attractive at all”.

“Oh yeah, is that right?” Vinnie asked crawling over to before straddling your lap.

“Yeah”. You giggle at your boyfriend. “You are so fugly”.

Vinnie just shakes his head before placing his hands either side of your face and giving you a passionate victory kiss.

“Next starting contest we have, I’m doin’ it without my shirt and we’ll see how long you last”.

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie imagines #vinnie smut #vinnie x reader #vinnie x y/n #snowwybear

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specialagentlokitty · 8 months

Text

Cullens x teen!reader - strange family

A Cullen family x teen reader where they adopt an orphan human or wolf shape-shifter? Please - Anon💜

Sitting on the grass outside the school, you sighed to yourself as you looked at the books in your lap.

You didn’t really have an interest in going into the school, not today at least, so you spent the day sat outside working on your homework and studying.

It was nice, peaceful.

At least until a familiar scent hit your nose.

“I’m not causing you any trouble so leave me alone.” You grumbled.

“I just saw you outside is all, do you mind if I have a seat?” The woman asked.

You flicked your gaze up to her, and then shrugged before going back to your studies.

You didn’t have to follow the treaty, since you didn’t belong to the pack, and you weren’t actually from forks itself both the pack on the reserve and the Cullens decided you could stay.

Esme sat down in front of you, and she watched you for a moment.

“Can I ask why you’re not inside? It’s career day, wouldn’t you like to take part?” She asked you.

“I’m fine out here.”

Esme sighed a little bit.

“Won’t your parents be looking for you?”

You shook your head.

“If they’re looking for me I’ll be a bit concerned considering the fact I buried them halfway across the state.”

Esme went quiet and you gathered up your books.

“I just want to be left alone.”

With that you wondered away and left the school, going into the forest to find a different place where you could study.

The Cullens had made an attempt to speak to you, at least Alice, Carlisle, Emmett and Esme had.

The others weren’t too keen on the idea of a rouge werewolf running about the area, but didn’t have much say in it.

You didn’t want anything to do with them or whatever it was that was going on with Bella and other vampires.

You simply just wanted to be left alone.

You spent a few hours away from everyone until you heard someone toss something just in front of you.

“You need to stop running away.”

“I don’t want to stay in that home sir.”

You looked up at the man, and he sighed a little bit as he walked over to you, sitting on the fallen tree.

“Well they’re moving you to a new home today anyway, your current careers have to leave the state.”

You looked at Charlie and frowned a little.

“They’re alright people, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Cullens, you go to school with their kids.”

“Oh hell no.”

“You don’t get a choice in this (Y/N).”

You looked at him and went back to putting your things away.

You didn’t want to argue with him, he had been kind enough to look out for you since you were based here a few years ago.

“Fine.”

Charlie smiled at you.

“Thank you, come on then, I’ve already taken your bags.”

You rolled your eyes at him but followed him back to his car, and you tossed yourself into the back seat and laid across it.

Charlie looked at you but said nothing.

You didn’t want to stay with the vampires, so despite their efforts to get you to talk to them you wouldn’t do it.

You spent months confined to the room they offered you, or laying around in the forest as your wolf form.

Today was one of those days, and you turned around as you heard one of the Cullens approaching you.

“Come on, don’t do that.” Emmett laughed.

He walked around you and dropped himself in front of you and you huffed, baring your teeth at him in warning.

“Don’t be so stubborn.”

You made a grumbling noise and flicked your eyes to him, and phased back.

“What do you want?”

“Everyone is busy, and Rosalie went hunting with Esme and Alice..” Emmett grumbled.

You laughed a little.

“So you’re just lonely?”

“Not since I’ve come to annoy you.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the grass, and Emmett tossed a bag at you.

“You’ve been out here for hours, it’s something to eat and drink.”

You nodded and you looked at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” You replied.

Emmett laid down next to you and looked up at the trees.

“Do you feel out of place here?”

You thought for a moment.

“Sometimes I guess yeah. But it’s nice knowing you guys aren’t human you know? It makes it easier I guess.”

“Why not live on the reserve?”

“And obey their stupid pack rules? Yeah no.”

Emmett chuckled and he looked at you.

“You’re not so bad. Want to go rock climbing?”

You shrugged and got up.

You began to spend more time with Emmett, he was like you, a little reckless and completely care free, and you got along well.

And you began to spend more time with the Cullens, you began to realise they weren’t so bad.

You got along with them they were good people to you, Carlisle and Esme cooked for you, Alice and Jasper helped you with school work, Emmett and you played game, and Rosalie and you just sat and read in peace.

It was a nice life compared to what you were used too.

You were part of the family, though you didn’t get along with Edward or Bella, or their obsession with one another.

Sitting at the table, you were eating your dinner waiting for the family to come home.

“We’ve got something for you.” Carlisle smiled.

You looked up at him and he set some papers down in front of you.

Looking down you carefully read them.

“You want to adopt me…?” You asked quietly.

“You’re already part of the family.” Esme smiled.

You looked at the two adults and they smiled softly at you.

“We asked everybody else to stay away so we could do this quietly.” Esme said gently.

You looked at them both.

“We know it may be strange, vampires adopting a werewolf, but we already love you like our own.” Carlisle said.

You stood up and looked at the papers.

“I..”

You looked at them.

It had been years since you had a family, a place to call your own.

You lost your family years ago and had been on your own ever since.

Esme placed her hand on your shoulder and you looked up at her with tears in your eyes.

“We just want to hear what you think.” She whispered.

“I.. I would like that…”

You set the papers down, hugging her tightly and she laughed, hugging you back and Carlisle walked over to start signing the papers.

You were going to be an official member of their little strange family, and how stranger could it be to add a werewolf to the mix

#twilight #twilight x reader #twilight x y/n #twilight x you #twilight imagine

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babydollmarauders · 7 months

Text

ENCHANTED — JAMIE DRYSDALE

jamie drysdale x hughes!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n meets Jamie on a boring night and becomes completely enchanted with him

notes: this is my first time ever writing for Jamie, so bear with me! (4k words, precisely.)

this wasn’t where i wanted to spend my night.

after two years in Anaheim, i thought i had successfully avoided my brother’s best friend dragging me to parties or nights out.

i always had an excuse handy.

“sorry Trevor, i have a big test. i gotta study.”

“i have major cramps, sorry Trev.”

“i have study group, sorry!”

“sorry Trevor, i have a shift at the campus store!”

that last one came back to bite me in the ass after Trevor had mentioned it to Jack and my loving brother outed me on the fact that i don’t even have a job.

that’s what got me here. finally conned into being Trevor’s friendly plus-one to John Gibson’s end-of-the-season party. despite the fact that i was telling the truth this time when i said i had to study for finals.

Trevor had pulled some pouty puppy face over facetime, reminded me that i lied to him last time, and even pulled out the “i just wanna hang out with you, mini Hughes. i never get to see you, even though we live in the same city. you may as well be as far away as Jack.”

and just like that, i was putty in his hands. i agreed to accompany, only on the agreement that he wouldn’t leave me alone when we got here. and he hasn’t, so far.

he stands next to me, an arm leant against my shoulder, as he chats with Troy Terry.

“this is y/n Hughes, my itty bitty best buddy!” his speech is slightly slurred, already significantly buzzed, but not quite drunk yet.

“you gotta stop calling me that.” i roll my eyes. “i’m not fourteen and 5’3 anymore.”

“but you’re still not my height,” he laughs, ruffling my hair. “so it stays.”

i send Troy a pleading glance and his head tips back in laughter.

“so, you’re Quinn, Jack, and Luke’s sister?” Troy asks.

“yeah, i’m between Jack and Luke.” i explain and he nods, making a comment about how hard it must be being the only girl.

“where’s Jamie, Trevor? thought he would’ve driven with you.” Troy questions, and i’m grateful for the change of subject.

i love my brothers, but they’re all anyone ever wants to talk about. i’m my own person, my life doesn’t revolve around them.

“nah, i picked this one up, so Jamie’s driving on his own. he should be here soon though.”

i zone out as the conversation shifts to their off-season plans, forcing a laugh whenever Trevor tells a horrendous joke, and faking a smile when he mentions that he’ll be coming to my brothers lake house.

but eventually i get bored, instead turning my head to look around the crowded house.

i recognize a few people from the Ducks games i’ve watched or attended. John Gibson, the goalie. Mason McTavish, the young center.

but then i see him.

dark hair and blue eyes contrast against pale skin. even from across the room, i can see the freckles that litter across his nose and cheekbones. his gaze shifts around the room, and when it settles on where i am, he seems to let out a relieved sigh, making his way over.

my body tenses, my posture becoming straighter, and as i push my shoulders back slightly, i accidentally knock Trevor’s arm off. but he doesn’t seem to notice, a large goofy smile breaking out across his face as he cheers.

“Jimbo! you made it!”

a blush rises to the gorgeous boy’s cheeks, huffing out an awkward chuckle. it’s beautiful. he’s beautiful.

“Jimmy, this is y/n. y/n, this is Jamie!” Trevor introduces us and realization settles over me.

this is Jamie? Trevor’s best friend and roommate in California?

he reminds me of a disney prince. his eyes meet mine, wonder shining amongst them.

“have we met? you seem kinda familiar.” his voice reminds me of daylight breaking amongst gray clouds. warmth and security flowing throughout my body.

but before i can respond, Trevor butts his way in again.

“i’m gonna go get another drink! i’ll be back.”

Trevor pushes his way between us, heading off toward the kitchen, and Jamie laughs again.

“so, how drunk is he?” Jamie questions, his head nodding towards where Trevor disappeared.

“well, about ten minutes ago, he was singing me the mighty ducks theme song.” i explain and Jamie nods in understanding.

“got it. so, he’s sober.” he remarks and i let out a giggle.

“yeah,” i drag out. “there really isn’t much of a difference between sober and drunk Trevor, is there?”

“not when he’s as wild drunk as he is sober.” Jamie jokes, and i hum in agreement.

“so, you’re the infamous Jamie Drysdale?” i raise an eyebrow, watching as his cheeks turn pink.

“oh god, he talks about me?” he laughs and i nod.

“you’ve been mentioned a few times.” i confirm. “all good things, of course.”

Jamie and i stand in that same spot almost all night, eventually moving to the couch when we realize that Trevor isn’t coming back.

“so, you’re a student at… Chapman?” he gathers.

“yeah, i’m about to end my junior year. one year online during the pandemic, and two years on campus here.” i explain and he nods his head in understanding, taking a sip of his soda.

“what’s your major?”

“broadcast journalism. my main focus is sports entertainment.” he nods again before his nose scrunches in confusion, his eyebrows pulling together.

“and you’ve known Trevor this whole time?” i hum out in agreement. “how have we never met until now?”

“okay, don’t judge me.” i preface, making him chuckle, but agree. “i’m not much of a party person. i prefer to stay in my dorm and watch movies. so, i always make up an excuse to get out of coming to parties with Trevor.”

his head tips back in laughter, causing a rush of heat to spread across my face, but at the sight of my blush, he shakes his head.

“wait, no! no! i’m not laughing at you, i swear! i’m laughing because i do the same thing.” his words are spoken through broken laughter, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“really? you’re his roommate!”

“that doesn’t mean i love partying!” he defends himself. “i’m more introverted. quieter than Z. a lot of people wonder why we’re friends, but, we balance each other out.”

he shrugs and i tilt my head, squinting my eyes.

“hm, yeah, i could see that.” i admit. “my best friend and i are the same way. she’s a lot like Trevor.”

as the words leave my mouth, my face drops; my eyes wide, my lips parted in horror.

“oh god, she’s like Trevor.” Jamie’s entire body folds in laughter, his face turning bright red as his hand lands on my knee, sending sparks up my leg.

he looks so carefree and happy, i can’t help but sneak a picture.

“so, neither of us like parties,” Jamie starts, once he’s finally calmed down from laughing at my horror. “and Trevor has left us, and i doubt he’s coming back.”

“definitely not. that boy has the attention span of a goldfish.” i joke and Jamie agrees.

“so why don’t we get out of here?” he asks. my lips part, blood rushing to my cheeks, but before i can speak, he cuts me off. “wait, not like that. that came out wrong! what i mean is, i could really go for some food. and maybe getting out of this crowded house.”

“oh- yeah.” i nod, sliding my phone in my pocket. “yeah, that sounds great.”

“great!” he rises from the couch, holding his hand out for me to take; and i do, slipping my hand into his larger, more calloused hold.

he pulls me up from the couch, his grip never faltering as we exit the house with an irish goodbye and head to his car.

he opens the passenger door, finally dropping my hand to allow me to slide in, but i catch his hand flex in my peripheral vision and despite my now cold hand, my heart races in my chest. did i just get my own pride and prejudice moment?

“do you have any special requests on where to eat?” he questions as he starts the car.

“um, no.” i shrug. “anywhere with chicken tenders is fine with me.”

he laughs. “then i know just the place.”

the ride is made in a comfortable silence after that. nothing but the sound of country music flowing through the radio.

Jamie pulls into a diner parking lot, mostly empty due to the late timing, and we head inside, taking a seat in a booth towards the middle of the establishment.

“your chicken tenders, await.” he grins, pointing out the item on the laminated menu, slightly sticky with syrup.

“hey, don’t knock the chicken tenders. they’re an important food group.” i stick out my lip in a fake pout and he chuckles.

“yeah, if you’re ten.”

“oh yeah, well what are you gonna get? a burger?” he opens his mouth to defend himself, but as i raise a brow, he chooses to stay silent, letting out a ‘hmph’

“that’s what i thought.” i grin in triumph as a waitress stops by to take our orders. as soon as she leaves, my phone buzzes in my pocket and i slide it out, huffing a laugh at the text.

***

from: quack-quack 🦆

yo, where’d u go?! u disappeared on me!

***

i show the text to Jamie, who laughs as well.

“guess he did try to come back to us.” he shrugs.

“yeah, three hours after he left us!” i giggle, holding my phone up to take a picture of Jamie, who smiles, his arms crossed on the table.

the photo is the only response Trevor gets, but barely 5 minutes later, interrupting Jamie and i’s heavy debate on which Star Wars movie is the best, i get another text.

***

from: jacky ♥️🖤

why is Z telling me you’re out with a guy? at 11:30 at night?? y/n, go home. now. it’s unsafe and i can’t believe you’re being so reckless. i’ll deal with this in the morning.

***

i roll my eyes, choosing to ignore the text and slip my phone back into my pocket.

“Trevor again?” Jamie asks but i shake my head.

“no, worse. my brother.” i explain as our food arrives.

i smile over at the waitress, muttering out a ‘thank you’ before she retreats.

“you have a brother?” he speaks up as i take a bite of chicken and i nod.

“i have three.” i don’t give him any more information than that. if he’s unaware of who my brothers are, then i don’t want to tell him. not tonight, at least.

“oh damn.” he blows out a breath, his eyes widening. “i have a brother, but i can’t imagine having three. and being the only girl?”

“yeah, they’re pretty protective.”

“do they live here?” he asks, and it feels nice; being able to talk about my family without someone already knowing who they are and pretty much everything about them.

“no.” i shake my head. “one lives in canada, the other two on the east coast.”

he ask me more questions about my family, and i try to keep my answers as vague as possible, while still not being too vague that he thinks i don’t wanna talk about them.

for every question i answer, he gives me a fact about his own family, until the conversation shifts to jobs.

“well obviously you know i’m a hockey player.” he says as i push my now-empty plate away. “do you work?”

“not right now.” i tell him. “i’m focused on school at the moment. i got a full-ride scholarship, because of my grades, so i don’t have to pay for my tuition, and my parents pay for my dorm.

“but because they don’t have to pay for my tuition, they send me a monthly allowance from my college fund so that i don’t have to work and i can focus on my schooling.”

he follows along as i explain, maintaining eye contact.

“that’s cool. it’s good, that you get to focus on your grades.” i yawn as he finishes speaking, attempting to cover it, but he catches on. “oh shit, are you tired?”

“i- just a little bit.” i wince, hoping he doesn’t think i found him boring or anything.

“i can drop you off at your dorm, if you want. i know Trevor picked you up”

i nod as he motions over to the waitress for the check.

“yes, please.” i give in. “i usually wouldn’t mind staying out all night with you, because i’m having a really good time, and you’re so funny and sweet. but, i need to sleep so i can study tomorrow. i have a final on Monday.”

Jamie pays, waving off my offer to pay for my own food, and we exit the diner, climbing back into his car.

the time on his dashboard reads one am and i internally cringe at the idea of having to sneak back into my dorm.

the drive is mainly quiet as i give him directions to my dorm, and i sigh as we pull up in front of the building.

“i had a lot of fun.” i turn to him with a small smile as i unbuckle my seatbelt. “thanks for making tonight a lot less boring, Jamie.”

“yeah, me too.” he nods, “thanks for saving me from drunk Trevor.”

i’m grateful for the darkness of the night sky as he leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek, thanking whatever higher being that he’s unable to see the pink twinge of my cheekbones.

i bid him a goodnight as i exit the car, looking back as i reach the door to the dormitory building, to see him waiting for me to get inside before he leaves. i wave another goodbye, him doing the same as i disappear into the brick building.

i’m blushing, grinning like a lovesick fool the entire elevator ride up to my dorm.

i wonder if he knows how enchanted i was by him. one night together and i’m already thinking about how i would introduce him to my family.

i tiptoe into the dorm room, quiet to try and avoid waking my best friend slash roommate, but my efforts go unappreciated as she’s already sitting up in her bed, waiting for me.

“how was it? were you miserable without me?” Brandy asks from her spot propped against her mountain of pillows. “i bet you were, right?”

but i’m quiet; my mind still stuck on Jamie. he was amazing. so kind, and funny. and he actually asked about me. he genuinely wanted to know about my family and friends, what i liked to do in my free time, and what i wanted to do with my degree.

“oh- i know that look.” Brandy squeals, hopping off her bed and disregarding my half-nakedness in the midst of getting changed into my pajamas, pulling me in for a hug. “who is he? what’s his name? where’s he from? does he have a hot brother?”

“Trevor’s roommate, Jamie, Canada, and he has a brother but i don’t know what he looks like.” i spill, my cheeks red and a wide grin on my lips.

you’d think i just told Brandy i won the lottery with the way she lets out an excited shriek, jumping up and down as i finish changing.

i leave her to get out her excitement as i go wash my face and brush my teeth, but when i’m back, she just seems even more excited.

“tell me all about him!” she demands, hopping back into her bed, turning to face mine as i crawl in and bury myself in my covers.

“he was enchanting.” i sigh, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. “he was so funny, and he was so sweet. we really clicked, Bran.

“we met at the party and spent hours just talking and getting to know each other. and then he took me to this diner, and we spent another hour and a half just talking about our lives. and he doesn’t know who my brothers are! i mean, he knows who they are, obviously, because he plays hockey, but he doesn’t know they’re my brothers.”

“oh sweet angel,” she sighs, and i turn my head to look at her. “you seem so happy.”

her eyes are soft, a gentle smile on her face.

“i am.” i tell her.

“are you gonna see him again?” she questions, laying down under her blankets.

“i don’t know, i—” my mood deflates, my face dropping as realization settles over me. “i didn’t get his number.”

“so ask Trevor for it.” she shrugs, as if it’s easy. and i guess for her, someone who doesn’t have crippling anxiety, it is.

“i can’t.” i shake my head. “that would be so embarrassing. i don’t want Trevor to know i’m interested in his friend. not yet.”

“you’ll see him again, sweet angel.” Brandy assures me, flicking off her lamp. “it’ll work out.”

the room goes dark and quiet, and a mere five minutes later, i can hear her snores fill the room. but i’m still awake.

i grab my phone from where it rests on my bedside table, unlocking it, i’m unsurprised to see it’s two am. i click into my photos app, swiping back and forth between the two pictures i took of Jamie tonight.

questions plague my thoughts.

does he have a girlfriend in canada?

who does he love?

when is he leaving, now that the season is over?

will i ever see him again?

please let this be the very first page of our story.

please don’t let this be where our storyline ends.

i turn off my phone, plugging it in and setting it back on my nightstand. his name echoes through my thoughts, and when i close my eyes, all i picture is him.

please don’t be in love with someone else.

please don’t have somebody waiting on you.

i drift into sleep, my dreams overridden by the same blue eyed, freckled boy that had taken over my mind.

*** TWO MONTHS LATER ***

it’s been months, but i still haven’t moved past that April night with Jamie.

i can be having a normal summer day, and yet some way or another, i’m reminded of the beautiful boy that i spent that night with.

sometimes it’s the blue of the lake water, which reminds me of his eyes. others it’s the color of my coffee in the morning, that reminds me of his hair.

it doesn’t help that nearly all of Trevor’s stories from the past season, include Jamie in some way.

it’s been months, and i still hope to every higher power, that i’ll see him again. that he’s single and hoping to see me too.

i’m sprawled across the couch, my head in my eldest brother’s lap as the guys play chel.

i was reading a book, but that’s been long abandoned; now closed and resting on my chest as i daydream about the freckled disney prince like boy from Anaheim.

“hey.” my trance is broken when Quinn pokes my cheek. i glance up at him, tearing my eyes away from their zoned out glare at the tv. “you okay?”

“yeah, i’m fine.” i give him a small smile. “just wondering where Trevor is and if he can stay there. it’s so quiet.”

Quinn laughs, zoning back into the tv screen as a new game starts between Jack and Cole.

“he went to-” Quinn is cut off by the front door opening and Trevor’s loud voice echoing throughout the house.

“honey, i’m home!” Trevor calls out and Quinn and i share an exasperated glance. “and i brought a guest!”

my brows furrow together at his statement, listening to the two pairs of footsteps that get closer to the living room.

“guys, this is Jamie. you know him from… playing against him.”

my eyes go wide, my head snapping up as i quickly raise myself to a sitting position, accidentally kicking Jack in the groin from my feet having been in his lap.

Jack lets out a groan, doubling over, while Cole laughs and takes that as his chance to score a goal on him in the video game.

“Jimbo, this is Cole, Alex, Quinn, and Jack, who looks like his appendix burst.” Trevor introduces and Jack coughs, holding up his middle finger at his best friend. “and you already know y/n.”

at the mention of my name and the flick of Trevor’s finger towards me, Jamie’s eyes snap to me, a smile on his face.

“hi.” i grin, shuffling to my knees on the couch.

“hey, i’m glad to see you again. i didn’t know you would be here.” Jamie’s eyes light up, crinkling as his smile gets brighter.

“it’s her brothers’ house Jimmy, of course she’ll be here.” Trevor laughs, slapping Jamie’s back, whose eyes go wide as he realizes.

“oh- these are your brothers? you didn’t say they played hockey.” Jamie chuckles awkwardly.

“what?” Jack huffs from behind me. “not only have you met him? but you didn’t tell him about your dear old brothers?”

Jack wraps an arm around the front of my shoulders, pulling me back into him and ruffling my hair.

“get off me, jackass!” i break free from his hold, making him laugh. “i didn’t tell him who you are, but i did tell him how annoying you are.”

Jack gasps in mock offense, reaching out for me, but i clamber into Quinn’s lap.

“keep him away, Quinny!” i shriek, making all the guys laugh.

“Jack, leave her alone.” Quinn chuckles and Jack slumps back on his seat, rolling his eyes.

“you two are no fun.”

“hey mini Hughes?” Trevor starts, plopping down into the seat beside Jack. “you mind showing Jimmy to the empty room? i wanna beat Cole’s ass at chel.”

“sure.” i rise from Quinn’s lap, sending a smile towards Jamie as i motion for him to follow me. he picks up his suitcase, shuffling behind me through the house and up the stairs until i lead him into the empty room beside mine.

“here ya go. your room for the… however long you’re here.” he chuckles at my words, setting his suitcase down on the bed before he turns to me.

“ya know, i was hoping i’d see you again.” he confesses, my cheeks turning pink.

“yeah?” he nods, “me too.”

“i was enchanted to meet you that night.” his hand grabs ahold of mine, lacing our fingers together. “and then i realized i didn’t get your number, and it felt too weird to get it from Trevor. so, i was really hoping i would run into you next season, but here you are now.”

“here i am.” i bite my lip, glancing down at his lips before back at his eyes.

“would you wanna go out while i’m here?” he asks shyly. “like, on a real date?”

“i would love that, Jamie.” i take the chance while i feel bold, wrapping my arms around his neck, his following suit and coiling around my waist.

“yeah?” he replies giddily, his voice filled with excitement and nerves.

“yeah. i’d love that a lot.” his eyes flicker down to my lips before his tongue darts out to wet his own.

“hey, Jamie?” my words earn me a distracted hum in return. “you finally gonna kiss me now?”

“oh yeah.” he nods, causing me to giggle.

his head dips down, our noses brushing as his lips finally press against mine. my entire body melts into his, my hands cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. our lips fit together perfectly, fire spreading throughout my body at the feeling.

and all i can think, is how enchanting this feeling is.

#speak now fic list #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale blurb #anaheim ducks #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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ebullientheart · 8 months

Text

roomies. spencer reid x reader

content — fem!bau!reader. injured!reader. fluff. anonymous request. brief injury description. reader uses conditioner. making out.

when you no longer need your live-in doctor, you find you desperately want him to stay.

you were absolutely fuming when the unsub shot you. just one, clean through the shoulder, that caused you to fall in a twist down the stairs, spraining your ankle. the chances of both of those events occurring had to be low, and spencer assured you of the statistics to back that theory up. just bad luck. fuming.

unfortunately, it also meant your life was substantially difficult to navigate while healing. you could barely shower, cook food, unlock doors, get changed. in fact it wasn’t ‘barely’, you just couldn’t. so the natural solution was to have your best friend move in with you while you were out of action entirely.

“it’s no big deal.” he shrugged. your best friend that you harboured secret feelings for, shrugged. no big deal.

there were some challenges.

“spencer,” you huffed for the tenth time that morning, “i am not swallowing those gross fish vitamins.”

he tutted at you, “they’re cod, and they’re going to help your sprain recover. valid studies have shown-”

awkwardly, you stood and used your uninjured arm to jab him in the chest, “i don’t care if they would grow me a whole new bone, they’re gross.”

it was weeks like that, when he wasn’t on cases. harmless bickering as he fussed over you like a newborn. but despite your teasing, you were not looking forward to the day he’d be moving back into his own apartment. it was nice, having someone to come home to. it took the sting out of the loneliness you felt, and you weren’t delusional for thinking he felt that way too. as your casts and slings were eased off, the both of you looked rather dejected, confusing the nurse tending to you greatly.

spencer nudged your good shoulder, “now you can help me box up my things.”

you’d gotten used to his things, though. his aftershave in the bathroom, his chess set by the couch. even his supposedly mobile library he’d moved into your apartment. you knew how empty it was going to feel.

in fear of that emptiness, you blurted it out on the car ride home from the hospital, “maybe you should stay a bit longer.”

“yeah?” he briefly took his eyes off the road to raise a brow at you, “you think you still need help?”

“i don’t need it.” you mumbled, picking the skin around your cuticles nervously. spencer noticed, and flicked your hands apart as a silent way of telling you not to do that. still taking care of you.

he didn’t push your declaration, just nodding, “okay. how long were you thinking?”

somewhere between a bated breath and a rush of words, you pushed out, “like, forever?”

this time, both his brows jumped and he had to clear his throat to stop his voice from cracking, “really? like roommates?”

no, like lovers, “yes, like roomies. nevermind, it was a stupid idea.”

“i don’t think so. i’d love to be… roomies.” the word sounded strange, too informal, coming from him, and it made you laugh. which made him smile.

after that very spencer-esque conversation, he moved the rest of his material belongings in, and put his flat up on listings. it sold fast, and you had to wonder why he’d agreed so rapidly, considering his place was notably nicer than yours. you had to wonder why he agreed at all, though it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone else that you hadn’t been able to separate. and the rest unfolded like one of the rom-coms you forced him to watch.

you no longer needed him to wash your hair over the side of the bath, which had at first been annoying because he did not wash the conditioner out properly. but now you missed it; it had become almost a bonding experience. that became true of a lot of things you’d adjusted to in the past months. him helping you into bed, you playing the wounded card to make him watch your shows on tv.

one thing that hadn’t changed was the sheer amount of card games you two played. you knew spencer was always going to win, but you tortured yourself with it anyway. one night, you were splitting the deck as you announced, “i’ve got a new game. it’s called rummy version two.”

before he could explain all the deviations rummy had from its origin over the years, making your game not a second version but at least an eighth, you rushed on to outline the rules. you were completely making it up as you went along, and continued adding to it as you played. it was impossible for you to lose, and spencer quickly figured out that you were bullshitting. for a profiler, you had a terrible poker face.

“you’re making this up.” he stated, putting his cards down.

you leant over the table, now able to rest pressure on your arm, and challenged, “prove it.”

there was a thick tension that had arisen suddenly between the pair of you, though the more you thought, the less sudden it seemed. maybe it had been building for a while. like the blush steadily rising to his cheeks as you got slightly closer to his face.

he smirked, “you’re winning.”

“rude. that doesn’t mean i’m-”

what it didn’t mean, spencer never got to hear, because it was at that moment he surged forward to close the remaining distance between your lips. you almost fell when you two collided, but his grip had attached to your upper arm to steady you. his kiss did not relent, demanding and speaking of all the impatience he’d felt recently. you responded likewise, threading your hands into his curls as soon as you got your balance, barely breaking for breath.

spencer’s skin on yours was something you had thought about more than you cared to admit, and with the fervour he was kissing you with, you thought he might’ve experienced the same. he was almost desperate against you, hands trailing to smooth over any section of exposure he could find, before one rested on the side of your face, and the other on your thigh.

“spencer,” you gasped, pulling away to catch air in your lungs, “need to breathe.”

he nodded as though he’d forgotten that, mimicking your heavy breaths, but not taking his hands off you. you rested your forehead against his and blinked. it was starting to sink in, the line you’d just crossed together.

“do we have to tell hotch about this?” you suddenly asked.

spencer frowned, “why are you thinking about hotch right now?”

you laughed and kissed him again, quickly this time, “you’re right, let’s just…”

“yeah.”

thank god he agreed to be roomies.

#🤍ebullientheart #spencer reid #criminal minds #bau!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x injured!reader #injured!reader #fem!reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #humour #fluff #spencer reid x bau!reader #tw injury

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transmascissues · 2 years

Text

every day i think about how my old psychiatrist (who was notoriously horrible on many levels, to be clear) tried to convince me to stay on the antidepressants i was coming off of when i told her i was starting testosterone because she was convinced that i’d be incapable of handling the “intense mood swings” that she said it would cause if i was unmedicated

mind you, i was coming off of these meds because they were doing absolutely fucking nothing for me and she had fought me on stopping them every step of the way — in her mind, me starting t was the perfect chance to make one final (transphobic) push against my desire to stop putting completely pointless drugs in my body

she consistently referred to hrt as me “going on steroids” and told me with every ounce of condescending concern she could muster that she had never had a patient start t without being on antidepressants (as if i was supposed to see that fact as anything other than further proof that her main goal as a psychiatrist was just to make as much money as possible by pushing meds on people)

i tried to explain to her that countless trans people i’d talked to had said that being on t made them feel more emotionally stable, not less, and that i had already chosen a method of hrt that would minimize hormonal fluctuations as much as possible, but she wouldn’t believe me — there’s no question in my mind that she just saw me as a ~naive little girl who didn’t understand how testosterone could make my life hell~

and of course, my mom jumped on that idea and started telling me about how it’s not that she doesn’t like that i’m trans, it’s just that she’s ~so worried~ about what the ~big bad testosterone~ might to to my ~poor fragile mental health~

and when i started t, i was terrified that they would be proven right

now i’m 5 months on t (and a few months post-ending that doctor-patient relationship as well) and what do you know? my mood is better than ever! my therapist (who has known me far longer and actually cares about my well-being) says she’s never seen me this happy, and that she feels like i’m actually living for the first time! it’s been incredible!

in fact, i’ve come to the realization that i most likely had premenstrual dysphoric disorder before t, and that it was contributing to a huge percentage of my mental breakdowns and suicidal thoughts, so it seems there were hormones causing mood swings that i couldn’t handle without proper treatment after all, but testosterone isn’t the cause of those issues — turns out it’s the treatment i desperately needed to manage them!

and after some research and hearing from other people, i’ve learned that it wasn’t all anecdotal after all, because some studies have actually found evidence to support the idea that testosterone has antidepressant effects — i told my therapist that testosterone felt the way the antidepressants i had been on were supposed to feel, but i had no clue there was science to back that up

so now i’m just left being endlessly furious with the way testosterone is demonized as some horrible poisonous drug that will destroy your mental health along with everything else in your life, because being on it has improved my quality of life exponentially and that alone makes being on it SO worthwhile, but no one ever gets to see that side of being on t because they’re so busy drumming up fear about how it’ll wreck your moods instead

of course, that’s not to say some people don’t experience serious mood swings on t, because i would never deny someone else’s experience with their own body and mind, and i think it’s important that people know those effects are possible when they start t

what i AM saying is that i would guess that if you looked at pure numbers, more people have probably had a really positive experience like mine than a seriously negative one, and it’s very telling that the negative ones are portrayed as a universal part of being on t despite seemingly being a smaller percentage when you actually talk to lots of trans people, while the positive ones are portrayed as a fluke at best and impossible or even deceptive at worst despite being a really common theme in trans people’s accounts of being on t

testosterone is medicine. testosterone is healing.

it doesn’t solve all our problems — i’m certainly far from cured of all my mental health issues — but it sure as hell lightens the load, and i’m sick and tired of people acting like it’s a horrible thing and not the fucking miracle worker that it is for some of us

#transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #trans men #transmascs #testosterone #hrt

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petricorah · 10 months

Text

zukka ficlet - knee pain 1.6k

“Bleeding hog monkeys,” Sokka cursed through gritted teeth as the leather strap on his knee brace finally snapped off. It had been weakened in their last fight with Fire Nation stragglers. A few groups were less than excited about the new fire lord’s orders—aka, to stop the attempt at world domination—and had finally decided to fight back. The gaang had been traveling the past few months to subdue them. Sokka insisted he was going to help, even though his knee, still wounded from falling during their fight with the airships, wasn’t as agreeable than his mind. Putting aside his slight lack of speed and faulty reactions in battle, it was causing him insurmountable pain. He had engineered a knee brace to help, and it had reduced the stress on his joints and allowed him to fight closer to his previous abilities, but the brace was now nothing more than a tattered mess of singed leather and half melted buckles.

Sokka balled up the frayed array of straps and chuckled it into the river he was sitting next to—an action that sent pain clambering up his leg, and making him yelp with a certain high pitched sound that certainly wasn’t manly.

“Sokka?”

Sokka immediately flinched into upright position. “Z-Zuko,” he chirped, attempting to casually lean against the rock he was standing near as Zuko emerged from the woods. “Fire Lord Zuko. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Zuko rolled his eyes and walked up. “I told you to stop calling me that." He came to a stop in front of him, and Sokka couldn't help but admire him. His hair was getting even longer now, and it suited him.

It had been quite some time since the coronation. Lots of time together, working to undo the damage his father had done. Both by his side in the fire nation as his ambassador, and now, traveling again. So much had changed, and while he certainly looked more regal now, with his long hair and patterned robes, he still made Sokka's heart race like he had at boiling rock all that time ago. Perhaps even more so, as they'd continued to get closer as they worked—

"Dinner’s almost gone, and you weren’t back yet.” A teasing smile played at Zuko's lips, despite his attempts to appear stoic and wise. “I thought you were stuck in a hole.”

“Hey!” Sokka said, with an accusing wave of his finger. “You weren’t there for that.”

“Toph told me,” Zuko said. “Several times.”

Sokka clicked his tongue in embarrassment, feeling his cheeks warm. Damn Toph. In an attempt to make up for her and Zuko’s lack of a life-changing bonding trip, she’d taken to telling any story that made Zuko laugh—and most of those tended to be at Sokka’s expense.

“But I see you’re above ground,” Zuko said, his golden eyes passing over Sokka, seeming to glow in the dim light. “And in one piece. So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sokka said with a fake lofty air.

“You’re missing dinner,” Zuko said. “And it’s pig hen, your favorite.”

He never could get anything past him.

Sokka sighed in defeat and blew air to move a strand of hair from his face. “My knee hurts. I was trying to fix the brace, and I couldn’t, so it’s going to hurt more until I can get materials to make a new one.”

“You told Katara it didn’t hurt.” The words came in Zuko’s standoffish deadpan. Sometimes it was hard to tell when Zuko was just stating a fact in his rough voice or when he was being belligerent.

“Yeah, well. She’s having fun with Aang tonight. They’re all gross and obnoxiously lovey-dovey.” His looked away, at anything other than Zuko’s intense expression. Maybe if he studied the ants on the ground enough it would teleport him out of this conversation. “I’m not going to ruin that by making her bend water over my knee for an hour and then be all worried after.” He shook his head, and then met Zuko’s eyes again with what he hoped was a convincing smile. “It’s fine.”

Zuko’s stare was unnervingly sharp. Deadly. It was similar to the look he used to give them when they were about to fight, or the look he gave conniving fire lord generals who were faithful to his father’s old ways. Like he was really fucking angry and the only thing stopping him from setting things ablaze was Iroh’s voice in his head telling him to breathe.

But in an instant, it was gone.

“I’ll do it,” Zuko said curtly.

Sokka snorted. “You’ll do what?”

“I’ll work on your knee.”

“Yeah, thanks, but I don’t need my skin melted. When I do, I’ll give you a call.”

“Pain relief,” Zuko corrected, glaring at him like it should have been obvious that Zuko wasn't suggesting amputation by agonizing flame. “I’ve been…working on it. Uncle said the elements can learn from each other, so I figured there must be a way. I know your knee has been hurting so…I’ve been practicing.” He nervously rubbed the back of his hair. “It will help. Make it feel better, if only for a bit.”

Sokka blinked, staring at him with wide eyes. Zuko did all that for him? For him?

But Zuko’s pointed gaze snapped back to him, making Sokka’s heart flinch.

“It isn’t a choice. Either you do it with me or you ask Katara.” He stalked forward, almost threateningly, making Sokka take a half step back. “It would have been in a better place by now if you had rested at first. You can’t keep hurting yourself and pretending like it doesn’t matter—”

“Okay,” Sokka said, putting his hands up with a gentle laugh. Only Zuko would show he cared by trying to intimidate Sokka into taking care of himself. “Okay, we’ll do it.” He snorted, trying to offset the real emotions he was feeling with a joke. “What am I gonna do, run away from you?”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny.”

Sokka blinked. Maybe it would have been funnier if he hadn’t landed on his bad knee after saving Zuko from an arrow, but that was neither here nor there.

So he gave in and sat down, awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to react at what was about to happen.

Zuko knelt in front of him, which was already an image that made Sokka’s head spin, and then he rolled up Sokka’s pant leg, making Sokka’s entire body tense in embarrassment. But he didn’t stop him. He was just relieved that Zuko was so concentrated on his knee that he wasn’t noticing how much Sokka was blushing.

Zuko did a small motion with his hand, and flames erupted from his palm. But he concentrated, his eyes narrowed, and the bright orange fire subsided into a snaking ring that began to spin, controlled and glowing. It almost…moved like water.

Zuko placed it above Sokka’s knee, enough so the warmth radiated across his skin but didn’t burn.

Sometimes Sokka couldn’t fathom it. That someone he used to hate, sometimes even fear, was now someone he trusted so completely he’d allow him to not only bend next to him, but use it to help him, now, when he was vulnerable.

The heat was intense. Not unpleasant, but intense. Almost like it was blocking out the pain as it radiated up his leg, settling in his chest.

He let out a sigh, slowly settling into the position as the tension seeped from his shoulders. He hadn’t felt this painless in…a long time.

“I…I never did say thank you,” Zuko murmured. Zuko’s lashes were long, eyes downcast as he worked the flames under his hands. “For earlier.”

“You better not be doing this because you feel guilty,” he said. “Because I’ve saved your life about a hundred times by now. With that logic, you’ll be doing me favors until we’re both old men.”

Zuko chuckled. It was a low, good sound. A sound that made Sokka feel like he won a prize every time he earned it. A sound that made Sokka want to drop everything else and just focus on making Zuko smile.

“Gladly,” Zuko said with a low smile. “I’d do pretty much anything for you, Sokka.”

Sokka stilled, everything else fading from his view as he met Zuko’s golden eyes.

“But I’m not doing this out of guilt,” he continued. The heat pressed on, and the pain was gone from his mind. “I’m doing this so you don’t stubbornly give yourself chronic pain. Because I care about your knee,” he said. The flames dimmed, but his hand still glowed, and he slowly placed his palm against his knee. Sokka could feel the heat, and his heart was squeezing in his chest—

“And I care about you.”

His hand was still there. It was a marvel that Sokka’s brain was still functioning enough to form the thought that Zuko’s hand was on his knee as he stared up at him, saying that he cared about him.

Now. He should tell him he loves him now, right now, before he lost his nerve, again—

“Zuko, I…”

“We should get back,” Zuko said with a breeziness that Aang would have been proud of, and Sokka felt a rush of cold air as Zuko’s hand left him. Zuko stood, brushing himself off.

Sokka’s stomach dropped with a mixture of alarm and disappointment as the moment went up in smoke before his eyes. “Thanks,” he managed to blurt out.

“No problem,” he said. “Just one of the hundred of favors I owe you, right?”

“Right,” Sokka said in a faint voice. He let out a nervous, bubbling laugh. “We’ll have to grow old together just so you have time to make it all even.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.” Zuko smiled warmly. Of course it was warm. Everything about Zuko was warm.

Spirits. This would be the death of him, wouldn’t it? Loving this man who was so dense he would never catch onto any of Sokka’s flirting, and being so helplessly and terrifyingly in love he’d rather take an arrow to the heart than risk ruining their friendship? Was this just his fate now?

He stood, and subsequently staggered, his legs wobbly from a reason completely different than the pain from earlier, but Zuko steadied him. His warm hands holding his arm, the other on the small of his back, and he was so close that Sokka could smell the scent of smoke that followed him.

“You good?” Zuko’s voice was tinged with concern, sparking in his ear. “Is it still in pain?”

“No,” Sokka said quickly. “Just getting…used to it. It feels better. It feels great. I-I can’t wait for you to do it again.” Please.

Zuko blinked, some unreadable shock in his eyes at the words that had just tumbled from Sokka’s mouth, but his smile twitched onto his face. “I’m glad it worked,” he said. “And I can carry you. If it helps.”

Sokka’s face lit up in a blush and he smacked Zuko’s chest. “I do not need you to carry me.” I certainly couldn’t handle you carrying me. “Just…this. This is enough.”

Zuko readjusted, allowing Sokka to hold onto his forearm, the two slowly making their way back to camp. The pain from his knee was distant as he talked to Zuko about the earlier battles, relishing in ever laugh that he got.

Yeah.

This would be enough.

#zukka fic #zukka fanfic #zukka #myfic #me: let me just write this exact same scenario but a little to the left #kdjsdfk #chronic pain cw

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airaibunny · 9 months

Text

dom!yujin x sub!fem!reader - “more than studying” (warnings: smut, first time/inexperience, high school AU, praise, scissoring, breast play, begging)

a/n: requested! omg i’m sorry about the length, i just started writing shit and i didn’t realize how long it was. it wasn’t gonna be an au at first, but i decided against that. i know i’m trying a lot of firsts lately, but this is my first time writing an au, i ask u guys to please give me feedback as per usual. but um, ig hopefully i didn’t fuck it up that much

word count: 3.3k

everybody knows who ahn yujin is. she’s your high school’s “it” girl. you’re not exactly her friend, you don’t even know if she knows who you are. despite this, you can’t help but be completely captivated with her, but not in the way you should be.

all of the other girls look at her with envy. they swarm around her like bugs, they all want to be in her place. on the contrary, you look at her completely enamored. you have memorized every feature on her face, even if you’ve never gotten an up close look at them. the things you think about while looking at her are criminal, but you can’t stop yourself.

if only she’d give you the time of day. you often daydream about her asking you to hang out, or flat out kissing you in the middle of the hallway. but she’s never acknowledged you in the slightest. you’d love to get close to her, but you’re much too sheepish to do so yourself.

her usual flock of friends run to greet her when she walks in the front door of the school. you watch from afar for a few seconds, but quickly run to class in fear of being late.

your grades are entirely too important to jeopardize them for one more meaningless look at yujin. you’re very intelligent, top of your class in fact. you don’t live up to the tv-nerd stereotype however; you’re very pretty. you don’t indulge in vanity though, you hate being the center of attention and don’t crave praise for your looks.

you hear the bell ring and impatiently await the teacher. first period is dreadful to sit through because you can’t stop looking at the clock in anticipation; the only class you have with yujin is the one right after this.

your teacher rushes into the classroom, apologizing for the delay. you quietly sit through today’s lecture, sometimes catching yourself thinking about yujin and not paying attention.

the bell finally rings and you bolt up from your spot, packing up erratically and speeding out the door. you walk down the hallway as fast as you can and into your second period classroom. you sit at your usual spot in the front, closest to the teacher.

you watch the door like a hawk, waiting for yujin to walk in. when she finally does, you abruptly turn away, not wanting her to see you looking her way. you think she’s just going to walk past you and go sit in the back like she routinely does, but you freeze when she sits right next to you.

fuck.

you can feel your heart skip at beat as she takes out her notebook. you’ve obviously been this close to her before, but never for an extended period of time.

“shit. do you have a pen?”

your eyes widen at the remark. you turn your head to look at her, shaking. “yeah, here you go.” you nervously smile, holding out your hand with your own pen. “is this the only one you have? i don’t want to take it if it is.” you pull out another pen from your pencil case and hold it up to show her. she smiles and takes the pen your previously offered.

you turn back to the front, trying to stay calm. that was the longest (and the only) conversation you’ve ever had with her.

“wait, you’re the really smart girl. y/n, right?” you turn back to face her, in shock that she’s still talking to you. “yes, i am.” you hide your hands in your lap in fear that she might notice how shaky you are. “please drop the honorifics, they’re really not necessary.”

you agree with a nod, but you’re squealing inside. the ahn yujin just asked you to speak to her informally. does this mean you’re friends?

she gives you a big grin and you give her one back. “your smile is so cute!” your breathing hitches, did she just compliment you?

“oh, thank you.” you practically whisper to her, too flustered to raise your voice. “of course!”

the bell rings and you’re left to think about your interaction in complete silence. paying attention is extraneously hard, how are you supposed to concentrate when she just complimented you?

you keep looking at her throughout the entire class, but you make sure it’s not noticiable.

you sigh to yourself a bit when it’s over, upset at having to leave yujin. you start packing, but you stop when she starts talking to you again.

“oh my god, did you understand all of that?” you nod, trying to seem cool about the situation even though you are most definitely freaking out internally. “ugh, how? you should tutor me, like, i’m 100% serious. i’m really close to failing this class and i don’t know how my parents will react if i do.”

you’re pretty sure you completely stop breathing. tutoring yujin would mean spending time with her, alone. could you really trust yourself to do that?

“um, i could…” she stands up and you’re forced to look up at her since you’re still sitting. you suddenly feel even more nervous than before. “oh my god! really? that’d be amazing. i don’t have any smart friends. you’re my first.”

she just called you her friend.

this didn’t exactly what you want to be, but it’s a step in the right direction. “oh, that’s great!” you smile again and she giggles. “yeah! how about we hang out after school? you can try to explain whatever it is that the teacher was saying, and then we can just talk if you want.” you nod while still smiling, but you try to dissimulate how truly ecstatic you are.

“okay, can we meet at your house?” you nod again. “let me put my number in your phone.” you immediately hand your phone to her. you can’t believe she’s giving you her number. you quietly watch as she makes a contact for herself and hands your phone back. she took a selfie for her contact picture and named herself “yujin-ah🩷”

“let’s meet up outside the school gates after school, okay?” you nod for the hundredth time and she waves goodbye at you. you sloppily pack up as you realize how much time you and yujin spent talking after class.

the rest of the day goes by dismally slow. you sit through every class tapping your pen on your desk and shaking your leg. you blankly stare at the clock during your last class of the day, anticipating every move of the handle.

when the bell finally rings you almost hurt yourself getting up. you stuff all of your things into your backpack, which is very out of character for you. you hurriedly run outside and to the school entrance. you stand there, looking in every direction to see if yujin was coming.

“hey y/n!” she somehow sneaks up behind you and startles you. “oh, sorry.”

“no, don’t apologize, it’s okay.” you smile at her and stop her from bowing. “well, do you want to get going?” you nod and start walking away in front of her, but she links her arm in yours. you continue walking, but you can feel your cheeks and ears getting hot.

“am i being to forward, is that why you won’t talk to me?” you harshly turn your head towards her and furrow your brows. “no! not at all, i just don’t talk to a lot of people.” she stays silent for a few seconds. “oh. well, you can talk to me freely, seriously.”

“oh, okay.” you surprisingly talk the entire way to your house, taking her up on her word. sometimes you think you’re being too much, but they way she’s attentively looking at you encourages you to go on.

when you finally arrive at your house, you lead her inside and lock the door behind you. “i forgot to tell you my parents are at work, we’re alone.”

“that’s fine, i don’t mind.” you take her to the living room and ask her if she can unpack both of your supplies from your backpacks while you get a snack. she nods and you disappear into the kitchen, finally letting it sink in that she is at your house.

you take a few minutes to compose yourself before going outside with a few apple slices and drinks.

“are you ready?” she asks, lifting her eyebrows. you nod and sit down beside her.

you explain the material to her for about two hours before she decides she’s ready to give up for the day. she follows through with your agreement and just talks to you for a while. you listen to her every word very attentively. you’re still in awe that she’s treating you like this.

“it’s getting dark, i should probably head home.” you help her pack up and walk her to the front door. you try just waving goodbye, but she gives you a hug. you hug her back, smiling to yourself. “we should do this again!”

“yeah!”

and you did. you and yujin met up almost every day for the next month. your amazement died down after you got fully acquainted, but your crush has only grown stronger. now that you two are so close, you feel more immersed in her than ever. you’ve had to stop yourself from kissing her multiple times, and you can barely look at her without a vulgar thought popping into your head. will you ever be able to tell her?

“are your parents home?” she asks when she meets you at your usual spot outside the school. “yeah, they are.” you nod along with your sentence, curious about why she’d ask that. “can we go to my house today?” you find her second question stranger than the first, but you agree with her nonetheless. “awesome, let’s go.”

this is your first time going to yujin’s house. you wonder why she chose today, and if your parents being home influenced her decision. you brush it off, thinking she just feels like being alone.

she’s very quiet on the way to her house which is usually not how she acts. you’re both normally loudly laughing and making silly remarks on your walks after school. why is she acting so strange?

you get to her house and she pushes you inside, making you stumble a bit. you shoot her a ‘what the fuck’ look, but she’s facing away from you and locking the door.

“lets go upstairs.” she takes your hand and drags you up the stairs, not letting you respond. “where are your parents?” she doesn’t bother to look back at you.

“not here.”

a sudden thought pops into your head. the fact that she asked to go to her house because she knew her parents weren’t home is strange, what does she want to do? it can’t possibly be what you’re thinking. she just thinks of you as a friend, there’s absolutely no way.

she shoves you inside her room and turns around to lock that door as well. you giggle in confusion and somewhat fear. “are we doing some top secret studying, what’s going on?”

she drops her backpack on the floor and walks up to you to do the same to yours.

“we’re not studying, but it is top secret.”

with that, she grabs your face and crashes her lips into yours without a warning.

your mind stops working for a second and you just let yourself melt into the kiss. her lips feel infinitely better than you imagined. they’re smooth and pillowy, you can’t help but imagine how they’d feel elsewhere. you part your lips, allowing her to push her tongue inside your mouth. you try fighting her for dominance with your own, but she ultimately wins.

you can feel the slick running onto your underwear just from kissing her.

she only pulls away when you’re both gasping for air. “is this okay?” you respond by smiling and pulling her back in, wrapping your arms around her neck. “you’re so pretty. can you smile for me again?” you comply and she looks down at your shirt, slightly tugging at it.

“can i take this off?” you shamelessly nod and help her pull your shirt over your head. her hands land on your waist, pulling you closer to her. “have you ever done this before?” she brings her lips to your neck. “no…” she stops to look at you with a sickeningly sweet smile. “okay, i’ll be very gentle.”

she plants a kiss on your forehead and goes back to your neck. she leaves sloppy kisses and bruises all over it, earning soft moans from you. one of her hands moves to your back and unclasps your bra. you let it fall, but cover yourself with your hands.

“don’t cover up pretty girl, let me see.” she moves your arms out of the way and stares at your chest. your face turns red with embarrassment and she immediately notices. “don’t worry, there’s no need to be shy.”

she takes one of your breasts into her hand and pulls you in for another kiss with the other. you moan at the sensation of her hand on your tits, but also at the puddle forming on your underwear. you become hyperaware of the fact that she’s still fully clothed and whine out in frustration while pulling at her shirt.

“yujin-ah…” she quickly catches on to what you want and practically rips her shirt off. she lets you take off her bra and throws it on the ground. you stand frozen for a second, not knowing what to do next.

“do you want to touch?” you nod, but hesitate to bring your hands forward. she rolls her eyes with a smile and grabs them, placing them directly on top of her breasts. your face turns scorching once more, which earns another giggle from her.

“do you need me to guide you?” you nod again and she brings her hands to yours, making you caress her breasts. you let it happen, completely astounded at the fact that this is happening. you’re enjoying getting to touch her, but it’s just making you focus more on the wetness growing between your legs.

luckily, yujin notices how squirmy you’re being. “do you want to move on?” you respond to her verbally this time. “yes, please.” you see that same provocative smile spread across her lips, so you make an mental note of your response.

she unzips her skirt and lets it fall to the ground. she does the same to her underwear and you nearly faint. you’re completely sure you’re awake, but this still feels unreal. you watch the sway of her hips as she walks to the bed and sits down, beckoning you closer. you comply and walk in front of her.

she places her hands at either sides of your shorts and slightly tugs them down. “is this okay?” she pauses for a second but you give her your consent to keep going. she pulls your shorts and underwear off, leaving you completely bare. she holds onto your thighs and leans in to plant a soft kiss on your abdomen while looking up at you.

you twitch at the feeling of her lips and gasp a bit. she chuckles to herself and pulls you onto her lap. “i love making you so flustered, it’s so cute.” she leans in for another peck on the lips before moving on to your neck once again.

she uses one of her hands to massage your thigh and the other to do the same to your breasts. she continues marking you for a few minutes, making you whine out with her every move.

the hand on your thigh moves further up, stopping to ask you for permission. “can i touch you?” you remember her reaction to your previous response and answer in the same way. “mhm, please, yujin-ah.” she doesn’t need to hear another word before she brings her fingers to your core.

you let a loud moan escape your lips and hold on to her shoulders. you hear her breathing get shaky and wonder what’s wrong.

“you’re fucking soaked.”

your state is clearly eliciting a physical reaction from her because her hand feels shaky. “are you sure you want to keep going?” you whine in annoyance again and lift her face up to your own to give her a kiss.

“stop asking, please just go. ruin me, please.”

you don’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but yujin seems pleasantly surprised. “okay pretty girl, whatever you want.” she begins rubbing small circles on your clit and you immediately become a mess.

her lips land on your breasts, she sucks on them, leaving more red marks everywhere. you push her head farther into you, earning small laughs and witty remarks.

you feel a paralyzing knot building in your stomach and tighten your grip on yujin’s hair. her fingers speed up, sensing that you’re on the edge. her agility is impressive, you’re amazed that she’s not tired.

“yujin…” you whimper, causing her to detach from your chest and plant a kiss on your lips. “it’s okay. i’ve got you, go ahead.”

you feel the pressure release as soon as she finishes her sentence. you instinctively bury your face into her neck as your hips stagger to a stop. she keeps her fingers pressed against your clit, gradually slowing until you’re completely done.

“you were amazing, princess.” she strokes your hair, letting you calm down and regain your normal breathing pattern.

once you’re back to normal, she moves you out of her lap and onto the bed. she’s pushes you, making you fall on your back. she positions herself on top of you and bends down to kiss you.

“can you lift your leg for me?” you oblige without thinking about it, your mind is so foggy, you’d do anything she asked you for. “good job, you’re so good at following directions.” you feel the familiar heat return to your core with that sentence and become immediately impatient.

she brings one of her legs over yours which leaves her core hovering over your own. you think she’s going to let her hips fall, but she brings her face to your breasts again, continuing to tease you.

“yujin, no teasing. please, just sit.”

you push her face away from your chest to look at her in the eyes. she licks her lips and chuckles down at you. “you’re such a needy girl. you’re lucky i don’t feel like being mean.”

you mutter another ‘please’ at her and she finally gives you what you want. your hips jerk forward as soon as you come in contact with her core, which earns a small moan form her. you take her breasts in your hands without thinking about it, playing with them exactly like she showed you earlier.

her hips move at a steady pace. your legs twitch a bit every time her clit brushes against yours. you’re both extremely loud, you’re very thankful her parents aren’t home. she looks absolutely heavenly on top of you. you can feel yourself inching closer to the edge every time her eyes meet yours and she shoots you a smirk.

she leans back, resting on her hands. your own hands leave her breasts and go to her thighs. she speeds up and her pace becomes erratic.

you think she might cum first, but you suddenly feel a wave of ecstasy wash over you. you dig your nails into her thigh, causing her to whine out. she keeps the same sporadic pace going for a few seconds until she finishes as well.

you can feel her juices leaking out onto your folds and mixing with your own. her bangs are stuck to her forehead with sweat and the air around you feels thick. you’re both gasping as yujin halts her movements.

“did you like that?” she leans down to kiss you and whispers against your lips. “mhm.” you smile at her. “i love your smile so much.” she drags her thumb across your bottom lip and looks down at your chest. her eyes widen when she finally sees what she did.

“sorry i left so many marks.”

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