#even in this semi-AU where she’s 18

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

luxury & lingerie. a retail au

“𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤.”

ᰔ pairing. retail au - rolex salesman gojo x victoria's secret associate reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo is the rolex watch shop's pretty boy & you're the victoria's secret lingerie store's new hire that works across from him. let's just say he's determined to get inside your pants.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, porn with plot (seriously that's all it is), smut, casual sex, possibly comedic, lots of terrible flirting, tiny bit of fluff if you squint, gojo's got a daddy kink that you really have no interest in entertaining, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, blowjobs, oral sex, praise kink, some degradation, sort of cum play, banter, suguru & choso are in it too (the hot-boy sales trio)

ᰔ word count. 6.5k

a/n. hellooo this started with this concept idea i had of hot retail worker gojo who just wants to flirt with you instead of actually do his job lmfao. this was seriously just a stream of my consciousness. hope you enjoy! and thanks to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this. creds to @quinnyundertow for the sephora lipstick idea.

The sound of Suguru’s voice was the last thing going through Gojo’s mind right now.

“Anyways, I put the car in reverse, she’s on aux. I’m thinking, she’s gotta have good taste, right? She’s the one that suggested the Maneskin concert in the first place. But you know what she starts playing? Country music. Fucking country music. And I’m not necessarily opposed to a good— dude, are you even listening?”

Choso leans over the polished display case of the mens’ latest Rolex models, staring at the two idiots in front of him. “No, he’s not. He’s been ogling the tits on that mannequin over there for the past five minutes.”

Gojo finally blinks out of his trance, irritated. “I’m not staring at the mannequin, I’m staring at—”

You. New hire. Over at the Victoria’s Secret that was across from his turf at the mall. You were standing on your tiptoes on a mini ladder, wobbling a little, reaching up for a mannequin at the display window to switch out the corny yellow sleeping mask on its face for one that was a more sleek, satin blue. 

The fabric of your uniform slid up slightly, skin of your midriff exposed, and he has to suck a breath in through his teeth.

“I called dibs on that a week ago,” Suguru says from where he stood, lazily leaning on the counter.

“No fucking way. I’ve got dibs.”

“Dibs? Really? I work with a bunch of prepubescents,” Choso groans, tipping his head back to stare up at fluorescent mall lighting.

Suguru’s voice sounds like he’s lax at the jaw. “Is anyone gonna tell her that’s the ladder they use to prop the door open, and not the one to flash Satoru’s horny ass while changing out a mannequin?” 

“I’ll be the one to tell her,” Gojo says.

At the display window, you slowly peel the panties off of the mannequin without a thought in the world to use the store’s modesty curtain, and Gojo, Suguru & Choso are all staring. And probably every other man within the store’s radius.

“Holy fuck,” Gojo says, strained.

“Holy fuck, indeed,” Suguru marvels.

“She’s clueless,” Choso sighs.

“You can have the mannequin, I get the girl,” Suguru offers, something just to get under Gojo’s skin.

“Shut up. I’m going over there.” He stands up onto his feet from the leather client chair he had been sprawled across up until this point of his shift.

“Can’t wait for you to royally fuck this up,” Choso muses with a smirk, arms crossing at his chest.

Gojo grumbles something under his breath when he hears Suguru’s coo of agreement, and then he’s making his way across to the Victoria’s Secret entrance. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his black dress shirt, as if he expects the sight of the skin at his collarbone to have you seduced like a victorian man seeing a lady’s ankle for the first time.

He makes it through the welcoming glass doors that lead into the sultry & dark ambience that you would expect of a lingerie store, and he rounds to the right, stopping a few feet away from you.

You were combing through a rack now, lips pursed in concentration until he clears his throat.

Glancing over, your shoulders tense and you pull your retail headset earpiece down, leaving it hanging by the wire that was clipped to the neckline of your shirt. His eyes flicker to the nametag pinned above the curve of your breast. You look at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hi sir. How can I help you?”

“Oh, no, I’m not a customer,” Gojo quickly corrects you, although he liked the sound of sir from your lips, “I work over there.” He points with a jerk of his chin towards the obnoxiously gaudy exterior of the Rolex watch store facing the two of you.

You blink at him. “Ah, I see.”

“You new here?” Gojo asks, taking a step forward and resting his elbow up on the metal bar of the rack just to get more into your space. “Haven’t seen you around.”

The corner of your lip turns up slightly at his words. “Why? Do you keep a roster?”

“I—no, not really,” he responds, already a little speechless, “wait, a roster of what?” He’d say he does if it’s a roster of pretty girls he’s been fantasizing about tit-fucking all day long, with you being at the top—no, the only one—on that list.

You shrug a little. It’s kind of meek and cute. “Of new hires?”

He breathes in deep. “Yes. Yes, I do. I just like to make sure the newbies feel welcome around here. Y’know, taken care of.” 

You smile, turn to face him and relax your posture. “Oh. That’s sweet. Yeah, I feel pretty welcome here, thanks.”

“That’s good.”

“I mean, everyone’s been really nice to me so far.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, and I really like the break room on this floor. The last place I worked at didn’t have a toaster oven.”

“No way.”

“I wish the clock-in machine was easier to use though…”

“For sure.”

You glance at him suspiciously in the middle of your rant. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re real pretty, angel.”

Your brow raises, the keys hooked to the loop of your jeans jingling as you place a curled hand to your hip. “Angel? Really? Cause of— cause of Victoria’s Secret angels?”

Gojo’s stiff, his elbow still resting on the cool metal pole, and he glances up at the ceiling before looking back down at you. “Uhh…sure? Yes.”

“That’s not very original.”

“Man, you’re really making me work hard for this. Unfortunately, that only makes me want you more.” He leans down closer to you, to catch the scent on your skin, and he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks round as you narrow your eyes at him.

“This is you working hard for it? You haven’t even told me your name yet, watch boy.”

He sees your fingers wrap around the cold metal bar of the rack, and he tries hard not to picture them wrapped around something else, but to no avail. You jut your hip out to bump him, pushing him out of your way, before you start rolling the rack down the store.

He trails behind you. “My name. It’s Satoru. But to you, I can be dadd-”

You stop in your tracks, turning around to face him with a scowl, but he was too distracted by the shape of your backside to be reflexive enough to stop himself in time, and he ends up crashing right into you. The momentum has you falling back with a gasp, tripping over the foot of the rack, and his arm flies around your waist to keep you upright, and then pressed up against him too just for good measure.

His face is just inches away from yours. “Shit. Sorry.”

Your arms are squished between his chest and yours, pinky tickling the skin at his collarbone, and the contact has him reeling. “I-It’s fine,” you say, lashes fluttering, “now let go of me, before I file a harassment complaint.”

He instantly retreats, releasing you, watching you stumble a bit before gaining your balance again. “God, no, please,” he sighs, “I really need this job.”

“You don’t act like it,” you mumble. You fix your hair in front of him and tuck the fabric of your shirt that came loose back into your jeans. He doesn’t have to touch your cheeks to know they feel hot, he can tell from the purse of your lips and the way you won’t make eye contact with him. 

The voices of a couple women are heard from down the aisle, as well as the plastic clinking of hangers on racks as they peruse the sheer bralettes dangling in color-coded fashion. Gojo sees you struggling to pull the rack you were working with away to the side to let them through, and he comes up behind you, gripping the metal bar to do it for you. He catches the fragrance of your hair at the crown of your head, and he inhales slowly.

The women walk by, throwing a few curious glances at the two of you, and Gojo doesn’t move from where he’s holding onto the rack and has his arm pressed against yours, his only lifeline to find some reason to touch you right now.

You start pushing the rack forward again, and he continues to follow you, keeping a more respectful following distance this time. He’s distracted by the pair of crotchless panties hung over your shoulder. He picks them up by the string. “Who the fuck actually wears these?” he asks, dangling them in front of his face and turning them around in the air to inspect it.

Your eyes are set forward for your destination. “Middle-aged women that are desperate to seduce their husbands before those men ride the high of buying a $100k watch by fucking a twenty-something-year-old instead.” You snatch the pair from his hand. “I’m rooting for those women. The men at your Rolex store? Not so much.” 

He’s on your heel until you round to a smaller section of the store, wheeling the rack over to a corner near the collection of lace panties sprinkled across cubbies under dim purple lighting. He glances over his shoulder and takes note that this area’s tucked away from the eyesights of the cash registers and storefront. 

He hears you sigh, then say “Why are you following me?”

He meanders closer to you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks. “Because…y’know, like I said, I wanna make the new hire feel settled in.”

“I literally feel so very unsettled by you right now,” you say to him with a wry expression as you start sorting through lace underwear, referencing some chart in your hand to get it right.

He walks up to you and peers over your shoulder at the illustration, and notices the way you stiffen a bit but also lean back into him. “Huh…so the cheeky panties go in the left top & bottom cubes. And they’re the ones with medium coverage and…” he squints his eyes at the chart, dim lighting doing him no favors, “and they have an alarming fit.”

You scoff through your nose. “It says alluring fit. Can you read?” 

“I— shut up. Yes I can read.”

You twirl around to face him, a hint of an amused smile to your lips. His eyes widen a bit at the sight of it, until he registers it’s a cheeky one, like those panties.

“Watch boy is illiterate. Must be why you still work in retail.”

“Yes, keep being mean to me, new hire. It’s hot,” he groans, hands still in his pockets as he leans towards you. You don’t shy away, just keep on looking up at him in this little corner he has you in, a twinkle in your pupils now that he wasn’t seeing earlier. 

He’s surprised when your finger hooks the fabric in between two of the buttons on his shirt. You play with the material, pinching it, but never tug on it. “What’s a grown ass man like yourself doing still working for commission at a mall?” 

“Okay, ouch, a little too mean,” he backtracks, watching your tongue briefly swipe across your lip, “let’s be a bit nicer.”

Now you’re tugging on the fabric, hooked finger pulling him closer to you until his hands have to fly out of his pockets and his palms press against the wall, caging you into it. “Illiterate and can’t take a dig. Pick a struggle,” you say to him with a sweet look up.

He’s getting the sense that you’re into him too. He grabs hold of your waist, thumbs rubbing your torso over the fabric of your uniform just to get a feel. “Well,” he starts, bringing your hips forward to his, pressing the erection he was building against you, “this illiterate retail worker could fuck you real good if you’d just give him the chance.”

A small gasp leaves your lips, eyes widening and you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth. Fuck, he wants to kiss you. Wants to be the one biting your lip right now. Your hand grabs his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin left exposed by his rolled up sleeve. “It’s…It’s real well, watch boy. You’d fuck me real well.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I’ll fuck you real well,” he tells you, as his head tips towards your cheek, lips brushing against it. It was just a tease, so he pulls away but still looks down at you in closeness. There’s voices around the corner, but he doesn’t really care.

“You’re awfully forward,” you breathe out, and he almost goes insane at the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he can’t help but jerk his hips forward a bit. 

“Y’know what? Fuck it,” he grumbles, pulling the rack across behind him so he’s created a covered haven for the two of you against this wall, and then he kisses you.

There’s a yelp that he muffles from you as his lips move against yours, slow, because you're new to him and he wants to savor it. His hand finds the small of your back, spreads across it, pushing you to arch towards him, and his teeth catch your bottom lip when he feels your breasts press against him. You’re pliant, opening your mouth for him, and he takes up the offer to taste you. Soft & warm pressed up against him, a subtle sweetness on your tongue, and he only pulls away because you squeeze his shoulder hard.

You’re breathing fast, cheeks shy, a little cutely cross-eyed from his proximity when you look up at him. “I-…okay, I’m a little mad that you’re a good kisser.”

He hums, tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly and you grip the collar of his shirt to keep him close. “I’ll kiss you nice in a lot of other places too.”

It doesn’t really take much convincing after that.

“Oh…oh my god—,” you mewl, back against the mirror of one of this fine lingerie establishment’s fitting room stalls, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you raw with the aim to please.

“Shit, knew you’d be tight,” he groans, pressing a kiss to your jaw when you tip your head back in pleasure, throat loose with a moan, “pretty little new hire. Just had to break you in.”

“S-Satoru,” you moan through a breath, the sound of his name on your tongue having his cock twitch inside your walls, mixed with the pain of the grip you had on the hair at the back of his head. 

He has your shirt bunched up along with your bra, tits exposed for him. His head dips to pull a nipple through his teeth as he feeds you with a few slow, deep thrusts, and his eye catches the earpiece of your headset, still clipped to your shirt, bouncing around with every one of his movements inside you. “Really hope that thing’s off,” he mumbles against your skin, “but if it excites you to have it on, I—fuck, I wouldn’t really mind either way.”

Your hand flies to his bicep when he runs his thumb over your clit, legs wrapping around him even tighter. “More. Need more,” you say, head in a haze, and he really could’ve cum inside you right then and there but he holds out to enjoy some more time buried in the warm pleasure of your cunt.

“If you want something from me,” he grunts between thrusts, “you’re gonna have to beg me for it, love.”

“Fuck me harder,” you cry, eyes shut closed, and he almost feels sorry for you.

“That’s a demand,” he informs, pinching the flesh of your ass and enjoying the way you clench around him from the action, “I told you to beg.”

“Please, oh my god, please—,” you start, moving your hips against his now, and he hears the lewd sound of your flesh slapping more fervently against the mirror. “Please fuck me harder.”

“Good girl. Pretty girl,” he praises you, thumb finding your clit again as a reward, “see what you get for being so nice to me now.”

He bucks his hips harder, your arms wrapping around his neck in desperation, chin resting at the top of his head as his lips fall to your neck, and he kisses, nibbles, sucks, anything to get that sweet taste in his mouth while he draws stars over your sensitive bud, eliciting broken whimpers from you over and over again. 

“Gonna let me cum inside?” he asks, feeling his balls jump at just the thought of filling you up, his thighs feeling hot from the anticipation of you giving him the permission. “All that shit talk earlier about me being a dumb mall worker, but you’d still let me finish in you, right?” His hips stutter slightly, vision starting to blur, and he feels your walls flutter tightly too, “cause I bet it turns you on that you’re letting this dumb retail man fuck you senseless in a flimsy little fitting room right now, regardless.”

“Satoru, please,” you’re begging, the crack in your voice hoarse like you’re about to cry from the pleasure.

“Answer me,” he demands, retreating the thumb that was toying with your clit. He pulls one of your arms from where it was wrapped around his neck to pin your wrist to the mirror. “You want me to cum inside you or not?” 

Your hips press so harshly against his that he hardly has any leeway to thrust anymore, and it makes him hiss in protest, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass to let up. “I want—mhh, I want you to cum inside me, please, please,” you plead, desperate, grinding your clit against the skin above his cock, above the place he was buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, the sweet words processing in his head, and he loses all sense of control, motions eager and desperate, chasing after his high and his thumb is barely considerate enough to chase after yours too as it rubs relentlessly over your puffed up clit. You shiver against him, walls clenching around his cock impossibly tight, legs wrapping around his waist possibly even tighter, and he feels every nerve as you come undone around him. The gripping sensation your orgasm had on him has him faltering with harsh thrusts forward, and he holds your hips flush to his as the first spurt of his cum spills into you, followed by more with repetitive juts of his hips until he’s emptied himself entirely into you, and you’re just pumped full of him.

You swat at his chest, squirming as he leaks the last drop from the tip of his dick, and he can tell you’re overstimulated.

“Sorry,” he says through a short exhale, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and he slowly pulls out of you, cock falling limp over his thigh, and he holds you until you find footing on the ground, albeit a bit wobbly. 

“Oh no,” you mewl, clenching your thighs together when you feel his cum starting to drip out, and he quickly bends down to hook your panties up back into place. You give him a pointed look. 

“What? The easiest clean-up is not letting it out,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him so he gets to feel the plushness of your bare breasts against him and he kisses the top of your head. “You’re real good, new hire. Or whatever the fucking proper way to say it is.”

He can tell you’re rolling your eyes even though your face is buried in his chest.

“You’re a dumbass,” you say, sounding muffled.

—

Gojo spends about 90% of his shifts meandering across the shimmering tile floors of the mall to the Victoria’s Secret, and only spends about 10% of them actually being a watch salesman. His boss was starting to get real fuckin’ fed up with him, threatening to fire him yesterday for the two-hour lunch break he took because he was eating you out in a storage closet, but he really couldn’t be bothered to care. He was an addict, and he needed to get his fix. Not before annoying the shit out of you, though.

“Alright, daddy’s home. Let’s get to it. I’m on my lunch break,” he says, walking right up to you in the middle of your shift while you’re folding slip dresses onto a display table, his hand reaching for your waist but you retreat from him.

“For that, get the fuck away from me.”

He sighs. “I’ve been wanting to touch you all day long. Do you purposefully walk your gorgeous self across the front of the store that many times just to tease the hell out of me? I’m suffering.”

“I walk across the storefront because I’m doing my job,” you mumble to him.

“No, I swear, you do it to—”

“Sweets,” one of your coworkers calls out to you from the other end of the store, the one with a pink buzzcut that acts kinda scary. “Is that man bothering you?” she asks through a smack of her gum, “want me to call security?”

“Yes.”

“What—”

After a couple of minutes of vindicating himself to mall security that he is not a threat to public safety, which you watch in amusement with no help at all, he’s shortly back at your side in a different section of the store to annoy you.

“When are you gonna wear one of these for me?” he asks, holding up a pair of jaguar-print panties. 

“Never,” you say to him, scanning the tags on the underwear in a box of new arrivals, “those are ugly.”

“Okay, how about these,” he says, pulling a pair out of the box. “They’re see-through. I like that.”

“No,” you say, snatching it out of his hand.

“Oh c’mon,” he groans, doing a quick glance over his shoulder to check if the coast is clear before taking a step forward, pulling you to him by a finger hooked through the belt hoop of your jeans. “I’ll buy them for you. Ring me up.”

You look up at him, hand placed on his chest but you weren’t pushing him away just yet. “Really? You’re gonna buy me panties from the store I literally work at? At least have the decency to shoplift them for me.”

He has a smile on his face when he leans down closer to you, both hands now playing with the loops of your jeans. “Ohhh you’re into criminals. Will you tackle me to the ground if I do?”

“Yes, to arrest you. Not to fuck you.”

“Why not both?”

“Satoru,” you chastise him when you hear footsteps around the corner, and now you’re pushing him away and clearing your throat before busying yourself with the box again as a few customers walk by. Gojo shoves his hands in his pockets, and then his eyes widen a bit when his knuckles hit something.

“Oh yeah,” he says, “I got you this.” He pulls out a small, shimmering black tube and holds it out to you with an up facing palm. 

You lean forward to glance at it. “Is that…lipstick?”

“Yeah,” he says, “the lady outside Sephora was giving out samples.”

You cross your arms at your chest. “The lady outside Sephora was giving out free samples of lipstick to you?”

“Can you just take it already? My arm’s starting to hurt.”

You swipe it from him and inspect it. Popping the cap open, you twist the cheap plastic adjuster so that the tip of the wax peaks out. It was a deep shade of red. “Did she try to talk to you?”

“Uhh, yeah. Something about how this new formula is smudge-proof or something. Was hoping we could test that out.”

You roll your eyes. “She probably wanted to test that out. With you.”

“What, are you jealous?” 

“Not really, no,” you say and hand the lipstick back to him. He looks at you puzzled. “Lipstick isn’t really for me, sorry.” 

“I literally saw you wear some the other day. That’s what gave me the idea,” he says, “of turning my dick into the shade of your lipstick.”

“Could you be any louder?” you hiss at him, glancing at a coworker who could’ve potentially been in earshot.

He shrugs and pinches the tube of lipstick between two of his fingers, holding it up between the two of you. “You sure you don’t wanna?”

Turns out you were not too opposed to the idea, but he had to earn it by making you cum a couple times in the janitor’s closet at the end of the floor. He likes having to earn the sight of you on your knees, it turned him on way more than he had expected.

“My jaw is so fucking sore,” he complains, opening and closing his mouth a few times to stretch it out, then runs a hand across his jawline. “You were a lot less sensitive today. Took way longer.”

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are,” you say, pulling the buckle of his belt loose, sitting back down onto your heels to get more comfortable while you undress him.

“Bullshit. Should’ve used that insult maybe the first or second time I gave you head. It’s too late now, after the filthy things you’ve said to me in your desperation to cum.”

He watches you flutter your lashes a few times, fingers stopping their movements, and you shift a little from where you were seated on the ground. You were aroused, but still committed to the attitude. “I don’t have to do this for you, you know.”

He shudders a little. “Wait, you seriously don’t want to? You don’t have to.”

You sigh. “You were supposed to demand me to do it anyways. Would’ve been hot.” You pull his belt loose and your thumb and index finger pinch the button open with ease. “You don’t wanna fuck me, though?”

“Of course I want to fuck you, I will always want to fuck you. But the last time we got rowdy in here, I almost killed you when I knocked the shelf over.” A chill runs down his spine. “Not taking any more chances.”

You giggle a little at the memory while zipping down the front, then your fingers dig into the fabric of both his slacks and his boxers, pulling them down until he’s sprung free, fully thick and hard, courtesy of the cute sounds you were making earlier while his tongue was playing with your clit.

“Are you not gonna put the lipstick on?” he asks.

“No.” You grab a hold of him mid-way, giving an experimental tug, and raise from your seated position onto your knees. 

“But—”

“I told you, lipstick isn’t my style,” you say, eyes flickering up to him when you kiss the tip. He sucks a breath in.

“Damn, okay. I was genuinely curious if it was smudge proof. The lady was really hyping it up,” he says and he sees your shoulders drop.

“Enough of the Sephora lady,” you mumble, pressing your lips against his tip again, but as less of a kiss.

There’s a sulk in your posture from where you look up at him on your knees. His heart does this weird thing where it aches a little, and he wants to get rid of the pout on your face with a few sweet words, but he settles for pushing the tip of his cock past your lips instead. Works all the same in the end. “Good girl,” he groans when you take him all the way to the back of your throat, and your fingernails dig into the skin of his thigh as you let out a muffled moan.

“Fuck…” He pulls his hips back slightly, allowing you to adjust, but when you swallow and his tip feels the roll of those muscles, he’s pushing into your mouth again. “C-Can you take more?”

You try your best to give him a nod and you bob your head once, tongue swiping over the vein that was throbbing the proof of his need for you right now. 

“I’ll finish fast, baby,” he tells you, voice husky, fingers combing through your hair gently, “just take it how I want it, and I promise I’ll be quick, okay?”

You nod again, thumb rubbing the skin near his groin in reassurance. You squirm a little and press your thighs together when he grips your hair tighter now, encouraging your head to bob up and down on him, and you do as he wants. Your cheeks hollow out, sucking on him, and he swears he’s already close to cumming.

“Yeah…fuck, yeah,” he grunts under his breath, “good. Just—just like that. You’re so good. Pretty girl,” he juts his hips forward to see if you can take it, and you do, “on her knees for me.”

Your throat vibrates with a moan, and he sees you squirm even more. You take him all the way in, to a place deeper than the back of your throat, so well without a gag but there’s a prickle of tears in your eyes, and he rubs your cheek softly while he feels the sweat collect at his temple. “Oh fuck, I’m— shit, baby. I’m close.”

You drag your lips across his length, retreating with a thorough hollow to your cheeks, and release him with a pop and your tongue stuck out connecting a string of your spit to his tip. Your hand immediately starts to rub him up and down as you look up, and the soft panting leaving your lips and fanning across his cock has him swallowing hard. “S-Sorry, needed a break.”

“That’s okay,” he says, swiping at some of the saliva pooled at the corner of your lip. “Take your time.”

You kiss his tip in acknowledgment, then take him in again, this time both hands working at the base as you bob up and down, more free with your moans and the sensation of them reverberating in the canal of your throat makes him grip your hair with both hands, desperate.

“Yes—fuck, yes,” he grunts, head tipping back and hitting the door. “Real close. Your mouth feels so good, you’re driving me insane.”

You suck on him, hard, taking him in to his favorite place that’s at the back of your throat, and when your hand reaches out to play with his balls, paired with the sensation of fast exhales through your nose onto the skin of his groin, his eyes close shut and strained and he’s jerking his hips forward to spill his cum down your throat. “Fuuuuck. Oh my god.” He exhales, watching you swallow over and over again as he pumps into your mouth, then he slowly pulls out when he feels that he’s done.

You sit back down on your heels, hands now neatly folded on your lap, looking up at him and his thumb prods at your bottom lip for you to open your mouth. You do as he wants, tongue hanging out in the process, and he sighs in satisfaction when he sees you’ve swallowed it all. “Beautiful, baby. Come here.”

With a hand wrapped around your arm, he gets you up on your feet and kisses you. You hold onto the fabric of his shirt for purchase, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “Doing okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod, tightening your grip on his shirt, “I liked it. Liked it when you said I was good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “More than good, angel. You’re perfect.”

—

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. You look like you could use a break,” Gojo says to you in Victoria’s Secret on a random Saturday morning. He usually always works on Saturday, but he’s never seen you here on a Saturday before. Apparently you were picking up extra shifts since you were going on vacation next week, something about a wedding in Spain. But you’d worked six consecutive shifts in a row, and the exhaustion was starting to show.

“I don’t know…your store scares me,” you respond back to him. You were behind the register, and he was pretending to buy forty-two pairs of panties just to talk to you.

“It’s not scary. I just want to show you around,” he says, standing up straight from where he had been leaning over the counter.

You eventually give in, toying with your name badge as you make your way around the counter to him, eyeing the smile on his face before he leads you through the aisles and eventually across the mall to the Rolex watch store.

It wasn’t horribly busy for a weekend, but there were still a few clients around. Choso was helping out a regular, a man who has bought four $200k watches within the past two months, and Choso’s been biting his nails worried he’s going to have to play witness in a tax evasion court case should that client eventually get caught by the IRS for fraud one of these days.

Suguru comes around the corner the second he sees you walk through the polished glass doors, and Gojo’s already annoyed.

“Hey, it’s the new hire,” he greets you, stretching his hand out and you accept it in a shake. “I’m Suguru.”

“Not really new here anymore,” you say to him after introducing yourself, “been here for a couple months now.”

“Oh really? Time flies. Thanks for all the shows, by the way,” he jerks his head off to the Victoria’s Secret store, “I’ve enjoyed watching the 101 ways you can remove a bra on a mannequin. Might have to incorporate some of them into my personal life.”

Gojo scoffs. “Yeah right, like a woman would let you within a hundred feet of her bra.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow with a sleazy smirk on his face, before leaning closer to you. “Should we prove him wrong about that, darling?”

Gojo hates the way he sees you blink your lashes at him and blush, so he’s grabbing your hand and walking you across the store, away from Suguru. He circles you around to the back near one of the display counters. Ladies’ new Datejust models, pretty classy and feminine. He walks to behind the counter, with you staying on the other side, like you were a genuine sale.

“See anything you like?” he asks, resting his elbow on the glass and peering down through it.

You blink at him. “Uh…of Rolex watches?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm…” you press your index finger to your chin and glance at a few. “I like that one.” You point with that same finger and he follows the line with his eyes.

“Hm,” he says, using his key to unlock the case, then slides the opening to the side to gently pull the watch out. “Oystersteel and yellow gold, 18 karat. Wanna try it on?”

“Sure.”

He releases the safety clasp, pulling apart the band, and slides it through your hand down to your wrist, then fastens the clasp until he hears a click. You immediately raise your wrist up into the air, twisting it to assess, and there’s a sparkle in your eyes.

“How much is it?” you ask.

“Thirty.”

“Thirty-what?”

“Thirty-thousand.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh my god. Get this thing off of me.”

He laughs and his hands find the clasp at your wrist, unfastening it and you’re trembling a bit as you shake it off before he catches it in his palm. “Not my fault you literally chose one of the most expensive watches we have in this section.”

“This is insane. How do people afford any of these?” you ask, feet wandering and now you’re clearly curious as you inspect the cases.

“We have more affordable watches available for lingerie store workers,” he tells you, clicking his tongue to get your attention and you turn around then follow him to the other end of the counter. He points at the glass. “These are all under three-thousand.”

“Oh…” you peer at them with interest, and he watches you. His eyes fall to your wrist.

“Here,” he says, sliding the display case door open, and pulls out another watch, “I think you’d look nice in this.”

He shows it to you for a second before releasing the clasp and holding onto your hand to slide the watch through it. After fastening it, he looks up at your expression, and his heart’s beating a bit faster. You turn your wrist in the air to marvel at the watch, and he thinks your eyes look stunning from the way the shimmer of the watch reflects off of them.

“Wow,” you say.

“I knew you’d look good in anything rose gold,” he says, both elbows on the counter as he watches you, “this one’s only a couple thousand.”

You’re still a little speechless as you look at it, right index finger tracing the dial. He wants to buy it for you. He could, it’s not much of an issue, he’d just have to kiss goodbye to that used gaming PC he’s been eyeing on craigslist for the past couple of months, but something in his gut tells him it’d be worth it. Something in the soft look in your eyes right now tells him it’d be worth it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“That it’s beautiful,” you say to him, swallowing and then extending your wrist out to him. “Sorry, wearing it for too long. Probably lost a few hundred bucks in value just from the two minutes it was on my wrist.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll buy it for you.”

Your mouth gapes. “W-What?”

“I mean—if you actually like it. Then, I don’t mind,” he says, suddenly a bit flustered.

“Satoru. That’s insane. This is a two-thousand dollar watch.”

He shrugs. “I know, but it looks good on you. I can’t shoplift this one for you, though. But I’ll buy it if you actually want it. And if you lie and say you don’t like it, just to be nice, I’ll read right through it. So be honest.”

“I…” you start, “I really can’t accept that.”

His eyes are level with yours, and something about your persistence in your refusal just makes him want to buy it for you even more. But he’s not gonna push it anymore. He’ll just try to work towards a day where you’ll accept it from him. Where it won’t even be a question to want to decorate you in something as pretty as you are.

“Alright. Then give it back, it’s probably only worth a couple hundred now.”

a/n. hope you enjoyed!! this was fun to write. it was supposed to be longer but i cut it short so maybe part two lol?? i also wanna write versions for choso & suguru in this au lol maybe like a multi in one verse kinda thing haha i like the idea of a hot watch salesman trio. thank you for reading 💕

taglist: @ohsehuniiee @lost-resonance @whereflowerswenttodie @horisdope @therealestpussyeater @satorminniett @tobaccosunbxrst @alekssashka7 @ritsatoru @angrychinchillanoises @shleepyking @crimsonmarabou @mxlktae @bloopsstuff @slut-4-gojo @lil-cinn @wateronlyhaha @strawberiicreme @wintertoru @mo0nforme @whispersofbeskar @who-can-touch-my-boob @quinnyundertow @ramluvr @anthastudios @sabokunsmalia @ninjaturtletoes @rylierev @dvarlinggg @heyitsmirae @sleepyyammy @lofasofabread @lolthatsnice @tetsuski @bakuhoethotski @sureconfused

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #anime #geto suguru #choso kamo #alternate universe #romance #smut #fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk smut #retail au #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader fluff #crack fic #humor #comedy #gojo x you #rolex #flirt #manga

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (M) (Pt. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Word Count: 44,416 (19K in part 2)

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora! Unfortunately, due to the new Tumblr text post limitations, this has to be published as multiple parts. THIS IS NOT THE START OF THE STORY. Please read Part 1 first, here.

Rating: 18+

NSFW Warnings: oral (F), multiple orgasms (F), fingering, sex in a semi-public area (brief), breast play, spanking, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, mention of toys

A/N: all collab fics incorporate the phrase, "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

A/N: This is not part 1. Read part 1 here.

“Jimin!” Hana cries, plowing into his legs. “Y/N! We’re skates!”

Lifting your brows, you crouch to boop her red pom-pom hat. “Of course, you are!” you say. When Hana runs off, you stand and lean closer. “Do you think she meant they have skates, or that we’re pretending to be them?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Jimin chuckles, taking your hand to cross the street.

You seem surprised but continue, falling into step alongside him. If pressed, Jimin could say he’s holding your hand because you’re around his family but truthfully, that’s not why. He’s holding your hand because he hasn’t touched you for twelve hours, crumbling something vital deep in his chest.

Jimin’s mom waves you over to where they’ve occupied several benches. “Welcome,” she says, gesturing to the group. “The girls picked out skates for everyone – correct sizes, of course.”

Stifling a laugh, Jimin looks at the skates. Of course, the twins picked them out since they’ve chosen only the most ridiculous concepts. Each year, a main Garland attraction is the infamous holiday ice skates. Imagine a Christmas staple, and there’s an ice skate for it. Snowmen skates wait for Jimin, complete with tiny carrot noses.

“How did you know my favorites,” you gasp, bending to reach for your candy cane skates.

“Cuz we’re smart!” Ari yells, wriggling free of Hoseok’s arms.

Jisoo grabs her by the waist, picking her up to sit down on a bench. Jimin takes you by the hand again, leading you to a semi-secluded bench. Glancing over your shoulder, you watch as he drags you away from his family.

“Sit,” Jimin demands, and your eyes widen.

Somewhat flustered, you obey. “Jimin,��� you hiss when he kneels before you. “No one is watching us. You don’t have to…”

He lifts a brow. “I don’t have to do anything, Y/N.”

You fall silent when he begins unlacing your boots, setting them aside on the cold ground. Jimin doesn’t miss the way you shiver when his hand curls around your ankle, nor the look on your face when he scoots even closer.

“Jimin…”

Flashing a wicked smile, he looks up. “Yes?”

A lump moves in your throat when you swallow. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Brows lifted, Jimin leans forward, pressing his shoulder against your inner knee. He begins tying the laces, taking his time to savor the closeness. By the time he’s finished, you’re glowering darkly.

“Up,” you demand, switching places.

Jimin shouldn’t be turned on by how easily you walk in skates, nor by the bossy edge to your voice as you kneel.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, your gaze burning. Placing both hands on his knees, you lean forward. “To tease me?”

“Tease you?” Jimin looks you up and down. “Right now, I feel like the victim here.”

Pushing yourself to stand, you nudge him with your foot. “You can put on your own skates, Park. Last I checked, you got paid to do this for a living.”

“Usually, they pay me to play in the skates. Not just look pretty.”

Your lips tilt. “Are you calling yourself pretty?”

Wordless, Jimin tosses his hair as he stands from the bench. Eyes wide, you realize your gaze drops to his skates, already tied. Leaning in, Jimin brushes your arm with his palm.

“That depends,” he says lowly. “What do you think?”

Your gaze focuses on him. “Your looks haven’t changed that much since September, Park.”

His eyes darken. “Stop calling me that.”

“What – Park?”

Brows lowered, Jimin steps closer. “You sound like you’re about to scold me.”

You snort. “Scold you? Who do you think I am?”

“Stop changing the subject.”

“What even is the subject?”

“What about my looks has changed since September?”

You pause to survey him. “You… well. Your hair,” you admit.

Uncertain, Jimin reaches up to touch it. “My hair?”

“Yeah.” You nod, transfixed by his fingers. “It’s longer. It–” Cutting yourself off, your lips press together. “It looks nice, that’s all.”

Jimin hovers a second, wishing you’d continue but the moment is interrupted by your names being called. Turning his head, he spots Jisoo and Hoseok stepping onto the ice. Hoseok has both of Ari’s hands, while Jisoo has Hana.

Heart dropping, Jimin pieces two and two together. When you arrived on Thursday, the oddest expression crossed over your face at the twins. And later, while making cookies, you often were silent. Jimin chalked this up to the strangeness of your arrangement, but only now realizes the full implication. Ari and Hana must remind you of the false pregnancy, and the events which came after.

On instinct, Jimin takes your hand again. You glance down, surprised, but Jimin is already walking, pulling you with.

Although you stumble a little, you follow. “How do you walk in these things every day?” you demand, gesturing vaguely.

“We usually wear them on ice, not the sidewalk.”

“Hilarious.”

Arriving at the rink, Jimin removes his skate guards and holds out a hand. Handing them off to his mom, Jimin opens the gate to step onto the ice.

For a moment, the world fades. This is the reason he plummeted when he wasn’t sure if he could skate again. This feeling, this rush of freedom – Jimin has felt it on the ice ever since he can remember. Your hand is grounding, keeping him steady through the inner turmoil. Taking a deep breath, Jimin pushes off on one skate to bring you with.

Across the rink, Hoseok and Jisoo lead their daughters around. Seeing them, Jimin can’t help but smile. Jisoo was raised on the rink and can skate circles around most of their friend group.

“They’re so cute,” you sigh, following his gaze.

“Who? Jisoo and Hoseok?”

“I mean, sure,” you laugh, eyes crinkling. “But I was talking about Hana and Ari. No matter what your dad says, Hana is definitely going pro.”

Jimin sees a moment of realization cross your face. A few months ago, the idea of his dad disapproving would have crippled him. Now, Jimin feels sad, but he knows he’ll get through it.

Tightening his grip, he moves closer. “Want to know a secret?” Jimin says, skating backwards to face you. Both your hands end in his, letting him pull you.

“Obviously.”

Jimin grins, spinning you in a circle. “I got her lessons for Christmas with my old teacher. Just for fun, but I think she’ll enjoy it.”

“She absolutely will,” you say, smiling so wide, Jimin’s heart hurts. “Speaking of…”

Turning his head, Jimin spots Hoseok skate past with Ari. They wave as they go, Ari’s scarf flapping in the wind.

“So slow!” Hoseok calls, as Ari laughs. “Seems like that NHL thing really was a fluke, Park…”

Jimin’s brows lower, enough that you laugh and let go of his hand. “Go on,” you tease, skating backwards. “Catch up to them.”

His gaze lingers on you as you leave, watching you glide across the rink with ease. Turning around, you weave between patrons as the ends of your scarf flutter behind you. Jimin remembers the first time he brought you home for the holidays. Until then, you’d given him nothing but a hard time with his hockey fame. Pretending not to know the rules, the players or even the sport – although he often caught you Googling what certain terms meant.

The first time you came home, Jimin’s parents were the ones who suggested ice skating. Jimin was hesitant, thinking you didn’t know how, but once you stepped onto the rink, his jaw dropped. Although you aren’t a professional, you took lessons as a kid and somehow maintained your graceful ease. Somewhat embarrassingly, that was the morning he caved and broke his no-sex-in-the-childhood-home rule.

Body tightening, Jimin locks in on you as you skate away. Similar to seeing you wearing a new cosplay, watching you skate circles is enough to draw blood to a very specific part of his body. Pushing off with one foot, Jimin starts slowly around the edge of the rink. Several heads turn, but he ignores them entirely. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice him watching and laugh, purposefully crouching to gain momentum.

Lips twitching, Jimin adopts a similar stance and goes faster. He barely outpaces his slowest round at practice, but that’s fine. To everyone else, Jimin is practically flying. As one of the shortest players in the NHL, Jimin makes up for what he lacks in stride with his speed. Offensive positions require agility, something which happens to be his main strength. Wind cuts his face as Jimin makes a turn that would send lesser skaters sprawling.

Leisurely, he approaches you from the opposite side. Glancing over your shoulder, you frown, losing visibility.

“Gotcha,” Jimin says, grabbing around your waist to speak in your ear.

You yelp, twisting around to avoid tangling skates. “No fair,” you laugh, still in his arms. “You’re a professional. You cheated!”

“Which one is it, princess?” he teases, prompting a startled breath.

Licking your lower lip, you glance sideways and Jimin feels his body lock. Continuing to skate with his arms wrapped around you, he can barely decipher his train of thought. You face forward quickly, but not fast enough – Jimin knows that look. Your pupils are dilated, eyes wide with lips slightly parted. That look connects with his lower half in a way that makes skating distinctly uncomfortable.

“You can’t call me that,” you say under your breath.

Despite this, your hand tightens in his, not letting him go.

Jimin leans closer. “Call you what?”

“Any name other than the one chosen at birth.”

“Oh, I see. So, if I say Y/N.” Jimin dips his tone. “That’s fine?”

He feels your shiver, sliding his thumb along the side of your palm, and–

“Y/N!”

You start, jerking upright when Hana skates by holding onto Jisoo. Jimin falls behind you, somewhat embarrassed he let things go so far. As much as he wants to call you princess and get you to admit that you want him – he wants more than simply desire. Something like that happening would only muddy the waters.

Ari skates past as well, begging you to join, which you do with a dutiful nod. Jimin watches you go, skating to the edge of the rink and stepping outside. Pulling on guards, he clomps towards the hot chocolate stand to buy you a cup. While he waits, a familiar hat sidles up alongside him.

“Hi, mom,” he says, smiling downward.

Jimin’s mom wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes. A lump forms in Jimin’s throat, one he manages to swallow. The past year has been hard, forcing tough conversations to be held over the phone. Worse than losing his health, Jimin felt that he lost the support of his family.

“You two looked good out there,” his mom says, moving up in line.

Jimin lifts a brow. His mom never says something she doesn’t mean – a fact that he envies. Bringing your relationship up means she has something to say.

“Thanks,” he says, waiting for the rest.

“I hope we didn’t make you or Y/N uncomfortable last night. You know the last thing your father and I want is to pressure you.”

Shaking his head, Jimin moves forward. “You didn’t – don’t worry.”

“Mm.” Her lips thin. “What were you doing, going out late with Hoseok?”

Jimin’s eyes widen. Shit. Exactly like his mom, to lead with something soft, then go for the kill. A hockey strategy Jimin has employed often, with great success.

“We… I, uh…”

His mom pats him on the arm. “Every couple has their difficulties, Jimin. I’m not going to pretend every obstacle is surmountable – only you can decide that – but running away will solve nothing.”

Stunned by her accuracy, Jimin shakes his head. “I thought she wanted space,” he admits. This much, at least, is true.

“Space is good,” she agrees. “But only when asked for.”

The couple before them in line finishes paying and leaves. Somewhat dazed, Jimin moves up and orders three hot chocolates. Stepping aside to wait, Jimin turns to face his mom.

“That’s good advice,” he says slowly.

“I know.” She smiles. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, though.”

Jimin lifts a brow. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

She laughs. “No,” she admits, linking arms. “I wanted to check in on you, dear. You’ve seemed a little… well, off lately. It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Jimin can hear her concern, the utmost care she’s taking in having this conversation. His heart aches, knowing she must have rehearsed this talk often. Truthfully, Jimin didn’t mean to pull away from his family. It became almost second nature to avoid having an argument.

“Well,” Jimin says. “This season has been tough. I wasn’t sure how it’d be… being back on the ice. And I didn’t think you or dad would want to hear about that.”

Gripping his elbow, his mom turns him to face her. Her gaze has turned serious, an indent between her brows. “Jimin. I always want to hear about your day. Okay?”

He blinks several times.

“I’m sorry,” she exhales. “I know I wasn’t… I was scared, seeing you so badly injured last year.”

Jimin presses his lips together. “I know.”

“But,” she adds, fierce light to her gaze. “That’s not an excuse for making you feel this way. Your career will always scare us, Jimin.” She holds up a hand at the look on his face. “No, I want to be truthful. Your career will always scare us, but darling, I’ve watched you skate since you were three years old. I see your face on the ice. I’m sorry for asking you to give that up. It was selfish.”

Something rent apart mends in his chest. Before Jimin can respond, three hot chocolates are placed on the counter. Smiling, his mom accepts one and hands him the rest.

“Don’t feel like you have to say anything back,” she chides, guiding him towards the rink. “I only wanted to make sure you knew.”

“No – no.” Jimin shakes his head. “I’m trying more often to express how I feel. Mom… the way you and dad acted hurt me. For a while, it felt like everyone in the world was against me, and I didn’t know how to convince them. Or myself.”

His mom blinks several times. “I understand that,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry, dear. I’m here for you, whatever you decide – I promise.”

“And dad?”

Lips twisting, she glances across the rink, where his dad sits on a bench. Not skating, simply watching Hana and Ari be towed around. Seeing this, Jimin understands what she means. His dad still has a long way to go.

“It’s okay, mom,” he murmurs.

She frowns. “No, it’s not. But he’ll come around, Jimin – I know it.”

“Yeah.” Releasing his breath, Jimin looks across the rink and catches your eye.

You grin widely, hand in hand with Ari as Jimin smiles. Something Dr. Nygard once said comes to mind. He told Jimin it was normal to want the attention of others, but it wasn’t healthy to shape one’s entire reality from it. For a long time, Jimin only believed he was good if other people said so. Only thought he could want something when other people agreed.

The moment you asked if you could take a break, all Jimin heard was you didn’t want him. Rather than stay and fight for what he believed in, he left and now, it’s up to him to convince you things are different. Being without you cast things in perspective. No – Jimin doesn’t need your approval to live the life he wants.

But the life he wants to live has you in it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring pain meds this weekend,” you huff, digging around in the endless void you call a purse.

Sheepish, Jimin shrugs. “My tailbone felt better. And then, I don’t know… sitting for hours on a flight didn’t help.”

Stunned, you glance upward. “You’ve been hurt since the flight, Jimin?” you ask, failing to keep your anger in check. “Why are you only telling me now?”

Amused, he crosses both arms. “Y/N,” Jimin tsks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you cared.”

Simultaneously annoyed and aroused, your gaze darts towards your purse. Yanking free a bottle of ibuprofen, you shake out two pills. “Here,” you insist, thrusting them forward. “Take these and be quiet.”

Partly, your dismay stems from this being your fault. Jimin mentioned he was injured outside the house, but you were too mad to hear and made him sleep on the couch. And now, you’ll be the reason for Chicago’s losing streak. You can already hear the disparaging Twitter comments.

“Be quiet.” Jimin accepts the pills to throw them back, dry. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You stare, horrified. “That’s disgusting.”

“You get used to it.”

“Nope,” you say as you turn away. “I don’t think I would.”

Jimin chuckles from behind, catching up when you push open the door to the shop. Once everyone had their fill of ice-skating, you went with Jimin’s family to a lovely place for lunch. Afterwards, everyone broke into pairs for late Christmas shopping. It seems everyone is missing one gift or another, resulting in a need for covert alliances. Jisoo went off with her mom, while Hoseok went off with their dad and the twins.

The fact that you ended up alone with Jimin hasn’t escaped you. Briefly, you wondered if Jimin’s mom was behind this to give you some privacy but banished the notion. If this were the case, she likely would have just said so. The thought makes your face heat as you enter the shop.

Things today have been… different when it comes to Jimin. First, there was his apology in the car and then, the whole skate-tying incident. Merely the memory makes you shiver, recalling the feel of his hand on your ankle. Not to mention his cryptic phrasing, insisting he should have stayed – last night. Or possibly more.

Frustrated, you glance around the stationary shop. For once, you wish Jimin would just say what he means. Then again, you suppose two can play at that game. You weren’t exactly honest when you asked for a break.

Covertly, you glance sideways and find Jimin’s cheeks reddened. Infuriatingly, he looks even better than the day before. Darkly, you wonder if he sold his soul to a witch or is involved in some sort of Dorian Gray situation.

Turning around, Jimin catches you staring. “What are you thinking?” he asks, moving closer.

Rather than fan his ego, you ask something that’s been bothering you the past hour. “I saw you talking to your mom at the hot chocolate stand. What was that about?”

Jimin stiffens slightly, and you stifle a sigh.

Six months prior, Jimin would have brushed aside the question. In the spring, when his arguments with his dad were at their worst, you tried to distract him, but nothing succeeded. Jimin didn’t want to talk about anything, but in every conversation, his mind was elsewhere. You shouldn’t be surprised this is still true but somehow, you hoped.

“Hockey,” Jimin answers, and your face jerks up. “My mom said she was always going to worry about me playing, but she apologized for asking me to give it up. I think…” He pauses. “She may have been giving me her blessing to re-sign? Not that I need it,” he adds, a bit thoughtful.

“Jimin,” you gasp. “That’s amazing!”

“I know, right?” He smiles. “There’s still my dad, but it means so much to me that she said that. And… I mean, I can’t wait around for them to approve of everything, can I? I need to do what’s best for myself.”

Slowly, you nod. “You do.”

He meets your gaze. “I wanted to thank you, actually.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah. You told me that, and I didn’t agree. I just… I wasn’t ready to hear it. In a way, when you left, it forced me to examine some hard truths about myself.”

Again, your heart sinks. You’re glad Jimin has his therapist and they’re helping to change his outlook. On the other hand, it sounds as though your leaving was an uptick in his life.

“Ah,” you say faintly. “I see.”

Jimin cocks his head. “When you said you wanted a break, all I heard was that the last person to believe in me no longer did. I know that’s not fair,” he adds, seeing your face. “But that’s how I felt. It was easier to fall, to hit rock bottom… than to pull myself out.”

You consider this – and him – for a long moment. In September, you really weren’t in a position to listen. The rapid elation and depression of thinking you were pregnant, coupled with fear from a year of anxiety, resulted in a potentially harmful reaction. Jimin deserved more than what you gave.

“I shouldn’t have come to you like that,” you say quietly. “It wasn’t fair of me to just… spring that on you without explanation. I should have asked you to talk. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you, thinking I wouldn’t listen.”

“Maybe,” you say. “If I could go back though, I’d do things differently.”

“Me, too.”

For a while, you stand there and let the words sink in. Frequently since the break-up, you imagined what it would be like to see Jimin again. You wondered if he’d be angry, whether he’d ignore you or cast blame for what happened. Rarely did you imagine he’d apologize, or that he’d taken steps to address what happened this fall.

And maybe that was another mistake you both made – assuming the other person couldn’t change or wouldn’t want to.

Then, another thought occurs that makes your heart sink. Jimin’s mom is fine with him extending his contract. The entire reason you came here was to lessen the difficulty of two pieces of bad news at once. With one in the open, it’s not necessary to continue the charade.

For a moment, you debate whether to say something and instead, you turn smoothly and pluck a card from the pile.

“Look at this one,” you say, holding it up to the light. “Do you think Ari would like it?”

Glancing at this, Jimin tilts his head. The card is covered in glitter, to the point where the pictures and words are rendered obsolete.

“I think it’s perfect,” he says with a laugh. “Look, there’s another glitter one for Hana.”

Selecting them both, you head for the cashier. Jimin diverts to check out a large stack of board games in the back for his uncle.

“You check out,” he says, waving you onward. “I’ll meet you at the register in a minute.”

“All right,” you say, turning away.

Bypassing the colorful pens near the register, you place both cards on the counter. “Can I have a bag?” you ask as they ring you up.

The cashier nods, setting to work and you drum your finger against the counter. Outside, it’s started snowing. You can’t help but smile since it never seems to stop snowing in Garland for long. Hopefully, everything will clear up for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve party. Jimin’s family never misses, barring illness or high water.

Behind you, the bells above the door chime.

“Y/N?” A familiar – deeply grating – makes you go stiff. “Is that you? Oh my gosh!”

Smile frozen, you slowly turn. Vivian Wu shuts the door with one hand, casually unwinding a red scarf from her neck. Her hair is luscious and sleek, billowing over her perfect pea coat. When she walks towards the register, you notice cashmere gloves and boots that seem untouched by the salt on the roads.

Continuing to force a smile, you nod. “Hi, Vivian,” you say. “Yep, it’s me. Y/N.”

Coming to a stop, Vivian tilts her head. As the daughter of the former mayor and a politician herself, she’s practically royalty in a small town like Garland. Vivian also happens to be Jimin’s ex-girlfriend, dating him for three years in high school before they broke up when he was drafted. A fact Vivian never really accepted.

Her smile turns simpering. “How nice to see you,” she says, her tone suggesting the opposite. “Are you visiting the Parks for the holidays?”

You nod, suddenly glad for the charade. “Jimin and I are only here for a few days, unfortunately. Are you attending the Christmas Eve party tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. The Parks are such a wonderful family. It’s a shame you only get to see them once a year.”

Although your stomach twists, you remind yourself it’s not worth it. Vivian only acts this way because she’s not dating Jimin – but then again, neither are you. Your heart sinks, realizing you might be looking at your future. Vivian will be thrilled to discover you’re no longer together. You never learned why she disliked you, only that she’s the only other girl Jimin dated seriously.

Your very first visit, you were introduced to her at the Christmas Eve party. Jimin warned you his ex-girlfriend would be there but failed to mention how beautiful – and vindictive – she was. Apparently, the break-up was Jimin’s idea and Vivian loathed having a total loss of control.

That night ended in a harried fight between you and Jimin, becoming the first time he ever said he loved you. Remembering that night, you can’t help but smile – a gesture that widens when Vivian scowls.

“It’s a shame,” you sigh. “I’m sure they appreciate having you looking out for them, though.”

Vivian sniffs, unable to find the insult. “Of course. Anything for Jimin. Speaking of” – she leans in, her Chanel perfume tickling your nose – “I’ve been watching his games and haven’t seen you lately? Is everything okay?”

You instantly stiffen. Despite what you told Jimin, you genuinely hadn’t thought many people would notice. Of course, Vivian did.

“No,” you say sweetly. “Just busy with work.”

“That’s a shame,” she says, her voice implying that, if it were her, Vivian would make herself available, no matter the cost.

You can’t help but bristle, though the scenario is moot. Neither of you are dating Jimin, so there’s nothing to compare. Still, even when you were together, Jimin never expected you to attend every game. That was his job, not yours, he would joke all the time. Both of you were adults with careers.

Tossing her hair, Vivian nods at your hand. “And I’m surprised, Y/N – no ring? Jisoo and Hoseok got engaged after what, two years? And you’ve been dating Jimin for…?”

“Four years,” you say stiffly.

“That’s right.” Her frown deepens. “Four.”

Your tongue is in danger of bleeding from how hard you bite. Vivian’s words have little to do with you, and more to do with the circumstances, but you can’t help but feel frustrated. And hurt.

Smoothly, an arm slides around your waist. “There you are,” murmurs Jimin, pulling you close. He brushes a kiss to your hair, glancing at Vivian. “You can blame that on me, Viv,” he says easily. “Haven’t found the perfect ring yet. None big enough. Or expensive enough.”

Your lips twitch. “Exactly,” you sigh, laying a hand on his chest. “He keeps proposing and I keep saying, ‘nope, try again.’”

Jimin chuckles, nuzzling into your hair. Vivian glances between you, looking vaguely nauseated. You can’t say you blame her.

“How nice,” she mutters.

“Anyways.” Glancing around, Jimin grabs your bag from the counter. “We really should get going. It was nice seeing you, Vivian.”

“You, too,” she huffs, brushing past to the board games.

As soon as she’s gone, your smile drops. “Thanks,” you exhale, slipping out from his arm. “I… well, I wasn’t sure what to say to her.”

Jimin catches you around the wrist.

You hesitate a long moment, then turn. Two days ago, the rules of the game were clear. No kissing with tongue. Jimin sleeps on the couch. And no need to pretend when no one else is around.

Gaze drifting upwards, you find yourself unable to decipher his expression. Slowly, Jimin pulls you closer to casually fix the scarf around your neck.

“Let’s head home, okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, not trusting yourself to respond to him with words. Outside, on the street, Jimin comes to a stop. Exhaling briskly, he turns sideways to face you.

“I just…”

Dropping your wrist, Jimin shoves a hand through his hair.

“Jimin, it’s okay,” you say, stepping closer. “I don’t blame how she acted – really. Being on the other side, like this…” Lamely, you shrug. “I guess I understand how Vivian feels. That’s all.”

Jimin stares at you, wide-eyed. You think that must be it, and attempt to walk past, but he grabs your wrist again.

“Y/N,” he says sternly. “You are nothing like Vivian. Okay?”

You blink, glancing down at his hand. That’s twice in two minutes he’s touched you like this. Gaze snapping upward, you frown.

“Am I?” you demand. Stepping closer, you stand nearly nose-to-nose. “We’re both your exes, Jimin. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to watch you parade someone else around town. God, just thinking about you with someone else drives me crazy. I’d be an asshole to future me, too.”

Dipping his head, Jimin inhales. “That’s not going to happen,” he murmurs into your ear. “I wouldn’t be worried about that, if I were you.”

“What does that –”

“Y/N! JIMIN!”

Adorable interruptions seem to be your curse this weekend. Tiny arms crush your knees as, looking down, you find Hana grinning.

Bending, you scoop her onto one hip. “What’s this?” you gasp when she hands you a bag. “Did you buy me a Christmas present all by yourself?”

“Mhm,” she says proudly. “We got you new gloves to wear when you watch Uncle Jimin play.”

Hoseok groans as he arrives. “Girls, that was supposed to be a secret. Remember? Y/N was going to unwrap the gloves on Christmas.”

Ari frowns, tugging on Hoseok’s coat. “But then the present would tell her, not us.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jisoo and her mom walk up behind you.

“What’d we miss?” Jisoo asks, taking Hana.

“Hoseok was explaining the concept of presents,” says Jimin.

“Oh, good. Any success?”

“No,” Hoseok grumbles.

Everyone laughs, and Jimin’s dad flips his keys. “Are we all set?” he asks. “I thought I’d make hot chocolate back at the house.”

“Yeahhh!” yell the twins, immediately taking off.

Snow starts to fall as you leave the town square. More holiday music plays on the drive, and you find yourself dutifully humming along. Despite what you said, there are several noticeable differences between you and Vivian. You might both be his exes, but Jimin only asked one of you home for Christmas.

And only one of you has the opportunity now to make things right.

By Saturday evening, Jimin regrets asking Hoseok for help. He might mean well, but Jimin’s brother-in-law is the least covert person on the face of the planet. Indeed, he’s done more to detract from Jimin’s goal than to add to it. All day, he’s tried to create alone time for you and Jimin with mixed results.

At dinner, Hoseok leaves a chair open next to Jimin – only for Ari to claim it. Afterwards, the family gathers to watch a movie and once again, Hoseok tries to set him up on the sofa. Unfortunately, Hoseok miscounts, and Jisoo is forced to squish between Jimin and the armrest. Little romance can happen sandwiched between you and his sister.

That’s not to say no romance, though. Ever since the stationary store, you seem to have forgotten your rule about physical contact. While watching the Grinch, you curl into Jimin’s side, holding his hand under a mountain of blankets. Jimin strokes his thumb over the back of your hand, trying and failing not to let his mind wander.

He can’t stop thinking about you and Vivian, knowing the situation is his doing. When he broke up with Vivian, he did it over the phone and barely gave her answers to the questions she posed. He didn’t know how to admit that he wasn’t in love, so instead, he made excuses about distance and hockey. It’s no wonder Vivian hovers now, waiting for you to make any misstep.

The thought of you returning to an ex is enough to make Jimin go wild. His arm tenses on the sofa, despite knowing there’s no reason for him to be mad. Still, it’s all he can think about when the movie ends and you get ready for bed. Bringing his stuff down the hall, Jimin lets you use the bathroom within his room.

The door remains shut when he returns, so Jimin busies himself with making the couch comfortable. He’s debating adding a third pillow when the bathroom door opens, and you step outside.

Jimin nearly drops the holiday pillow he holds. Honestly, he should receive awards for his self-control this weekend. Once again, you’ve decided to clothe yourself – or not clothe yourself – in the skimpiest nightgown known to man. Pink lace skims your generous curves, something you seem oblivious of while crossing the room.

Jimin’s jaw clenches. “What time do you want to wake up tomorrow?”

Gaze skipping past him, you land on the sofa. “You’re not seriously planning on sleeping there?” you demand, folding your arms over your chest.

He forces himself not to stare at your delicious cleavage. “This feels like a trick question.”

“Jimin!” You throw up both hands. “You’re injured! I feel bad enough you had to take painkillers this morning.”

“Oh. Well, don’t feel bad,” Jimin says, bending for the pillow.

“Jimin!”

“What?” He half-laughs as he straightens. “There’s only one bed in this room, and my parents would know if you slept anywhere else. This is fine, Y/N.”

Chewing your lower lip, you glance down. “Unless…”

He waits. “Are you offering to sleep on the couch?”

Your gaze snaps upward. “No.”

A tinge of awareness spreads down his spine as Jimin slowly glances between you and the bed. “Are you…” Jimin hesitates, not wanting to break the fragile truce between you. “Are you offering to break rule number one?”

“Technically, you were the one who offered to sleep on the couch,” you point out. “All I said was we didn’t have to pretend while we were alone.”

“Y/N.”

“Alright, fine!” you huff. “I don’t want to sleep in the same bed. But I’m… retracting that rule, for the good of humanity. Only the bed part,” you warn, shifting your weight.

Seeing you slightly flustered wakes a sleeping beast in his chest. Jimin takes a step closer, realizing you’re not immune to his proximity.

“Are you sure?” he asks, coming to a stop. “I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. I can sleep on the couch, Y/N, and be fine. I promise.”

“Oh?” you scoff, turning around. “And have me be blamed for injuring the ‘best offensive player in the NHL?’ No thanks.”

Jimin stares at your retreating backside. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he says, slowly following you towards the bed. “Have you been watching my games on TV?”

Your fingers freeze on the comforter. “I… I’ve seen a few,” you say, evasive as you pull back the sheets. Slipping beneath the covers, you pointedly avoid eye contact.

Unable to contain his grin, Jimin folds his arms. He doesn’t miss the way your gaze darts towards his biceps, lingering longer than is strictly necessary.

“How many?” Jimin demands, moving closer.

Gaze snapping upward, you scowl. “Enough to know you’re doing disgustingly well. And that every person with half a brain has a poster telling you so on the other side of the glass.”

Coming to a stop, his brows sketch upwards. “You’ve seen the posters?”

Jimin has seen the posters but then again, he’s the one stepping onto the ice every night. Some of the content has been downright suggestive, which it seems you know from your perturbed expression. Jimin knows it isn’t healthy to savor your jealousy – on the other hand, he’ll take anything he can get when it comes to you. Jealousy implies there’s something to be jealous of.

“They’re creative,” you mutter. “I’ll give them that.”

Jimin’s grin widens. Crossing to the opposite side, he pulls back the covers. “I’ve kept track of you, too,” he admits as he joins you.

Startled, you turn over to face him. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Turning off the light, Jimin rolls sideways. “I liked your last outfit. Sundry Sydney?” he says with a snort. “The sticker was brilliant.”

“Some people thought it wasn’t slutty enough.”

“Sundry Sydney is more than a pleasure bot,” Jimin says, quoting you word for word. “She can do everything – or anything, as she later revises.”

You laugh, delighted. “You remember.”

“Of course.” Jimin softens. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

In the moonlight, he watches your features change. Hesitance follows want in a way that makes his heart ache. Jimin did that. He put this space between you and, almost unthinking, he shifts closer.

“Sorry,” Jimin murmurs when his knee brushes your shin.

You blink. “It’s okay.”

Jimin is aware of each time you inhale, the rise and fall of your chest. The last time he slept next to you, he took it for granted. Now, he memorizes every single detail – your lashes on your cheeks, the weight of your body, the scent of your conditioner from across the pillow. If this is the last night Jimin can lie with you, he wants to remember.

Slowly, the sound of your breathing lulls his eyes shut.

Then next time they open, Jimin only feels heat. Warm, silken heat as he opens one eye and is immediately accosted by the sight of your bare shoulder. Stiffening, Jimin realizes his arm is draped over the curve of your waist. Your face nestles in his chest, fingers curled neatly into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Worse, your nightgown has ridden upward during the night, and Jimin can feel your bare thigh pressed to his. Exhaling softly, he tries to pull back. Under no circumstances can you wake and find him draped over you like the worst kind of leech. You let him sleep in the bed, not sleep with you, which is a crucial difference.

Unfortunately, his attempt at removing his arm only succeeds in rolling you closer. Jimin pauses, reevaluating as your curves press to his. When a mumbled sigh leaves your lips, he nearly gives up.

There’s only so much a person can be expected to ignore. Pressed to your soft skin, memories of past mornings come pouring back. If you were dating, Jimin would be figuring out ways to wake you up with his tongue. As it is, all he can do is close his eyes and pray for his hard-on to die.

“Jimin,” you mumble, pressing closer.

His eyes open. The movement brings your thighs flush together, and there’s no mistaking now, that was his name on your lips. Staring downward, Jimin wonders what you’re dreaming of, and whether or not he’s made an appearance.

Mumbling something, your eyes open. When your gazes connect, Jimin expects you to recoil, waits for the moment you realize where you are and withdraw.

Instead, you blink in a sleepy haze. Tentative, you move your hand higher and – Jimin holds his breath – lightly stroke your thumb down the center of his chest. Jimin hardly dares move as your gaze drops to his lips. Slowly – so, so slowly – you shift your hips forward and part your thighs.

Exhaling roughly, Jimin’s fingers find your thigh to drag over his waist. His hard cock fits snugly against your warm core.

“Oh,” you whimper.

Losing all sense of composure, Jimin tightens his grip and rolls his hips against you.

“Oh,” you moan, your head tipping back.

Dipping his chin, Jimin drags his nose up the heat of your throat. Open-mouthed, he ghosts over the place where your neck meets your collarbone. Panting, you roll your hips as his grip on you tightens. Each line of your body melts against his, driving him crazy.

Moving lower, Jimin brushes the silk hem of your nightgown. Your breath catches when his thumb slips beneath, drawing teasing circles against your inner thigh. One of your hands entwines in his hair, tugging in a way that makes him see red.

“Ah, fuck,” Jimin groans. Grasping your ass with both hands, he rolls on his back and brings you with.

Surprised, you land on top of him. “Jimin – oh,” you breathe when he thrusts upward, pressing his cock against your underwear.

Gaze somewhat hazy, you push yourself upright. Jimin moans at the sight of your thighs spilled to either side, your delicious breasts barely contained by the silk. Not looking away, keeping your hands on his chest, you slowly begin to move your hips. Jimin’s hands slide up to frame your waist, helping you get yourself off on his cock.

It won’t take long, he realizes with some shock. Whatever dream you had got you halfway, based on the way your thighs tremble above him. Lips parting, you moan his name and rock your hips faster. Gripping you tightly, Jimin thrusts upward. His fingers slip down your thighs, edging towards your center, when –

The doorbell rings downstairs.

Instantly, you freeze, your chest rising and falling. Jimin opens his mouth, but before he can utter a single word, you swing your leg off him.

“I – sorry,” you blurt, scooting to stand. “That… shouldn’t have happened.”

Jimin’s mouth shuts. No, probably not, but he also can’t bring himself to regret what just happened. Unlike you, it seems.

“I’m… just going to change,” you rush, practically fleeing into his bathroom. The door slams shut behind you, leaving Jimin alone in the bed.

Wearily, he collapses. “Fuck,” he mutters.

The shower turns on, and his imagination runs wild, replaying the past five minutes. Groaning, Jimin rolls over to stiffly stand. Yanking a sweater and jeans from his closet, he heads for the other bathroom to take care of himself. It barely takes a minute before he comes against the shower wall, chest heaving to stare at the water droplets.

With a clear head, Jimin can feel the full weight of dread in his chest. He moved too fast. Even with you instigating, Jimin shouldn’t have pushed things as far as they went. If he knows you at all – and Jimin thinks that he does – you’re probably freaking out in a separate shower. He needs to assure you as soon as possible that he wants this. Well, he wants you. Not just the physical parts.

Exhaling deeply, Jimin finishes showering and turns off the spray. Toweling himself dry, Jimin dresses as fast as he can to head downstairs. He’s nearly at the kitchen when a hand grasps his elbow, yanking him sideways and shoving him in the front closet.

Stumbling slightly, Jimin turns around and finds himself face-first with Hoseok. Flicking the light switch, Hoseok shuts the door and exhales.

Jimin looks past him. “What are you doing?” he asks, faintly alarmed. “Is everything okay?”

Shaking his head, Hoseok folds his arms across his chest. “No – definitely not. Your dad knows, man.”

“Knows what?”

“He knows,” Hoseok says with a pointed look. “He knows you’re planning to extend your hockey contract.”

Jimin’s heart sinks to the floor.

Coming to his senses, he shakes his head. “How?” Jimin demands. “How does my dad know?”

“Not sure.” Hoseok’s lips twist. “I think he went into town this morning, and some of his buddies told him. Apparently, news of the extension leaked online.”

Jimin is utterly still, already coming up with choice words for his agent. He knew this could happen, despite his request to keep this quiet. Sometimes teams leak the news to increase the pressure on players. Other times, another team in the league does it to spur a trade. Jimin hoped he’d have until the new year but apparently, the choice has been made for him.

“Well, fuck,” he mutters.

Hoseok just nods. “Yeah. I heard your mom and dad talking about it when I came downstairs.”

Jimin pauses, glancing at the door. “Have you just… been waiting out in the hall for me?”

“Yeah. I kept pretending to forget things in our room. Jisoo may or may not have caught on.”

“Great.” Jimin decides to push past this. “Did he… I mean, how did my dad seem?”

Hoseok frowns. “Quiet. I don’t know. He went into his office and didn’t come out until your mom started breakfast.”

Shit. Running a hand through his hair, Jimin exhales. “Alright,” he says. “Well, I guess there’s no point in putting things off.”

“Probably not.”

Nodding, Jimin turns to pull open the door and Hoseok’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Yeah?” Jimin asks, turning around.

“Just letting you know that I’m here for you,” Hoseok says, stepping into the hall. “I may be married to your sister, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jimin says quietly.

Squaring his shoulders, he follows him down the hall and into the kitchen. All voices cease. His mom’s spatula clatters against the bowl, and Jisoo falls silent at the kitchen table. Even you turn to face him, a mug of coffee in hand.

Jimin moves forward. “Hey,” he says tentatively. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Jimin!” says his mom, shooting a look at his dad.

Jimin’s dad pushes himself up from the table. “Jimin, can we talk?” he asks, gesturing towards the door. Based on his tone, this isn’t so much a request as a statement.

Although his stomach twists, Jimin manages a nod. “Sure, dad.”

He leaves the room, not looking behind to see if Jimin follows. Taking a deep breath, Jimin follows. When he nears the door, he feels a hand on his elbow. Gripping him tightly, you turn Jimin to face you.

“Hey,” you murmur. “Whatever your dad says – I’m here, okay? I believe in you, Jimin. No matter what.”

There’s steel to your voice, making him believe every word. No hint of weirdness from this morning remains, unraveling an unknown knot in his chest.

“Thank you,” Jimin rasps, gaining the strength to follow his dad.

The door to his dad’s study is as familiar as Jimin’s childhood, known as the only place off-limits to play in. Entering now, Jimin shuts the door and turns around.

His dad sits on the edge of his desk, hands clasped, and face lined. Jimin steps closer, about to plead his case but his dad holds up a hand.

“I think it’s best if I spoke first,” he says quietly.

Jimin stops, then nods.

Exhaling lowly, his dad drags a hand down his face. For the first time, Jimin notices moisture in the corners of his eyes when he looks up. “I heard this morning your contract is up for extension.”

Jimin decides honesty is best. “It is, yeah.”

His dad swallows, and then nods. “When my friends told me… I told them they must be mistaken. I said you would’ve said if that was true, and then they showed me the article…” Steadying himself, his dad continues. “I spent a lot of time this morning thinking about this past year.”

“Oh?” Jimin finds his voice. “What, specifically?”

His dad’s expression shifts. “Jimin, I’m sorry. I never… I never wanted to create a relationship where you couldn’t tell me things. Of course, I don’t want you to get hurt on the ice” – his voice strengthens – “but I know you. I know my son, and you don’t start things you don’t finish. You worked hard this past year to prove everyone wrong – to prove me wrong, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

His voice breaks slightly and, hearing this, Jimin rushes forward. Pulling his dad into a tight hug, Jimin lets out a sigh that sounds more like a sob. They stay there like that, their first hug in nearly a year as Jimin slowly exhales.

For so long, he’s wanted to hear those words from his dad. They feel good, but oddly enough, it feels even better to know he didn’t need this. Jimin has worked hard this fall to divorce self-approval from others. It will always take effort to maintain, but progress has been made, and that makes Jimin happier than anything else.

Pulling back, Jimin’s dad smiles. “We can go back now,” he laughs. “I know your mother made waffles. I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you. And you can talk to me about the contract if you want. There’s no need to keep things from us any longer.”

“Thanks, dad,” Jimin says.

His dad nods once, pulling open the door to gesture at the hall. As Jimin follows him out, you’re the first person he thinks of. Your face, saying you’d support him no matter what. This morning when you sighed his name into his t-shirt. Jimin recalls all the seconds, minutes, days he wanted you by his side this fall and knows he needs to tell you what he wants.

Even if you break his heart, Jimin needs you to know that it’s yours.

Something has changed since this morning.

Well, obviously something has changed. You woke up with your body flush against Jimin, one of your thighs flung over his delicious ass. You nearly came just from dry humping him, already close from the dirty dream you were having – about Jimin, no less. Something has changed though, and that something is you – because you’re no longer concerned about what might happen. About what hurt might befall you if you confess and it fails.

You want Jimin. You love Jimin, you never stopped, and you need him to know that. You just have to figure out how.

That’s proving to be the hard part. Jimin returned with his dad at breakfast, looking relaxed for the first time all trip, and his mom immediately suggested wrapping the gifts. You helped the twins wrap all morning, glitter getting everywhere, and once lunch ended, you needed to get ready for the Christmas Eve party.

Trying to cut down on time, you got ready down the hall – which proved to be a mistake, since it meant you didn’t see Jimin until going downstairs. He went all out this year, and part of you wonders if he did it on purpose. His hair has been slicked, styled away from his face in a wholly devastating manner. He’s wearing a taupe suit he once wore for an interview, a dark turtleneck beneath hugging his pecs in a way that’s distracting.

You only drove two cars tonight, and somehow you ended up in a van with Jimin and his parents. Not that you mind their company – you love Jimin’s parents, but his outfit is rated NC-17. For twenty minutes, you’re forced to sit next to Jimin and not say how good he looks in that suit.

Even at the party, your attention is immediately monopolized by neighbors and friends. Forcing a smile, you nod at the appropriate times in conversation, but your attention is elsewhere. It’s not anyone’s fault, but they just can’t compete with your ex-boyfriend. Slash pretend boyfriend. Slash man you want to be your boyfriend.

An hour into the party, you excuse yourself for the bathroom, shutting yourself in a stall to lower the lid and sit down. From there, you pull out your phone and scroll through the texts.

Namjoon: you did WHAT?! [7:14 PM]

Yoongi: they dry humped, Namjoon [7:16 PM]

Namjoon: Yes, I ‘m aware – my exclamation was one of shock, not confusion [7:17 PM]

Namjoon: what does this mean?? [7:17 PM]

Yoongi: Isn’t it obvious? They’re getting back together. Why else would she fly halfway across the country for Christmas? [7:18 PM]

Scowling darkly, you text them both back.

Y/N: excuse me, I never said anything about getting back together [7:21 PM]

Namjoon: you didn’t need to – Yoongi is right, Y/N [7:21 PM]

Yoongi: per usual [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: you said when you left that you were scared to get hurt because you still had feelings for him [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: well, this is you, having feelings [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: and possibly getting hurt [7:22 PM]

Your scowl only deepens.

Y/N: I’m not going to get hurt [7:23 PM]

Yoongi: … has he said anything about getting back together? [7:23 PM]

You stare at the screen several moments before you respond.

Y/N: no… not exactly [7:24 PM]

Yoongi’s ellipses blink, then disappear and are replaced by Namjoon.

Namjoon: look – no one is saying he won’t ask you, okay? Just… maybe you should talk before dry humping him again. Make sure you’re both on the same page about what this all means [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: what Joon said [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: also – where are you? Hasn’t Jimin noticed you’re glued to your phone? [7:25 PM]

Y/N: no. I’m texting you from the bathroom, smartass [7:26 PM]

Namjoon: go back out there and have fun [7:27 PM]

Y/N: consider it done [7:27 PM]

Returning your phone to your purse, you use the bathroom and freshen up. Once you return to the party, you take a deep breath and scan the crowd.

This year’s Christmas Eve party is at the local ski lodge. The main lobby has been decorated within an inch of its life, the focal point being a gargantuan Christmas tree. Glass windows at the back overlook the ski slopes, butter-yellow light disappearing to shadows.

A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, and you snag a glass for something to do with your hands.

“Y/N!”

A familiar voice calls, but before you can turn, Jungkook wraps you into a hug. Jungkook Jeon is both Jimin’s childhood friend and his NHL faux rival. Being from the same town, the media love to compare them at every turn – something that’s become a fun rivalry. The last time you hung out, his hair was much longer. Tonight though, he’s wearing all black with a sharp undercut.

“How have you been?” Jungkook grins, pulling back. He’s careful not to mess up your hair or dress, for which you’re grateful.

“Good,” you say with a laugh. “What about you? I hear the Kraken are leading the division – you must be happy.”

Jungkook’s smile disappears. “Not the conference, though.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing his perfectionism rivals only Jimin. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Someone’s got to be. And besides,” he adds, glancing over your shoulder. “It’s not like we have the best offensive player in the league,” Jungkook calls in a sing-songy voice.

A familiar arm wraps around your waist. “Did you two watch the same special, or something?” Jimin gripes, brushing his lips to your cheek. “There are so many good players, calling anyone ‘the best’ is kind of pointless.”

“I believe they totaled your points,” you say, much to Jungkook’s amusement.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Jimin sighs with a shake of his head. “And of course, Jungkook swoops in to steal you.”

“Can you blame me?” Jungkook winks, drinking from his champagne. “Look at Y/N! If he ever messes up, Y/N, give me a call,” he jokes, and you feel Jimin stiffen.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder.

He relaxes ever so slightly, squeezing your waist with one hand. Jungkook grimaces at this, trading his nearly empty champagne glass for a full one.

“You two are annoyingly cute,” he says, but he grins. “Seriously, though, you’ve been putting in work, Jimin. It’s impressive.”

“Thanks.” Jimin nods, toasting his glass.

“Have you seen Tae and Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, standing on tiptoe. “I keep getting cornered by moms wanting me to date their daughters, and I could use some high ground.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jimin jerks his thumb. “Alcove off the balcony. Everyone is gathered there – I was just coming to get Y/N.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook says as he leaves. “I’ll meet you there.”

Once he’s gone, Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung and Seokjin are two of their closest high school friends. Seokjin is currently single, but Taehyung got married early this year. Unfortunately, you couldn’t attend their wedding, but the ceremony looked beautiful, and you sent a gift.

Setting down his champagne, Jimin grabs your hand and tugs you into a corner. Turning to face you, his cheeks flush slightly pink.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking you up and down. “Have I said how beautiful you look tonight?”

Heat stirs in your belly. “Not yet, no.”

“Well, you do,” Jimin says, his gaze dark.

Admittedly, you were a bit unfair in packing this dress. Your original intention in buying it was to wear New Year’s Eve and post jealousy-inducing photos on Instagram. Instead, you’re wearing it here with Jimin on your arm. Silky and emerald, the dress clings like a second skin, dropping in the back to a point just above your ass. Slightly impractical, but you borrowed a coat from Jisoo.

Jimin’s fingers ghost over the silk. “You deserve to hear it again,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You’re being kind of unfair to everyone else at this party.”

“How so?”

“Poor Jungkook will have to find someone else.”

Your upper lip twitches, stepping closer. “Is that what you’re worried about?” you coo, sliding a hand up his chest. “That I’ll take Jungkook up on his offer? Not interested,” you say, allowing your gaze to linger. “You, on the other hand – that suit is designed to ruin hearts.”

“Only hearts?”

“Mm.” Softly, your voice drops. “Why? Were you planning on ruining something else?”

“Only if you asked nicely.”

Your eyes widen, stunned and Jimin smiles. His hands grip your body, cedar and black pepper scent wrapping around you and doing its best to make you come undone.

“Come on.” Taking your hand, Jimin turns away. “Let’s go and say hi to my friends. Everyone was asking earlier where you were.”

Slightly dazed by his former implication, you nod and follow. Jimin leads you through the crowd, bypassing everyone who attempts small talk. By the time you reach the alcove, Jungkook is already seated.

“What happened to you two?” he asks, smushed between Taehyung and Seokjin on the couch. “Making out in a corner? Couples are the worst,” he mutters to Taehyung before realizing who he’s talking to. “Oh. Right. Never mind.”

Taehyung’s wife, Alya, laughs from her armchair. “No comment. We may have been making out in a corner earlier.”

A lone strand of hair falls over Taehyung’s forehead. “Guilty,” he says, raising his glass.

Seokjin pokes Jungkook in the side. “If you hate couples so much, why are you sitting here,” he groans. “This is a two-person sofa.”

“Exactly!” Jungkook says. “It’s weird for you and Taehyung to sit together, since he’s married. I’m actually saving you.”

Settling onto an armchair, Jimin pulls you down with him to sit on his lap. His arm snakes around your front, pulling you backwards to rest.

“Anyways.” Jimin looks around. “How is everyone?”

Hoseok and Jisoo appear from the hall. “Oh, thank god,” Jisoo says, sitting between you and Alya. “This area was a complete sausage fest the last time we swung by.”

“Hey!” Seokjin cries. “I offered you a drink.”

“You offered her your drink,” Hoseok says drily, sitting next to his wife. “Doesn’t count.”

Jisoo leans over her armrest. “Y/N,” she hisses. “Do you have a tampon? They didn’t fit in my purse, and of course, my body waited until now to announce we’re not pregnant.”

You stifle a laugh. “Yes, of course,” you say, handing her your purse. “Left inner pocket – go wild.”

“Thanks.” Flashing a smile, Jisoo stands from the chair and disappears down the hall.

Jimin holds you against him, his thumb lightly stroking the ridge of your hip. Your entire body melts, perception heightened at each point he touches.

“So.” Jungkook turns towards Taehyung. “What did you get Alya for Christmas, Tae? Aside from the wedding, obviously.”

Alya laughs and sips her champagne. “Go on, tell them.”

Taehyung turns red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“What is?” Jungkook asks, glancing between them.

“It’s not.” Alya shakes her head. “Taehyung was so excited about the gift he gave it to me early. This morning, he surprised me by having our wedding bands engraved. I wanted to do it last year, but it didn’t fit in our budget. Anyways, he borrowed my band to clean it and got it done! I didn’t suspect a thing!”

“That’s amazing,” you say. “I love that idea.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Taehyung smiles.

“What about you, Jimin?” Seokjin jostles Jungkook to face him. “What did you get Y/N this year? What is it – four years?”

Jimin tenses slightly, so you jump in. “Oh, we decided not to do gifts this year,” you hasten. “There’s been a lot going on, and we –”

“I got Y/N a gift,” Jimin interrupts. “But it’s a secret until tomorrow.”

Surprised, you crane your head sideways to see him. “You got me a gift?”

He nods. “Yeah. Is that alright?”

“Mhm.” You shift in his lap. “I, um… actually got you something, too.”

Tightening his grip on your waist, Jimin keeps you still. “Oh?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You bought Jimin a gift months ago, and never returned it. When you were packing, you decided at the last minute to throw it inside – along with this dress and the skimpy night clothes.

“I want to know!” Seokjin blurts. “Just whisper it in my ear, Y/N. I won’t tell.”

You laugh, facing forward. “Sorry, Seokjin. That’s confidential. Mr. Kim” – you nod at Taehyung – “may not respect the sanctity of Santa Claus, but I’m not risking getting coal in my stocking.”

Softly, Jimin laughs, nuzzling your shoulder with his lips. It hasn’t escaped you that he stilled your hips to conceal his reaction to you on top. Something which distracts you more than it should.

“Get off,” Seokjin groans, pushing Jungkook upward. “I swear, you make this party worse every year.”

You grin, watching their antics as Jungkook walks off. Taller and heavier than Jimin, you know he only stood from the seat because he wanted to. Wandering to a free armchair, Jungkook flops down.

“Where’s your Christmas spirit?” he asks, waving his glass of champagne. “I was just about to tell you the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.”

Alya and Hoseok both laugh, and Taehyung shakes his head. Conversation then devolves to the Seattle Kraken, and Jimin’s fingers dig into the silk at your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he murmurs, lips at your ear. “Did you actually get me a present? Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I sprung this trip on you, and we’re not – well, you know…”

“I know,” you say back. “But yes, I got you a gift. Actually.” You pause. “I bought it for you a while ago and held onto it.”

“Ah.” Jimin pauses. Slipping his thumb beneath your chin, he turns you to face him. “Y/N. I just wanted to say –”

“Hey, Y/N, someone’s calling you,” announces Jisoo, walking into the room. Reaching into your purse, she pulls out your phone and frowns. “Who’s Mike?”

Your stomach drops through the floor.

Jimin’s body tenses beneath you, and you fight for a way out of the growing panic. Worse, everyone else seems to have heard, since all gazes lock on you. Struggling to breathe, you stand abruptly and snatch your phone.

“No one,” you blurt, grabbing your purse from a blinking Jisoo. “I mean, Mike’s a client. I should probably take this call outside.”

Before they can respond, you grab your phone and rush off. Brushing past Jisoo, you ignore her look of concern. Loudly, your heels click on the wooden floor. Whispers rise in your exit, but you ignore them, face burning as you turn your phone over in your hand.

Reaching the foyer, you stumble to a halt and glance overhead at the mistletoe. Purposefully side-stepping this, you see one missed call. In addition, there are several missed texts from Yoongi and Namjoon, but these you ignore.

Fingers trembling, you swipe open the text from Mike Davis.

Mike: hey, Y/N! I was doing laundry and found your Ventra card in my pocket. I think I grabbed yours by mistake. Want to meet up and exchange in the new year? [8:10 PM]

Mike: you know, I had a really great time meeting you the other night [8:13 PM]

You grip your phone tighter. He can’t be serious. The date ended so poorly, you were surprised the bartender didn’t film and put it on TikTok. Mike can’t actually want to hang out again. Orthink reaching out to you on Christmas Eve would be a good idea.

Brow lowered, your fingers punch the keyboard.

Y/N: Hey, Mike. You can keep the Ventra card, no worries [8:25 PM]

Deleting his number, you exhale in relief and turn around – only to run into Jimin, who stands right behind. Close enough to have seen every word on your phone.

Jimin’s fists clench, having read both the texts. There’s no reason to be jealous, he reminds himself with zero success. You aren’t dating, so it’s perfectly reasonable for you to text another guy. The fact that this Mike guy hasn’t come up is none of Jimin’s concern. And yet.

“So.” Voice cold, Jimin tilts his head. “Mike is…?”

He pauses for you to complete the blank, knowing you won’t say just a client.

“He’s…” Shifting, you avoid eye contact. “Someone I know.”

“Please.”

Your expression shifts, meeting his gaze. “Well, what do you want me to say?” you demand, stepping closer. “Tell your friends a client called me. They’ll buy it, it’ll be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Jimin growls. “And I could care less what my friends think.”

Bewildered, you stare. “I don’t understand. That’s literally the entire reason you asked me to come here this weekend. So you wouldn’t have to admit we broke up.”

Jimin’s heart flatlines. “Is that really what you think?” he demands, reaching out. Catching your wrist, he pulls you even closer. “You thought I was so terrified of explaining my contract to my family, I couldn’t possibly tell them we broke up, as well?”

Your brows furrow deeper. “That’s what you told me, so, yes. That’s what I thought.”

“Right. And is it serious?”

“Is what serious?”

“This guy – Mike. Are you two serious?”

Your jaw hangs open a second before it snaps shut. “Are we – no, Jimin,” you say, the words dripping with derision. “We’re not serious. You and I broke up only three months ago! Do you really think I managed to move on so quickly?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin admits, even as his head spins. “I didn’t–”

“I mean, god,” you exhale, ripping your hand from his grasp. “I go on one date, and somehow, I’m the bad guy. Never mind that you’re the one who wanted to break up,” you add, whirling around to jab him in the chest. “You” – a second prod – “were the one who asked to break up!”

Closing his hand around your finger, Jimin tugs you forward. “I know,” he says hoarsely. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but I am. I’m jealous, and I’m wrong, and I don’t even fucking care because I miss you, Y/N. I know you’re right here, but I miss you.”

Something in your gaze breaks. “I miss you, too, Jimin.”

“I know I didn’t fight hard enough to keep you back then. I should have, and I can’t say how much I regret it.” Sliding his hands up your arms, Jimin grips your elbows. “I don’t care if you went out with one guy or a hundred. I asked you to come here this weekend because I wanted you. I was too afraid to ask you outright, so I used my career as an excuse.”

“An… excuse?”

Gripping you tighter, Jimin exhales. “I mean, everyone knows. My parents know I’m extending my contract, and they’re fine with it. I still don’t want to tell them we broke up.”

“Well, sure.” Your gaze darts across him. “Because you don’t want to spoil Christmas – right?”

“That’s not why.”

“Then, why?”

Before he can lose his nerve, Jimin slides his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You inhale when your chests touch, the silk of your dress rucking beneath his palm.

“I think you know the reason,” he rasps, his gaze finding your lips.

“All the same” – somehow, your fingers curl into hair at the base of his neck – “I’d like to hear you say it.”

Bending, Jimin’s lips skim your throat. “I told you I don’t care what my family thinks. I just want you, Y/N.”

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head. Your lips briefly touch, then you still.

Jimin hesitates, his brain short-circuiting before he connects. Springing into motion, he slides both palms to either side of your face and kisses you deeply. Walking you backwards, he only stops when your spine hits the wall. Reaching lower, Jimin grabs your wrists with one hand to yank overhead.

You stare upward, eyes lidded, as your chest rises and falls. Jimin nearly groans, sliding his knee between your legs to widen your stance.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes, crushing your mouth with his.

All he knows is your scent, wrapped around him. The feel of your mouth, the curves of your body arching against him. Jimin loses himself in the moment – in you – to the point where nothing else seems to matter.

Releasing your wrists, Jimin grasps the hem of your dress with one hand to drag it upward. Inch by inch, your bare thigh is revealed to his touch.

“Oh,” you gasp, your head hitting the wall.

Taking advantage, Jimin kisses roughly down your exposed neckline. Each time you inhale, it reminds him of your chest against him. Withdrawing, Jimin glances down and nearly curses. Whatever bra you have on does little to conceal your hardened nipples, easily visible through the silk of your dress.

“Mm.” Jimin exhales, running a thumb over the tip. “Can’t have you returning to the party like this, can I?”

Your thighs clench. “People definitelywouldn’t suspect we broke up.”

Again, Jimin circles your nipple, making you moan. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Like I said, though – this isn’t about the people out there. This is about you. What do you want, Y/N?”

Jimin holds his breath as he waits for an answer. Really, this is what it comes down to.

Your grip on him tightens. “I want you to take me home right now, Jimin.”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes.

Grasping you by the hand, Jimin tugs you into the hall. You giggle, stumbling as you fix the strap of your dress, and he can’t keep a stupid grin from spreading over his face.

“We’re leaving now,” Jimin says, bringing you towards the exit. “Otherwise, I’m going to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you like that.”

Your heels dig into the floorboards, and he turns to look at you, concerned.

“Oh.” You blink innocently. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a threat?”

Jimin goes still, consumed by images he’d rather not face. Visions of your panties pulled down, bent over his knees while he fingers your dripping pussy. Or your hands, curled around a doorframe while he lowers himself to drag his tongue up your slit. Or pressed against a wall, your panties pushed aside for him to –

“Alright – enough,” Jimin growls, grabbing your hand.

You laugh when he pulls you onward, bringing you to the lodge doors. Reaching the front, Jimin pauses long enough to hand the valet his ticket. While you visit the coat closet, he pulls you close and runs his nose down your throat.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” he murmurs, low in your ear. “Any idea just how many times I’ve jerked off in the shower this trip?”

“How sad,” you say, turning to face him. “Pray tell, what did you think about?”

Sliding his hand over the curve of your ass, Jimin presses you closer. “Lots of things,” he exhales. “Your pretty lips around my cock. Finger-fucking you slowly, making you take it. How wet you were beneath those ridiculous excuses for nightgowns.”

Your laugh is throaty. “I brought those specifically for you, you know.”

“Mission accomplished,” Jimin growls. Outside, he sees the valet arrive and releases your waist. “Now, let’s go.”

Slipping both arms into your coat, you follow Jimin outside to the car. He helps you in, shutting the door and traveling to the passenger side. Shoving a hand through his hair, he attempts to regain his composure. The two of you need to get home safely – that’s top priority.

Of course, by the time he sits down and glances over, all thoughts of safety fly out the window. You’ve left your coat unbuttoned, enough that he sees each sinful line of your body. Suddenly, his top priority is to get you home – now.

Shutting the door, Jimin puts the car in drive and pulls from the lodge. You exhale, somewhat breathless as you shift to face him.

“This is going to be fast,” you admit, a bit breathy. Jimin’s hands on the wheel tighten. “You said you’ve been jerking off in the shower? Well, I haven’t had any alone time. You’ve just been edging me for three days.”

“Don’t say edging,” Jimin groans. “I’m trying to concentrate on getting you home.”

“Oh?” Tilting your head, you lean closer. “Do you find that topic distracting?”

“Yes,” Jimin huffs, and then pauses. “Actually… I think you could use a little more distraction. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t miss the way your fingers still, your breath hitching beside him.

“Maybe,” you say.

Jimin glances in your direction. “Spread your legs.”

Without breaking eye contact, you spread your legs until the silk is stretched tautly over your thighs.

“Pull up your dress.”

Casually, you grip the hem to tug upward. Jimin tries not to look, watching the road, but the position is torturous. As soon as you come to a stop light, he turns.

Your thighs press against the edge of the seat, silken dress hitched over the top of your thighs. Jimin exhales, unable to see what he wants, but the shadows and skin are more than enticing.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, and desire flares in your gaze.

Arching slightly, your hand inches lower to dip beneath your dress. Jimin keeps his eyes on you, watching and waiting for your reaction. When he hears the slip of your finger, your lips slowly part as your eyes fill with lust.

“Oh,” you exhale, and Jimin’s body tightens.

“That’s it,” he breathes, listening to your finger drag upward. “How wet are you, baby?”

“So wet,” you groan, eyelashes fluttering as you spread your legs further.

“No.” Jimin’s gaze drops to your hand. “Press your thighs together. Keep touching yourself.”

The light turns green, spurring him onward as the night changes. He watches you obey in the corner of one eye, legs pressed together with your hand trapped between them. Head hitting the headrest, your chest rises and falls with the motion of your fingers.

 “That’s it, baby,” Jimin murmurs, switching lanes to go faster. “You’re doing so well. I want you to come once for me before we get home. Okay?”

Your eyes open. “You want me to come?”

“Just once.” Jimin lowly chuckles. “I know you, baby. I know you can come at least twice more tonight.”

“Fuck,” you groan, your need evident.

The record number of orgasms Jimin has given you in one night is five, but that was only one time. Jimin thought it’d be fun to see how many times he could make you come with only his tongue. Five, it turned out – or rather, that was the point you frankly begged for his cock.

A few minutes away from home, Jimin relents. “Alright,” he exhales. “Spread your legs again.”

You instantly obey, thighs spread as you groan, your fingers slipping lower.

“Can you stretch yourself for me, baby?” Jimin murmurs, the words low and thick. “Keep that other hand on your clit, now.”

Adding another hand, you arch on the seat. Every ounce of blood in Jimin’s body rushes towards his cock, enough to make things painful as you near the house. You push a finger inside, releasing a moan that makes his grip tighten.

“That’s it,” Jimin exhales, driving as carefully as possible over the dirt road.

“Ah,” you gasp when he hits a bump, jolting your fingers deeper.

Jimin clenches the wheel. “You liked that?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, glancing at him, your expression almost shy.

Fuck. Jimin does his best to angle the car, creating more friction as you rub your clit. He does his best to remain facing forward but is distracted every so often by the sight of your hips moving against the seat.

Throwing out a hand, you grasp his lower arm. “Jimin,” you groan, your head hitting the headrest. “I’m so, so close.”

Pulling to a stop in the driveway, Jimin puts the car in park and throws off his seatbelt. Shoving open the door, he goes to the passenger side. Your eyes widen when he yanks open your door, unbuckling you and dragging your hips to the edge of your seat.

“Eyes on me,” Jimin directs, gripping the seat on either side. “Just keep touching yourself like a good girl, Y/N. I know that pussy is so pretty and wet. Can’t wait to lick it clean later. Can you spread yourself wider? Add another finger?”

Your thighs fall on either side of his waist, enough for Jimin to know you can feel how hard he is. The dress continues to cover your waist, and he doesn’t lift it higher. Doesn’t so much as touch you, just keeps his gaze trained on yours.

“I need your fingers,” you whimper, and Jimin feels you grip his wrist, guiding his hand in between your slick legs.

“Shit,” he exhales, feeling how wet you are.

The slick core of heat, your hips arching against him, breaks his last scruple. Keeping his gaze steady, Jimin slowly slides two fingers into your perfect cunt. Relief washes over your face, your lips parting as fresh arousal coats Jimin’s hand.

“God,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers to pull out. Slowly, he pushes back in and watches you hiccup. “You really did need my fingers, didn’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whimper, scrambling to sit straighter. Pulling him closer, your thighs widen. “I need you inside me.”

“In what way?” Jimin muses, stretching you as he pulls out.

“Want your cock, Jimin,” you groan, your chest heaving.

Pushing aside your coat, his free hand yanks down the strap of your dress, revealing what can barely be construed as a bra. The tiniest silk triangle barely covers your nipple in a flimsy excuse for support.

“You’ll get my cock,” Jimin promises. Lowering his head, he sucks your nipple – silk and all – between his lips. “Want to taste you first.”

“Jimin,” you moan.

“Patience.” Yanking your hips closer, he leans over you on the seat. Using this angle, he works his fingers deeper as your body tightens. “Like that, yeah?” Jimin murmurs, brushing your g-spot. “Want to come like this?”

“Please,” you whimper, spreading your thighs.

Jimin loses himself in the haze of your body, the tight slick of your heat while he finger-fucks you. Each thrust of his forearm has your breasts bouncing, your tiny scrap of a bra doing nothing to hide the movement.

“Once we get upstairs” – Jimin thrusts harder – “I want this dress on the floor. I want you dripping wet and naked, ass in the air so I can push my cock inside you.”

“Jimin!” you gasp, your entire body shuddering.

“And then,” he adds, low in your ear, “I want you to ride me. Need these tits in my mouth, your ass bouncing on my dick as you come again.”

You cry out, head thrown back as you come apart. Continuing to thrust his fingers, Jimin slows his movement as your breathing lengthens. Slumping against him, you hold tight with both arms.

As gentle as possible, Jimin slips his fingers from your body to fix your dress and coat. Shifting your weight from the seat to his arms, he shuts the door with his heel and starts to walk up the drive.

Stirring, you look around. “Oh,” you exhale, seeing the front porch. “Are we home already?”

Jimin stops to stare at you in his arms. “Did you… think I just pulled aside on a random highway?” he asks, equal parts puzzled and amused.

Sheepish, you feel your face heat. “Maybe?”

“Fair enough.” Jimin chuckles and keeps moving. “You should know, though – I wouldn’t risk anyone else seeing you like that.” He pauses. “Unless you wanted them to.”

You squirm in his arms, somewhat embarrassed by how much you like the prospect. Seeing this, Jimin’s eyes gleam and he leans closer.

“Seems like you might want that,” he murmurs.

Unable to articulate, you nod and watch his lips curve.

“Noted.”

Reaching the front door, Jimin bends to set you down. Once inside, he strips from his coat and boots, turning around to face you.

God, just looking at him is enough to make you weak. He just gave one ridiculously satisfying orgasm – it should be too soon for another and yet, your traitorous body feels barely sated.

“Was I not clear?” Lifting a brow, Jimin walks closer. “I thought I said I wanted you naked.”

You lift your chin. “Wanting is different than getting.”

“Oh, I think you want that, too.”

Fuck. You absolutely do, but you know Jimin enjoys being teased, so you lift your chin in the air to walk past him. “Well?” you demand, placing one hand on the railing. “Are you coming?”

You let your coat drop to your elbows, stepping out of your heels to head upstairs. Jimin groans from behind, and you hear his footsteps follow.

Entering the bedroom, you drop your coat on the couch and turn. Jimin stands framed in the door, several buttons on his jacket already undone. He doesn’t come any closer, and you lift your thumbs to slip under the straps.

“Was this what you wanted?” you ask, innocently slipping them down your shoulders.

Jimin moves forward. Coming to a stop, he replaces your thumbs and casually tugs. The dress slips from your shoulders, catching on your chest, and he motions you to turn.

Obeying, you watch in the mirror as Jimin steps closer. He meets your gaze head-on, slipping a hand around your stomach to mold himself to you from behind. Finding your zipper with his other hand, he tugs down.

Both of you watch the dress fall, silk pooling at your feet to leave you naked. Well, mostly naked. A red, silk thong remains, along with your bra. Really, just two triangles of silk held up by thin straps. Your breasts spill around the materials, creating a tantalizing visual his gaze is locked on. Jimin fingers the clasp of your bra, then releases.

“Actually,” he says, his voice husky. “I want to play like this.”

Before you can fully digest his words, Jimin walks around and grasps your hand. Leading you to bed, he sets you down and urges you backwards.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, nudging your ankles apart. “Just like that.”

Releasing you, he takes a step back to run a hand through his hair. You stare upward, propped on your elbows, your chest rising and falling. Jimin stares like you’re something to be savored, then devoured. His gaze traces your body, starting at your ankles to work his way upward.

He takes in your spread legs, dripping pussy visible beneath the scrap of silk. By the time Jimin finds your breasts, your nipples are painfully hard, and he groans, reaching down to palm his cock. Your breath catches, seeing how hard he is in his pants.

“Jimin,” you moan, sliding one foot lower. “I want you.”

Lowering his knee to the bed, Jimin plants a hand on either side of your head. “Patience,” he murmurs, brushing his lips to yours.

You curl around him, fingers tangling in soft stands of his hair. His fully clothed body presses against you, nearly nude, and you shiver. The feel of his suit against skin is intoxicating. Jimin pulls back to nip your lower lip, grasping you by the waist to pin you fully.

Thrusting forward, he allows you to feel how badly he wants you. His achingly hard cock grinds against your center, and you arch beneath him.

“Jimin,” you pant, tightening your grip in his hair.

���Ah – fuck,” he groans, helplessly rutting between your spread thighs.

Your hands fumble, slipping beneath his suit jacket to cast this aside. Jimin sits up, helping you shed his dark turtleneck. Thrown to the ground, he lowers his mouth, eagerly flicking your chest with his tongue. You moan, hands fisting his hair to anchor him. Tugging the other silk cup down, Jimin switches to suck a hardened nipple.

“Get rid of it,” you pant, reaching underneath to unsnap your bra. Jimin grins, tossing your bra on top of his pile of clothes. Swiftly returning, he bends to lick and suck at your breasts.

Your hips roll beneath him, desperately searching for your release. Jimin knows how sensitive you are, knows you can come like this, but doesn’t seem inclined. Instead, he sits back and runs a hand through his hair.

You nearly come at the sight – Jimin, shirtless with mussed hair and reddened lips. Pushing yourself upward, you struggle to undo the first button of his pants.

Chuckling, Jimin replaces your hands with his. “I need these on,” he says, scooting backwards. “I need something to keep myself from coming.”

“But I want you to come,” you protest as Jimin lowers himself to his stomach.

“And I appreciate that.” Turning his head, his breath touches your knee. “But I’ve spent three months fantasizing about what to do if I ever got to touch you again. First things first.”

Lowering yourself to your elbows, your entire body throbs at the sight of Jimin between your thighs. He looks at you, reverent, before slowly dragging his thumb down your aching center.

“Oh,” you inhale, opening further.

Gaze dark, Jimin pulls the fabric of your panties aside. Your face burns, hearing your wetness, but all that dissolves at the first sweep of his tongue.

“Fu-ck, Jimin,” you groan, head tipping back.

He takes his time, working you open with long, tender strokes. No man has ever eaten you out so well, and you doubt anyone ever will again. As though driving this point home, Jimin switches from tender licks to sucking hard on your clit. You moan, helplessly splayed beneath his torture.

“Jimin,” you gasp, hands fisting in sheets.

Shifting closer, Jimin nudges one leg over his shoulders and grips your ass with both hands. Pulling you into his mouth, he devours, licking up and down in a way that’s obscene. A half-sob climbs in your throat, your back arching when he adds a finger.

“That’s it, Y/N,” Jimin pants, lifting his head. “Such a pretty pussy. Can you come for me, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp.

Jimin lowers his mouth, adding a finger while slowly sucking your clit. Staring down your body at him, you feel your thighs tremble. Jimin’s shoulders flex while eating you out, his hips grinding into the sheets to get himself off. Imagining his cock pushing inside tips you over the edge, and you break apart. A wave of pleasure sweeps through you, seeing stars as Jimin curls his fingers.

Muscles limp, you collapse on the mattress. When your eyes open, your thigh is still flung over Jimin’s shoulder. Grinning, he pushes himself upward, taking your leg with him. Turning, Jimin presses a soft kiss to your calf.

“Fuck,” you groan, one arm flung over your face. “That was even better than I remember. And trust me, I’ve thought about that a lot.”

“Oh?” Jimin gently sets your leg down. “Do tell.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “Take off your pants.”

Jimin drops his hands to his belt. “Tell me” – he undoes the buckle – “in explicit detail” – he pulls the length through the straps – “what you thought about.” The belt is dropped on the floor.

Your tongue swipes your lower lip. “I thought about a lot of things.”

“Be specific.” Shoving his pants and briefs down, Jimin lingers at the point where his hips are exposed. “When you touched yourself, did you think of me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Mm.” Jimin tilts his head. “What about when you used your toys?”

You whimper, spreading your thighs on his bed. “Yes.”

“And were they good enough? Did your pretty pink dildo stretch you as nicely?”

“No,” you whimper, watching him stand.

Still looking at you, Jimin pushes his slacks to the floor. Your heart pounds when his length is released, so hard it seems painful. The head of his cock glistens with pre-cum, the thick veins prominent. Wrapping a fist around himself, Jimin places one knee on the mattress.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, and you hasten to obey.

Once they’re removed, you’re left naked before him. Gaze glinting, Jimin inclines his head. “Turn around. Lay on your stomach.”

Heat throbs between your legs as you do so, glancing over your shoulder. Jimin positions himself behind you, kneeling over your thighs with his cock in his fist.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he exhales, slipping two fingers into your pussy. Arching your back, you squirm to get closer. “When you come, I want to see you, but right now…”

You feel the head of cock nudging your thighs apart, getting wet with your slick. Leaning over, Jimin pulls open a drawer on his nightstand to retrieve a condom. Pulling this open, he rolls this onto himself and pushes between your thighs.

Each messy thrust rubs his cock against your clit, making you push your ass backwards. Jimin smacks your ass swiftly, then makes a low noise and rubs it.

“God, I missed you,” he exhales, pushing himself into your cunt.

You moan, burying your face in your arms to lift your ass higher. Jimin is thick, even more than you remember, and you feel your walls stretch with a pleasant burn. He pauses a few inches in to gently tug your hips upward.

Keeping your chest to the bed, he lifts you almost to your knees. Leaning forward, Jimin slips an arm underneath you to play with your clit. From behind, his hips slowly thrust in and out a few inches. Stretching you, yet barely sating the edge of your desire.

“Jimin,” you groan, turning your head to capture his mouth.

His fingers nudge your clit, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock gets even deeper. Each time he slowly thrusts and withdraws, you accept him a little more. Buried halfway, Jimin draws leisurely circles around your throbbing clit.

“More,” you moan, pushing back.

Jimin chuckles, retreating to grip your hips with both hands. He thrusts in slow, easy motions to work himself deeper. By the time he bottoms out, your hands are fisted in sheets.

“Fuck,” you exhale, thighs spread to accommodate him inside you.

Jimin stays there a moment, thumbs drifting over the shape of your ass. “Y/N,” he mutters. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

Leisurely, he withdraws until only the head of his cock remains. Jimin thrusts forward slowly, making you feel every inch of him. Moaning, you bury your face in the sheets, and his hand comes down again.

“Louder,” Jimin demands, gripping your waist. “Don’t hide from me, baby. Want to hear you.”

Head thrown back, you pant as he sinks into you fully. All you do is take it, breathless and eager while he slowly fucks you. Casually, Jimin pushes your hips down so you lie flat on the bed. One foot on the mattress, he adjusts himself to push inside you like that.

“Oh,” you moan, toes curling.

Thighs pressed together, your clit rubs the sheets, making it messy and tight as he moves inside you. Gripping your ass with one hand, Jimin anchors himself to fuck you in slow, rolling movements. You arch underneath him, gaining friction but when you clench tighter, Jimin pulls out.

A strangled sound leaves your throat. “Excuse me,” you blurt, rolling sideways to face him. “I was enjoying that.”

“Oh, I know.” Jimin grins from the spot where he kneels. His cock is hard, glistening with evidence of your arousal. “But what I really want is to have you on my lap.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Turning over, you arch your back and watch Jimin’s eyes glaze. He reaches for you swiftly, helping you onto your knees. Seating himself against the headboard, Jimin arranges your body over his thighs.

Hovering above him, you grasp his shoulders. “Is this what you wanted?’

“Fuck, yes.” Jimin drinks in your body. His fingers swipe through your cunt, teasing as he bends to suck a hard nipple between his lips.

Spreading your ass with one hand, his fingers stroke up and down your aching pussy. Arching against him, you present your chest further as your grip on him tightens. Jimin slips a finger inside you, casually fucking like that until you moan.

“Jimin,” you whimper. “Please.”

Moving to grip his cock, Jimin positions himself at your entrance. “All you had to do was ask,” he says, guiding your hips.

The head of his cock pushes inside, then stops, waiting for you to take over. Greedy, you seat yourself in a single motion. One second, you’re empty and the next, you’re full of his cock. Jimin swears, gripping you tightly as you inhale. Chest pressed to his, you stay there, pussy throbbing as you grow accustomed to his girth.

“Fuck – Y/N,” Jimin chokes out.

“I thought you wanted this?” you tease, lifting your hips to swivel. Jimin’s eyelashes flutter when you start riding him, rising and falling on the length of his cock.

Thighs spread, you grip his shoulders to move up and down. Jimin groans, lowering his head to tease one of your nipples. He continues this while you fuck him, sucking and releasing with a lewd pop. Needing him deeper, you start to bounce up and down. His cock soothes a tight ache inside you, stretching your body like he was made for it.

Breathless, you press closer, curling your fingers into his hair. Jimin responds eagerly, widening your thighs to grip your ass with one hand. Tightly entwined, you move against him until he takes over, slamming your hips down again and again.

“Jimin,” you pant, your legs trembling. “I need more.”

“More?” Jimin pants, his expression truly fucked out. “Alright, baby.”

Lifting you off his cock, he ensures the condom is snug and positions himself on his knees. “Lie down,” Jimin demands, and you hasten to obey.

Settling on your back, you spread your thighs for Jimin to move between. Gripping your ankles, he lifts your legs upward. Pushing them towards your chest, he exposes you fully.

“So pretty,” Jimin murmurs, dragging his fingers through the slick of your folds. Switching your ankles to one hand, he lowers them to his shoulder and positions his cock at your entrance. When he pushes inside, you moan at the tightness. “Yeah, that’s it,” he coaxes, getting deeper. “You take me so well, baby.”

“Better than other girls?” you pant, the words out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Jimin goes still, then gently parts your thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Jimin leans forward until your lips brush.

“What other girls?” he murmurs, thrusting into you slowly. “Y/N. You don’t seriously think I had any interest in fucking other girls while we were apart?”

Your heart hammers as you try – and fail – to squash your insecurities. With everyone else, you have no trouble saying what you want. With Jimin though, you’re aware he could crush you with a single word. It’s harder when the stakes are as high as they are.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you did,” you whisper. “We were… broken up, and –”

Jimin bends, rolling his hips to shove his cock deeper. Your words break on a moan, legs encircling him tighter.

“I don’t want to hear that again,” Jimin says, low in your ear. “You are the only person I want, Y/N. The only one in my bed. The only pussy wrapped around this cock. The only one coming beneath me,” he murmurs with another hard thrust.

Your thighs start to shake, but you fight to keep present. Hips lifting, you match him thrust for thrust as your fingers curl in his hair. Jimin moves faster, pounding you into the bed hard enough to see stars.

“I don’t care if you slept with someone else,” he says hoarsely, reaching between you. You tremble when he circles your swollen clit. “I just want you thinking of me from now on.”

“Y-yes, Jimin!” you cry out, not sure what you’re agreeing to, but knowing you don’t want this moment to end. You don’t want this to end when the weekend is over.

His mouth crushes yours, tongue sweeping forward to match every thrust. Jimin’s scent is all around you, within you as you begin to lose track of where you end, and he begins. Your focus narrows, becoming nothing but pinpricks of building pleasure. Jimin’s cock pounds into you harder, hands grasping, breath mingling as you come undone.

Gasping his name, you clutch him tight as your pleasure explodes. Jimin coaxes you through it, keeping his fingers on your clit to ride out the tremors. Once you’re slumped, fully sated, Jimin releases the hold he had on himself. Nearly withdrawing, Jimin slams his cock forward to fill your still-spasming cunt.

You cry out, thighs widening as he lets you have it. Fucking you with full abandon, Jimin hammers your g-spot in a punishing manner. Nearly as swift as the fall, you feel your climax building. This time, your body feels beyond your control, practically weightless beneath the force of his cock in your pussy. It’s all you can do to stay conscious when another orgasm rolls through you.

Jimin groans when you come, feeling your walls flutter around his thick cock. Burying his face in your neck, Jimin thrusts deeper to release. Clasped tightly around him, you feel the warm pulse as he fills the condom. Bittersweet, you wish this wasn’t there, so he could play with his slick. Breathless and panting, the two of you lie there until Jimin withdraws.

Gathering his strength, he sits back on his heels. Removing the condom, Jimin ties this in a knot and tosses it in the trash. When he heads for the bathroom, you stretch out both arms, feeling limp.

And happy.

By the time you and Jimin trade places, your eyelids are drooping. Exiting the bathroom, you find the lights off and Jimin already in bed. You attempt to grab his t-shirt from the floor and are met with a loud throat clear.

“What are you doing?” Jimin huffs.

Straightening, you find him already in bed, the sheets pulled down beside him. Jimin looks pointedly at that side, then at you.

“I was trying to wear your t-shirt to bed,” you say, slipping between the sheets to face him. “It’s Christmas Eve, I’ll have you know. December in Washington. Brr.”

Moving closer, Jimin slips an arm over your waist. “There,” he murmurs, pulling you towards him. “Use me to warm up.”

For this, you have no retort. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers you should talk to him, that there are important things to discuss, but everything fades in the warmth of his arms. Eyelids so heavy, you can barely keep them open, you fall asleep.

For the first time in months, you sleep through the night.

You wake the next morning with a start.

Eyes wide, you stare at the wall and feel Jimin’s arm on your waist. Rather than joy though, panic claws at your throat. There were so many things you should have asked him last night. So many things you should have said instead of immediately falling into bed with your ex.

As quietly as possible, you slip free of his arm and stand from the bed. Grasping a sweatshirt and jeans, you tiptoe down the hall to swiftly get dressed. Gripping the bathroom counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror and try to sort through your feelings. Twice, you pull out your phone only to hesitate, setting it down.

Today is Christmas, meaning Namjoon and Yoongi will be with their families. Dr. Germain, your therapist, is on vacation, although you know she would respond to an emergency. This could hardly be considered an emergency, though. This is just you, acting rashly and – your heart sinks, knowing this was exactly the opposite.

You want Jimin. You’ve wanted Jimin since the night you broke up, but were so near-sighted last night, you didn’t stop to ask if he wants the same. Abruptly, you turn and open the door to the hall. Heading downstairs, you sort through the facts.

Jimin apologized for this fall. He said he regretted not staying. He said he thinks of you often, and that he hadn’t been with anyone else. If this were last year, you might read between the lines and assume he still wanted you. This isn’t last year, though. Current you has experience with expecting Jimin to do one thing, and he does another.

Dragging a hand down your face, you stop by the kitchen for coffee. The only way you’ll be able to sort through this before opening presents is with massive amounts of caffeine.

Gazing outside, you see freshly fallen snow and wonder if it’d be crazy to go for a walk. Once your coffee is full, you pad down the hallway and slip on your boots. Your coat is halfway zipped when a throat clears behind you.

Whirling around, you nearly drop the mug as Jisoo appears.

“Oh my god,” you blurt, one hand on your chest. “You scared me. I didn’t realize anyone else was awake yet.”

“Are you kidding me?” she laughs, walking closer with her own mug. “Two three-year-old daughters on Christmas? They’ve been up since the crack of dawn.”

Nervous, you laugh as your hand falls. “Ah, right. Is Hoseok keeping them in their rooms?”

Jisoo shakes her head, coming to a stop. “They fell back asleep – Hoseok, too.” Curious, she glances past you at the door. “Going for a… walk?”

“Thinking about it.”

“It’s below freezing.”

“Yeah. I thought it might help… clear my mind.”

Her brows furrow, pensive enough that you nearly curse. You couldn’t be more obvious that you and Jimin are having trouble. There’s no other reason to be up this early, trying to escape into the wilderness rather than face your ex.

Plaintive, she takes a sip of her coffee. “You know, I know you two are broken up.”

Well, fuck. Someone will have to scrape your jaw from the floor. Stunned, you stare as Jimin’s sister takes another long sip of coffee.

Seeing your face, Jisoo steps closer. “You stopped talking in the group chat,” she explains softly, patting your arm. “And Jimin… well, he seems slightly better now, but we all saw how he was after the injury.”

“I don’t… we, we’re not,” you fumble, the words dying.

“It’s okay. I get why you didn’t want to tell us. Why he didn’t want to tell us.”

At this point, it’s too late to make any denial. Jisoo has already seen the truth in your face. You suppose the important part is she hasn’t told their parents – although part of you wonders if his mom knows, as well.

“It’s been a long year,” you admit finally, your voice cracking.

“Oh, Y/N.” Setting down her mug, Jisoo pulls you into her arms. “There, there,” she exhales, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry I brought that up. I just thought… well, I thought you might want to talk to someone not my brother.”

“Thanks,” you whisper.

Patting your arm, she pulls back. “So, do you? Want to talk?”

“I…” You trail off. “It’s complicated. We broke up last September, but Jimin asked if I’d help him break the news of his contract to your parents. Things have been different this weekend, but I don’t know if Jimin is on the same page as I am. I want to get back together, but… he’s the one who asked to break up.”

Jisoo’s eyes fill with sympathy. “You should talk to him.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I know, and I will. I just… I can’t stop thinking about the last time we had a serious conversation. How badly that went.”

Understanding crosses her face. “I get that, I do.”

“He seems different. But it’s only been three months. Jimin is playing hockey so well – he seems to have his shit together, and I’m just a mess. What if I want to get back together, and he says no? Maybe this whole thing – the holidays, the hot chocolate – was just a way to say goodbye.”

Jisoo’s gives you a look. “Y/N. Listen to me – I know my brother. I knew within two seconds that you’d broken up. And I’m equally certain he still loves you – partly because my husband is a terrible secret keeper.” She shakes her head. “Apparently, Jimin asked for Hoseok’s help to win you back.”

You blink. “That… that can’t possibly be –”

Footsteps clatter downstairs, and you both turn your heads.

“Y/N,” Jimin blurts, slipping a little. His sweatpants are only half on, hopping wildly to avoid Hana’s toy on the landing. “Thank god. I thought you left,” he admits, rushing forward to grab both your arms.

Jisoo pointedly clears her throat.

Jimin glances sideways, then does a double take. “Have you been there the whole time?”

Rolling her eyes, Jisoo grabs her coffee and turns. “Merry Christmas, Jimin. Go and make up with your girlfriend.”

He watches her leave, then shakes his head, and looks back. “Are you okay?” he breathes, scanning your frame. “I woke up and you were gone. I thought…”

Putting two and two together, your eyes widen. “You thought I left.”

Jimin seems a bit queasy, but he manages to nod.

Taking another step closer, you grip his elbows. “Jimin, no,” you say. “My suitcase was still there. Didn’t you see?”

“Oh.” He blinks. “I didn’t notice.”

Oddly enough, his panic gives you the courage to speak. “I wasn’t leaving. I just wanted a walk. You know… clear my head. Think about what happened last night.”

“Are you… having second thoughts?”

“Second thoughts?” you say in disbelief. “Jimin, we never discussed a first thought. You weren’t clear about what you wanted.”

“I wasn’t clear?” His brow furrows. “Y/N, I said I didn’t want anyone but you. That you were the only person for me. I apologized for September and said that I’m trying to change. What else could I have meant?”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, but you push on. “I know,” you admit, voice catching. “It’s just… well, I thought I knew what you’d say in September, and I turned out to be wrong. I was scared, and I asked for a break, but you agreed.”

Sudden understanding dawns on his features. Jimin’s hands slide up your arms to cup your face, his gaze gentle.

“Y/N, no,” he murmurs. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. I just… didn’t want to hear what you were saying, which was that our relationship had problems. You wanted to fix those problems, and I ran away. I’m not running now, though.” Determination flickers in his gaze. “Y/N, I want to stay. Whether that’s as your boyfriend, fiancée, husband, or something else entirely – I don’t care. I just want you.”

Hearing him say this, your heart swells. Unbearable lightness spreads through you, and you take a step closer. Jimin pulls you against him, hands finding your back as he lowers his head.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmurs. “I should have been clearer last night. I was, uh, a little distracted.” Jimin huffs out a laugh.

“I’m sorry you woke up and found me gone,” you whisper, tightening your grip. “I just… didn’t want to assume, and I was scared.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not assuming, Y/N. I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I will never stop,” he adds. “So, you might as well get used to this.”

“I never stopped loving you, either. I –”

Jimin cuts you off, crushing your mouth to his. Bending at the knees, he lifts you over one shoulder and heads for the stairs. You yelp, smacking his shoulder but Jimin doesn’t stop.

“Jimin,” you laugh. “It’s Christmas! We should –”

“Celebrate our relationship at least once before everyone else gets up? Yes, agreed.”

Breath catching, you briskly nod. “Yes, yes. Good point. That.”

Laughter rumbles in his chest, carrying you down the hall and for the rest of the morning – until the twins bang on your door – you lose yourself in blissful certainty. Jimin is yours, and you’re his.

With no end in sight.

Seated beside you on the loveseat, Jimin plays with your fingers, entwined in his lap. With his other arm, Jimin brings you closer to brush a kiss to your temple.

Smiling, you face him. “What’re you doing, Mr. Park?” you lowly scold. “You do know we’re not alone, right?”

Jimin lowers his nose to your hair. “More’s the pity,” he murmurs.

Heat flushes through you, but he sits back in his seat. The Christmas Eve party this year is at the ski lodge again, and all of his friends have gathered in the same spot. Tonight though, you sit beside him with a ring on your finger. Jimin barely made it to the playoffs before he proposed.

Thumb brushing over the stone in the center, Jimin can’t help but smile. From far across the room comes the sound of Jungkook booing.

“We get it,” he calls, hands cupped over his mouth. “You two are disgustingly happy. Get a room, why don’t you?”

“We will,” you call back, snuggling into Jimin’s side. “Later.”

Seokjin laughs and elbows Jungkook’s ribs. “You’re only annoyed because you’re the only single guy left.”

Jungkook pouts and sits back. “True. What’s that all about? Why’d you have to bring a super cool, amazing date to the party this year?”

Seokjin’s date, Nova, laughs. “Thanks? I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” Jungkook nods, then faces you and Jimin. “But seriously, you two seem very happy and I’m glad for you both.”

Jimin blinks. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Jungkook casually crosses his arms. “Your current level of happiness will make it all the sweeter when I kick your ass in the playoffs this year, Park.”

When you snort-laugh, Jimin gives you a look. Said look makes you squirm against him on the sofa, though no one else seems to notice.

“Yeah.” Drily, Jimin looks at Jungkook. “Because that worked out so well for you last year.”

“Ohhh,” Hoseok calls, entering the room with Jisoo on his arm. She’s noticeably pregnant, with a due date next month. “He got you there, Kook. Remember when you lost and now, you and Jimin are tied for Stanley Cup wins?”

Jungkook stares at him blankly. “Hm, no. Don’t recall.”

The entire room laughs, conversation shifting to topics other than the NHL. Squeezing Jimin’s thigh, you snuggle closer and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I am, though,” he murmurs.

You glance upward. “You are what?”

“Happy.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Happy you gave me a second chance. Happy to choose you, again and again.”

Breath hitching, your fingers tighten in his. “Easiest choice I’ve ever made.”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so, so much for reading! HAPPY HOLIDAYS to anyone who celebrates!

#bangtanarmynet #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin smut #bts smut #jimin fic #bts fic #jimin au #bts au

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 4.7k | chapter 2 of 4

Then

The Todoroki house was the most interesting place you had ever been.

At home it was just you and your mom, and most of the time she was working, or recovering from working, but the Todoroki house was packed with children from wall to wall. There was almost never a dull minute—except when Todoroki Enji came home and everyone got stiff and weird—but when he wasn’t around, you found you preferred the Todoroki mansion to the loneliness of your own empty house.

Touya seemed to sense this, and deigned to invite you over often, enough that you found yourself following him home after school at least once a week.

After the first time, you’d been introduced to his other siblings, Fuyumi and Natuso, who were both much nicer than Touya, and notably far more talkative. Shouto was a near-constant too, almost always propped on his mother’s hip when you arrived home, and always eager to be handed off to you, enough that you could tell Touya was annoyed.

“You’re not even related,” he complained, and you hid a smile at his barely-couched jealousy.

“I’m just better than you,” you told him, sticking your tongue out, dodging when he tried to grab it. You’d never had siblings, and you’d been forced to learn quickly that nothing was off-limits to people with younger siblings. Revenge would always be exacted.

Even when Shouto got older, old enough to talk in complete sentences and toddle about on his own, he seemed to prefer your company. You and Touya were almost never left alone to play on your own, Shouto always in the room with you, almost velcroed to your side.

He was on the floor next to you in the living room on one such occasion, Touya absolutely destroying you in Super Mario, when Rei called Touya in from the kitchen.

Touya rolled his eyes, pausing and flinging his controller at your head with the manner of someone who hoped it actually connected. “Don’t restart while I’m gone or I’ll kill you.”

You saluted him as he stomped out, taking a minute to stretch out from where you’d sat hunched over your controller. You bumped Shouto as you did, and he looked up at you from his coloring book, where he was shading in a pair of penguins in hot pink.

“Nice choice,” you told him, and Shouto looked a little bit like he was trying not to preen.

“Izuku in my class says penguins mate for life, like us,” he said, authoritatively.

You blinked, your brain snagging on the like us. Alphas, betas, and omegas could mate for life, and were generally expected to, but that didn’t always quite play out if you didn’t find your life mate. Your mother was a near-hand example, your father having left her while you were still in swaddling clothes, only to pass away a short few years later. They hadn’t been life mates, you’d come to realize recently—though your mother still believed in them. You hoped she’d find hers still, someday.

You thought maybe, however, that you were not going to hold out hope for your own, if it was as tricky as it seemed.

“You know not everyone does, right?” you asked, peering down at Shouto.

Wide, guileless eyes stared back up at you. Shouto had lost a little of his baby fat recently, but absolutely none of his sweetness.

“Who does not?” he demanded, sitting back on his haunches.

You fiddled with the controller in your fingers, wondering suddenly if you should have brought this up with him. “Some people. My parents didn’t,” you said, cautiously.

Shouto’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Your parents?”

You shook your head. “Sometimes people don’t find them even after all of the mating runs.”

Shouto did not look pleased with this. His eyes roved over you, pinning on you with a sort of sudden, unnerving intensity. “Sometimes people go on mating runs. And their life mate is not there because they are too young to go yet.”

You blinked, surprised by the specificity of this conclusion. “Sometimes, probably, yeah.”

Shouto’s tiny frown deepened, and he carefully arranged himself up against your side. “You will wait though, right?”

Your hand found its way unthinkingly into his hair, ruffling it. He was a sweet kid. “I mean, people usually go through more than one mating run, right?”

Shouto pressed more insistently into your side. “You will keep going until your life mate is there, though.”

You had an image of yourself, greying and eighty, slowly wobbling on your cane through the preserve. You suppressed a laugh. “I’ll go as I can until I age out, how about that?”

Shouto nodded, satisfied. His crayon resumed on the penguins, fiery pink streaking across the page. “I will be there,” he pronounced definitively.

His decisive tone startled a laugh out of you. You grinned down at him, unable to help the urge to ruffle his hair again. “I’ll stick around until we can run together. Although you better get good at climbing trees.”

Shouto blinked, his mouth pursing in puzzlement. “Trees,” he repeated to himself.

You nodded. “If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate.”

You would not be like your parents. You would not settle, and you would be realistic about your prospects.

Shouto’s eyes tracked across your face once more, like he was committing the statement to memory.

“You’re welcome to come up with me,” you said. You couldn’t imagine Shouto as anything other than an omega like his mom, not with that sweet little face. You didn’t like the idea of some alpha trying to get at him, so it was better he stay safe in your tree with you.

The thought suddenly rankled, and you decided you were done with this discussion. Better not to think of Shouto all grown up and spirited away from everyone until you absolutely had to.

You tapped a finger on Shouto’s coloring book, turning him back to it. “Anyway. Tell me about the other animals in here? Did Izuku tell you about any of these?”

Shouto looked down at the page, his expression shifting seriously. “This is a killer whale,” he said, pointing to a corner of the page he’d colored in with a blob of forest green. “They are related to dolphins. They are the biggest dolphin in the world.”

You nodded, relaxing back on your hands, gesturing for him to go on.

Shouto took his job very seriously, explaining solemnly and in great detail all the animals on the page, the way he sometimes described all his toys to you. You let him go on, finding that you liked listening to Shouto talk—he was rarely so wordy, but he was easy and familiar and funny in how seriously he took everything.

You laid back and listened to him, hoping Touya took a little extra time in the kitchen. Shouto looked pleased to have your attention, and soon enough you found yourself dozing, your head against his little thigh, content with Shouto’s sweet little voice washing over you.

In Shouto’s company, the Todoroki house felt a lot like home.

Now

Your beloved mother woke you in the morning ramming the vacuum into the door of your old bedroom-turned-storage room.

You groaned from your air mattress, your old bed frame sold off already to pay a gas bill. You missed that thing.

“Only a week together and you were out all day yesterday,” your mother said when you emerged from your old room, shooting you a look that immediately made you feel like a teenager again. She was wearing one of your old sweatshirts, that she’d clearly commandeered because she’d missed you.

Your heart squeezed a little at the familiar sight of her, but not enough to curb your morning fussiness.

“Maybe I was out scoping alphas to pounce on during the run,” you said, shuffling towards the kitchen and the promise of coffee.

“You were out with the mayor’s son,” she said, sniffing. A small smile pulled at your mouth—she had pettily refused to call Touya by his name for years.

She’d been thrilled by your friendship with him when you were kids. From the outside, Touya had looked like a beautiful little boy from a well-to-do family. You knew she’d once held out hope for your friendship to turn into something more, to see you settled into a well-off family and taken good care of.

For your part, however, you’d been drawn to Touya but never interested in that way, and you knew Touya felt the same. And things had only gotten more complicated when Touya’s mental health had crumbled like dirt under his father’s heel, and even worse when the Todoroki family fire broke out; Touya’s extensive burns damaged his glands and destroyed any evidence of his secondary gender before he’d even presented. Though, personally, you’d always suspected he was an omega. He was showy, flashy, possessed of that classic omega need for praise and attention—not quite to your tastes.

You thought you probably preferred someone a little more lowkey, someone steady and easy. Definitely not Touya.

There was also the fact that his efforts as of late seemed directed at the one quarter of your friend group with blonde, fluffy hair. Though you knew Touya would rather burn his remaining skin off before admitting it.

Either way, your mother’s hopes of a marriage into the Todoroki family were dashed, along with her opinion of Todoroki Enji when things finally came to head, and she’d never quite forgiven Touya for it.

“Touya says hello,” you answered distractedly, fiddling around with the coffee machine, though of course Touya had said no such thing. “I saw Rei though, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto. Did you know Shouto is a firefighter now? He’s gotten so big.”

“An alpha?” your mom’s voice floated out from the living room, her eagerness not quite suppressed.

You laughed, though a tiny, strange sort of spark lit up your spine. “Mom, I’m a couple years too old for him. I’m like his grandma.”

“Oh you are not, you dramatic thing,” you heard her sniff.

“Our first date could be at my bingo hall,” you carried on over the hiss of the water boiling, the dribble of coffee into the pot. “And we could get drunk on our prune juice, and I could slide out my dentures waiting for him to kiss me—”

“I’m going to sell you,” your mother said, her vacuum starting up again pointedly. You heard the distinct thump of it being rammed into a couch leg and grinned.

You knew she wanted to see you settled because she loved you, wanted to see you taken care of in all the ways that she hadn’t been. Your father had let her down years before he’d even passed, which you thought should have besmirched any alpha’s good name in your mother’s book. But she was determined to believe in love and life mates despite it all, and you admired her for it. She was a stubborn thing.

You spent the morning helping her do chores, clambering up onto the counters and getting all the places she couldn’t regularly reach, hauling out her trash and googling your way through some low-level repairs. You shared a quick breakfast in between, dodging more questions about the mating run, before returning to cleaning.

You were covered in dust and a thin layer of Lysol by the time you remembered you’d promised to meet Shouto at the fire station for lunch. There was not enough time to change or shower if you wanted to pick something up on the way, and you supposed it was well enough that Shouto did not actually possess the level of interest in you that your mother might have wanted him to.

“Going to see my child bride,” you told your mom on the way out, laughing and dodging a sponge.

The walk to the fire station took the better part of forty-five minutes, including a long interlude spent hemming and hawing over the prepared foods section of the grocery store before you finally settled on cold soba—Shouto’s favorite from when you were younger, if you remembered correctly.

The fire station itself was an older, whitewashed multi-story building, set back from the main road. The garage doors were open in the warming spring air, the bright red of the fire engines clearly visible from blocks away. You must have been visible from blocks away, too, because Shouto stepped out as you turned onto the drive, the dark blue of his stationwear stark against his skin.

Your heart did a strange lurching motion in your chest, and you pointedly did not let your eyes linger on the way his uniform belted in at his hips, highlighting the trimness of his waist and the breadth of his shoulders. Nope.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, holding up your bag of spoils. “You still like soba, right?”

Shouto blinked, his eyelashes fluttering. Long fingers touched the bag, hefting it carefully from your grip. “You remember.”

You grinned up at him. “How could I forget? Especially because I was there when you had it for the first time. You flung some at Touya from your high chair and it ended up on me instead.”

Shouto looked embarrassed, a pink flush spreading prettily across the tops of his high cheekbones. “I do not believe you.”

“Uh huh,” you said.

Shouto’s mouth pulled into what might have been a nonexpression on anyone else, but was most definitely a pout on him. Cute.

“I can reassure you there will be no soba flung today,” he promised, his deep voice earnest. Then he paused. “Touya is not in range.”

A surprised laugh escaped you, and the edge of Shouto’s lips pulled. He looked pleased with himself for having drawn it out of you. He’d always made you laugh, even as a kid—though mostly for how incongruously serious he was as a child, even about the silliest things. But also for how he seemed able to press people’s buttons—Touya’s especially—just by existing.

Shouto gestured you inside, and you studied the firetrucks as you passed them, mostly so you did not watch the way Shouto’s shoulders shifted beneath his shirt.

When he caught your look of curiosity, Shouto led you over to one, opening the door for you to take a look inside. You peered at all the knobs and switches interestedly, leaning into the cab. It looked complex, and yet very familiar. It actually looked a lot like the toy fire truck that once spent a fair amount of time occupying the inside of baby Shouto’s mouth.

You glanced back, opening your mouth to tell Shouto as much, when suddenly two large hands were at your waist, warm and sure. They lifted you right into the driver’s seat like it was absolutely no effort.

You fell into the cab, suddenly winded. You whipped around to stare at Shouto, heart hammering with the casual display of alpha strength, unable to help the wide-eyed look you knew you were giving him. That was—that was—not allowed.

“Am I—can I be—in here?” you garbled out, trying not to make obvious the real reason for your sudden disorientation.

Shouto stepped up onto the wheel plate to lean into the cab beside you, bringing in a puff of that scent like campfire on a cold day. “Yes,” he answered, looking unbothered with how close his face was to yours.

You watched him helplessly, brain fogging with his proximity and his scent. He was very, very pretty up close. He’d grown into what had to be the most beautiful person you’d actually ever seen—his mother’s looks, dialed up to an eleven. The deliberate alpha edge to him should have been at odds with that delicate sensuality—but instead it was like his secondary gender sat on him like a beam of sunlight, highlighting his beauty.

It was totally at conflict with the round, pudgy little thing he’d been when you’d first seen him, the lanky preteen you’d left him as.

He felt so familiar and yet so strangely new. It was disconcerting.

You quickly averted your gaze, making a show of leaning in over all the dials and buttons. Shouto leaned right over your lap, his chest warm against your legs, patiently explaining what each one did in his low, calm tone. The depth of his voice was so shocking, but the tone so similar to what it had been—you could remember him explaining animals in his coloring book to you in much the same level of careful detail once.

Your head spun with the dichotomy. Baby Shouto, a lifetime away, and adult alpha Shouto here in front of you—

You hurriedly pushed the thought of adult alpha Shouto down before you could think too deeply on it. That was off limits.

When you’d had your fill and Shouto had managed to make sure you didn’t accidentally deploy the ladder in the station itself, he helped you down from the cab, his hands hot on your waist.

“I’m old but still spry enough to get myself down, young man,” you told him as he settled you back on the station floor. Your heartbeat felt like it was somewhere around your throat.

“I did not hear your bones creak at least,” Shouto said, startling you into a laugh again.

His mouth twitched as he led you further into the station, giving you a short tour of the gear racks, the office, the laundry room and fitness room stuffed with several of his coworkers, a room that smelled overwhelmingly of clashing alpha scents, none nearly as good as Shouto’s.

A cheery red head waved to you from the leg press, that Shouto introduced as Kirishima, and a blonde alpha greeted him with a towel whipped directly at Shouto’s face. Shouto ducked it with the ease of long practice.

“Oi halfie, who the fuck told you you could eat the cookies I brought in?” the blonde demanded, barely sparing you an acknowledging glace as he reracked a mind-bogglingly enormous set of weights.

Shouto introduced him anyway, in a deliberately bland tone that you immediately recognized as one he deployed to rile up Touya. “This is Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Answer the damn question,” Bakugou said.

Shouto blinked long and slow and absolutely meant to annoy. You hid a smile. “Am I expected to fight fires on an empty stomach,” Shouto said, flatter than a question.

“I’ll fucking show you an empty stomach when I rip out your—”

“You must be Y/N,” Kirishima said loudly from the leg press. You instantly clocked a beta disruption technique at work and smiled at him.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, searching for something to reply with, uniting in his peace-keeping mission. “That’s—an impressive amount of weight.”

“Thanks!” Kirishima said brightly.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught Shouto’s head snapping towards you, and you looked back to find his eyes narrowed on you.

“I can press as much,” Shouto said, his tone insistent. He crowded a little closer to you.

Your eyebrows crept towards your hairline, mystified. “I—that’s—great?”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth, and a disgusted sound issued from Bakugou’s corner of the gym. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. Take this shit right outta here,” Bakugou demanded.

Shouto ignored him, still staring at you. He pressed closer, his shoulders shifting so that he was angled between you and Kirishima, obscuring most of your line of sight.

“I—mean you definitely look like you can press, um, a lot,” you continued, bewildered. “The only pressing I do is, uh, french press.”

The frown evaporated from Shouto’s expression, something suddenly pleased descending over it instead. Beyond him, you thought you could see Kirishima smiling, mouthing you look like you can press a lot to Bakugou, and an answering eye-roll from Bakugou. Oh god. Had you said that?

Your face heated, and you immediately decided an evacuation was in order. “Well thanks for letting us interrupt you. Nice to meet you guys. Shouto—should we—?”

Shouto’s hand found the small of your back, gently guiding you. All thought of Kirishima and Bakugou suddenly evaporated under the feeling of that hot palm, and you barely managed another wave as Shouto shadowed you out of the room. He led you up a flight of stairs to the dorm area, where several more of his coworkers were arrayed, chatting over their own lunches.

Face still sort of warm, you helped Shouto unpack the soba and the various side dishes you’d grabbed. He disappeared further into the kitchen and returned with glasses of water and the appropriate utensils, arraying everything in front of you.

“So this is going to be your first run,” you said conversationally, after you’d taken your first bite of soba. “Got any lucky omega in mind?”

Shouto’s eyes darted up from his chopsticks to your face, grey and blue pinning you. “I have… someone in mind,” he said, after a moment.

A strange twinge made itself known in your chest again. You ignored it, shoving more noodles into your mouth determinedly.

“I am sure you will have absolutely no trouble, but I am happy to give you a quick rundown of all the usual hiding spots anyway,” you said. “Most omegas actually end up not too far into the preserve because they want to be caught, so it should be pretty easy.”

One of Shouto’s brows quirked the tiniest bit. “I have reason to believe I’ll need to follow at least a few miles.”

You felt your own eyebrows lift. Not too many omegas went super far in, unless they were looking to avoid someone or pose a real challenge. You went miles in specifically for that reason as well—to steer clear of the action, not that it was likely to find you anyway—and get up your tree before anyone came looking.

“There’s fewer spots that far out because the brush gets all scraggly at the coast,” you said. “There’s a few outcroppings though that I’ve seen omegas go for. You really think your intended will go that far?”

Shouto considered you for a long moment, those mismatched eyes roving over you. “I do.”

Whoever it was, they were going to make him work for it, huh? You suppressed a growing spot of offense on his behalf.

“And you’re sure about this person?” you asked.

Shouto nodded. “I have been sure since I was very small.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the same time as your stomach seemed to drop. That was very sweet—and also strangely disheartening to hear.

Why was that disheartening?

“Then—do you think they’re for sure your life mate?” you asked, taking a careful, studied sip of water.

“I do,” Shouto answered. The simplicity of his statement spoke for itself. You were a beta and did not have quite the same capacity to detect your mate as an alpha, but you knew alphas always knew. You wondered if he’d always known he was going to end up an alpha if he’d had that instinctive understanding since he was young.

You wondered why he’d never said anything, all those years you’d grown up together.

Your heart did a strange dip, sinking at the same time it lifted for him.

“I’m really happy for you Shouto. I’m glad I came back just in time to see you find happiness, when it feels like I have already missed so much else,” you told him.

Shouto leaned forward, catching your eye. His gaze was serious where it caught yours. “I am glad you came back, too. You have been… missed,” he said.

Your heartbeat fluttered, and you gripped the edge of the table, trying to quell the feeling. It would not do to be too overwhelmed by Shouto. Not now.

You managed a smile, and quickly rerouted the conversation back to the hiding spots you knew, and the forest trails you’d seen most omegas utilize. Shouto watched you carefully, and you hoped he was committing the information to memory.

After that the conversation turned to more innocuous topics, a rehashing of some of your shared childhood memories, some picking on Touya. The soba disappeared between the two of you, as well as all the side dishes you’d brought. Shouto was incredibly easy to talk to, you found—a fascinating blend of the earnest, slight shit-stirrer of a little boy you’d known and a blandly funny adult man. He had some of Touya’s underlying propensity towards intensity, and some of his mother’s thoughtful sweetness—and you liked the way the familiar traits blended into something faceted and interesting.

He really had grown up.

After lunch he let you explore more of the station, showing you all the compartments on the fire engines, explaining all the equipment. On the way to the door he also let you rifle through the gear bays, showing you his own rack of turnout gear.

He even let you try his jacket on, looking like he was suppressing a smile when the heaviness of it weighed your arms down, watching you flap your arms around, marveling as what was easily twenty pounds of heat-proof fabric resisted you.

No wonder he needed such an intense workout routine.

You couldn’t help but be amazed by it all—who Shouto had turned into, and the fact that he had such an impressive job, one that fit him so well. The fact that he was an adult now, with goals and ambitions that were a lot more grounded than yours. The fact that he was an alpha of all things, and could lift you up into a firetruck as easily as you’d once lifted him off Touya’s hip.

It was so much to contemplate, and you watched him, helplessly fascinated, as he led you around.

You lingered for long enough that the sky was tinging pink and orange by the time you left, and Shouto saw you to the door, insisting on plugging in his number to your phone so you could text when you got home. You could still feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner down the street, a strange warmth suffusing you as you walked. It kept you warm the entire way home, despite the cool evening air.

It was only when you arrived at your mother’s front door, shooting off your promised text to Shouto that you realized that you were mooning like a girl returning home from a date—a completely embarrassing, inappropriate tact for your mind to take with someone who had been your childhood friend. Your childhood junior.

Besides, Shouto had explicitly said he had someone in mind already, someone he intended to follow during the run. And you were too old for him, and a beta as well. Alpha-beta couplings were rare—and if Shouto had known who his life mate was since he was very small, and never given any indication it was a beta—well that spoke for itself.

You shook your head as you let yourself in through the door, trying to slough off the feeling as you called a greeting to your mother. It was sad you’d never get to haul him up a tree after you, the way you’d promised when you were kids. But such was life, you guessed.

Shouto may have grown up into an admirable man and a beautiful alpha—but he was off limits to you. You’d make sure you treated him with nothing but the respect and friendly fondness he deserved. Nothing else.

Absolutely nothing else.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x midoriya #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #shouto x y/n #shouto x you #shoto x reader #shoto x you

[smileysuh]

sapiosexual

🌙 staring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. “You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman, and you’re agreeing to be a companion to some middle aged psych nut who hardly has enough time for you-” you both laugh a little at the way he refers to himself, “compensation is a must.”

cw/ tw. daddy kink/issues, size/shoulder/back kink, contractual relationship, unspecified age difference, unprotected sex, choking, semi bondage, multiple sex scenes, fingering, squirting, oral (m/f receiving), baby oil massage, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, overstim, dacryphilia, slight orgasm denial, hand kink, etc... I pet names. his: daddy. hers: gorgeous, angel, darling, my love, pretty girl, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 18.6k

🍭 aus. psychologist au, non idol au, sugar daddy au, aged up/soft dom cheol, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. dont fuck your psychologist, fuck a psychologist... and try to get a cheque while you do it 👀 (sapiosexual: the attraction to intelligence and broad af shoulders)

1: Wednesday

“I’m here to meet someone- under the name Choi?”

The hostess nods politely. “Mister Choi has been expecting you, right this way.”

Your heart lurches in your chest at her words. While it makes sense that the man you’re meeting for your date had let the host know he’d have a plus one joining him, there’s something in the woman’s diction that suggests a certain kind of familiarity. 

The restaurant you’re in is an expensive one, and the previous man you’d met through the online sugar dating website had made something of a show of being a part owner of a place such as this, treating the staff in a way that demanded obedience- 

You really hope, for everyone’s sake, that the person you’re meeting tonight is much kinder than the last.

The hostess takes you through the main dining section of the establishment and to a more secluded area, where she motions with a hand to the one occupied table by the windows that overlook the city. 

“Your server will come by for your drink order shortly,” she tells you, giving you a quick nod and something of a knowing smile before she returns to her post, allowing you to make the final distance to the table yourself.

The man sitting with his back to you hasn’t turned around, and you take a moment to collect yourself, swallowing thickly. Your eyes scan over his broad shoulders, taking in the pretty tweed suit, the colour of charcoal, and neatly styled black hair. 

You take a deep breath and begin forward.

“Sorry I’m late,” you apologize as you reach the man you’ve been in contact with just under a week- “you know how traffic can be-”

Your words feel jumbled in your mouth as Mr. Choi stands to greet you- because, although you’d been expecting a handsome man, you hadn’t been expecting him to be godlike-

The photos he’d had on the sugar dating site had been ten out of tens, but the man in front of you is a scale breaker. 

He’s even broader up close, and tall too- looking down at you with an amused expression, eyes practically twinkling-

“It’s alright,” he tells you smoothly, voice sexier than you could have ever imagined, “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me too,” you breathe, blinking up at him, etching his angelic features into your brain-

“You look beautiful,” Mr. Choi says, taking in the dress you’d spent three hours picking out-

His eyes don’t linger anywhere in particular, they’re quick to move back up to your face, and part of you almost wishes he’d stared at your chest just a little longer-

“Thank you,” you say, remembering you’ve yet to respond to his compliment.

“Would you like to sit?” he asks next, and you realize you’ve been staring too long, quickly tearing your gaze from him to give a curt nod. 

The two of you take your seats, and you adjust in your chair, letting out a shaky laugh. “I’m also sorry if I’m a little awkward- I feel like my social skills took a hit during the pandemic.” 

The man in front of you nods. “That’s understandable. The aftereffects of global isolation during covid is something that’s going to be studied by psychologists in depth in the coming years. You’re not alone in your feelings, believe me.”

You blink, thinking through his words. “Thank you-” you stutter, “for the reassurance, I mean.”

“Of course,” he nods again. “I think you’ll find I can be very reassuring, if need be.” 

Your skin tingles, and you can’t believe that you’d nearly let your best friend talk you out of this date.

‘Psychologists can be dangerous!’ Seungkwan had insisted, ‘One moment you think he’s your boyfriend, the next he’s hypnotized you to cover up a murder-’

You’d told him to stop rewatching Hannibal.

But you have to admit… Mr. Choi, or Seungcheol, as he’d called himself when he’d first messaged you, he definitely looks like Hannibal. 

Broad, handsome, tweed suit and all-

“I can see you’re thinking hard about something,” the man sitting across from you notes.

“Sorry, I was just-” you bite at your lip, “was just thinking that you’re probably really good at your job.”

His brows raise at this, and then he’s smiling, “Oh?”

“Yeah, you erm- you have a really calming voice and presence, and I mean- obviously you know what you’re talking about-”

“Are you in the market for a psychologist?” 

“No-” you answer quickly, “I mean, I don’t think so- that’s not why I matched with you at least.” 

The amused smile remains on his face, and it’s making it hard for you to look at him- 

He keeps his gaze so fixed on you, and he exudes confidence on top of the calm- 

Confidence that’s making your heart thump louder and louder in your chest-

“Hello, Mr. Choi,” the arrival of your waiter breaks the building tension you’re feeling. The question “How has your evening been so far?” confirms that Seungcheol knows the staff, and the pleasant way in which he responds tells you that you’re on a date with a good man. 

After a brief back and forth, Mr. Choi orders himself an Old Fashioned, and you ask for a gin and tonic.

Then, you’re once more alone with the man whose gaze is enough to have your pussy clenching with interest-

“I saw you were new to the site,” Seungcheol notes, and you can’t believe he’d bothered to look for that information on your profile, let alone remember it. “How’s your experience been so far?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding. “If I’m being honest, I talked to one person for a while, and when we met, he turned out to be- just- not a good person. So when you favourited me, and I thought you looked nice, I told myself it would be better to meet up in person without too much back and forth first.” 

“That sounds logical,” he agrees. “I’m sorry your first experience wasn’t what you thought it would be, but there is a silver lining, you’re here now.” 

“I’m here now,” you echo with a smile, and the waiter returns with your beverages.

Seungcheol had invited you for drinks and dessert. Seungkwan had insisted that meant drinks and sex, but your view of things is proved to be correct when Mr. Choi orders the ‘dessert tasting menu’ and the waiter scurries off again. 

“Should we make a toast?” you ask, allowing your eyes to trail over Seungcheol’s handsome face- his strong brow and pretty lips-

“We should,” he confirms, grabbing his glass and lifting it, “what would you like to toast to?”

“Being here now.”

“To being here now.” Seungcheol allows the lip of his glass to clink gently against your own before bringing it to his mouth, and you each drink to the moment.

“So,” you say when you set your cup down, “why drinks and dessert instead of dinner?”

“Dinners can be long, and full of expectations,” he tells you. “Drinks and dessert allows you to leave earlier, if you’d like to.”

“You seem like the kind of man who has everything figured out,” you muse.

The side of his mouth quirks into a charming half smile, and he leans forward slightly in his chair, assessing you with dark eyes- “Does that excite you?”

“Yes-” the word slips out before you can stop it.

The man in front of you leans back, satisfied. 

“What, exactly, are you looking for right now?” he prompts. “Your bio was… somewhat vague.”

“I guess-” you take a sip of your drink. “I guess it depends on who it is.”

“How about you start by telling me your thought process behind creating an account,” he suggests.

You’re momentarily distracted by the way his thumb rubs up and down the side of his cup- dragging through droplets of condensation gathered on the glass-

“My best friend loves Marilyn Monroe,” you find yourself saying.

This is clearly not the answer Seungcheol had expected, as he quirks that inquisitive brow of his at your words, and you’re quick to continue. 

“His favourite movie of hers is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes- and I’m not kidding, he’s been bleaching his hair since the tenth grade because of it- and there’s this quote- something like- ‘it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man.’ And I just sort of thought- I’m tired of putting a lot into relationships with people who give nearly nothing in return. At least with something like this- I’d be guaranteed something- you know?”

“It sounds like you’ve spent a lot of your life trying to make other people happy,” he notes smoothly. “I can understand why you’d want to be on the receiving end. Everyone deserves reciprocation.” 

He pauses, swirling his glass, but you can tell there’s something else on his mind, and you wait on the edge of your seat for more.

“From what you’ve said,” his thumb runs up the glass again, “it sounds to me like you’re looking for a contractual type of situation, moreso than a verbal agreement. Something with that added stability.”

“That’s correct,” you nod.

The last man hadn’t ever brought up contracts or boundaries or any of the things that are mentioned when you’d looked up what sugar babying entails. 

You’re enthralled by the professional way Mr. Choi is handling himself, and you’re enjoying his crystal clear communication.

“What-” you lick your lips, “what are you looking for?” 

“As you know, I’m a psychologist,” he states. “The job comes with a lot of responsibility. I take care of a number of people with quite severe conditions, and unfortunately, regardless of my intentions, this means I’ve had less time and energy to give to people in my own life.”

He pauses to take a breath and a sip of his whisky before continuing.

“I had a fiance for a time, but it became clear to me that she wanted a child. At the time, I wasn't ready to give up my work to be present in the way a developing mind would need. I’ve been looking for a sugar baby who would understand my lifestyle. Someone to meet with once or twice a week, who would provide happy company and the emotional closeness all human beings desperately need, without some of the… expectations that traditional relationships have. Does this sound like something that could interest you?”

You find yourself quickly nodding.

“Good,” he smiles warmly at you. “I’d love to explore the exact details of a contract over drinks, and we can choose a day to do that, but for now, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to switch the topic and focus on you a little more.”

“On me?” you blink- 

Mr. Choi’s grin widens, and the warmth meets his eyes. “Yes, you. I think it’s safe to say we’re both physically attracted to each other, but I want to know more about who you are, inside that pretty body of yours.”

You can feel your skin heating from his compliment, and you avert your gaze, grabbing at your drink to take a sip and cool yourself. “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the things that make you happiest.”

2: Thursday

“Look who finally decided to answer,” your best friend sighs loudly when you put him on speaker, and you can imagine his classic Seungkwan eye roll.

“I was sleeping,” you tell him, which only succeeds in earning you a scoff.

“And I have been waiting for details about your date since last night!” 

“I sent you a text saying it was good!”

“And then you put your phone on silent you whore!” your best friend screams, making you laugh at his antics- then his voice dips. “Did you fuck him?” 

“No, of course not-”

“You sound like you’re lying.”

“I’m not, I promise-” you roll onto your back and look up at your ceiling, letting out a breath. “Drinks and dessert literally meant drinks and dessert.” 

“Did he at least- I don’t know, feed you some of the dessert?”

“No.” 

“Oh.” The line is quiet for a moment. “Well that’s anti-climactic.”

You laugh. “First you wanted me going on dates with sugar daddies, then you were weird about Seungcheol, now you’re wishing I had fucked him-” 

“Well- did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Was he hot?”

You groan. “So fucking hot you don’t even know-” 

“Then I do wish you’d fucked him- you’re my best friend, and you deserve to get laid,” Seungkwan says plainly. “Also- I was only weird about this Seungcheol guy because he’s a therapist-”

“Psychologist.”

“Same thing- the point is, he’s a guy with power and a brain- that can be a deadly combination.” 

“I thought I told you to stop watching Hannibal,” you smile, enjoying the way Seungkwan turns everything into life or death.

He scoffs at your words, disregarding them. “So tell me about your date.”

“Like I said, it was good. I got there, we ordered drinks, he’s obviously like- super smart. We talked a little bit about why we’re on the site-”

“Why is he on the site? If he’s hot, rich, and smart?” Seungkwan asks. “Shouldn’t he be with- I don’t know… someone his own age? How old was he again?”

“Mid to late thirties- and there’s a reason for it actually. He mentioned a fiance who wanted kids- I think women ‘his age’ are all looking for a family, but he’s very… invested in his work,” you explain.

 “Oh. Huh.” You listen to the cogs in Seungkwan’s brain turning. “So- I guess he just wants a sugar baby to work around his busy schedule?”

“He’s looking for a companion-” you say, “but, you know, someone who can handle the fact that his work comes first.” 

“Right.” A beat, then; “So did you guys talk money?” 

“Seungkwan!”

“What!?” he yells back. “Quit beating around the bush!” 

“He didn’t just- whip a wad of cash out and give it to me,” you laugh. “He paid for everything of course, and we agreed to discuss a contract over drinks-”

“When?”

“Actually-” you look down at your phone, which has just buzzed, scanning the new text. “Coincidently, he’s texting me now.”

“Oooh! What’s he saying?!” 

“He said, ‘I really enjoyed your company last night. Would you like to join me for drinks tomorrow at eight?’” 

“Wow, this dude works fast- are you sure you didn’t suck him off or anything?”

“Seungkwan!” 

“I just mean- two dates in three days- this is fast.”

“Yeah well,” you shrug while texting out a confirmation response for Seungcheol, “if you’d seen Mr. Choi in person, you’d be hoping things go fast too.”

“Is he really that sexy? This isn’t just- your old man kink?”

“I dont have an old man kink-”

“Sure you don’t.”

You groan. “Seungkwan, just trust me. This man-” you swallow thickly, “he could choke me out- and I’d say thank you daddy.”

“Right, but let’s hope he doesn’t though.” 

3: Friday

Part of you isn’t surprised that Seungcheol has a study in his home, but another part of you wonders if this man is really someone you should be entertaining, with his shelves of psychology texts and autobiographies written by renowned people in his field- and the framed degrees and papers of certification-

Seungcheol is the real deal; it’s clear as day and reflected in his home.

He gives you a tour of the main floor, moving from the study to the dining room, and despite your ardent attempt at listening- it’s hard to focus. 

If he’d been godlike in the charcoal tweed suit when you’d first met him- well, you don’t even know how to describe how well he fits into a plain white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose strong, bulky forearms- and then there’s the way the material stretches over his deliciously broad shoulders every time he turns his back to you-

“Now that I’ve given you a small tour, why don’t you take a seat,” he says as you enter his kitchen. “And I’ll grab us drinks. What are you feeling? Wine, water, beer, champagne-”

“Whatever you think is best,” you tell him, a little overwhelmed by the effect his home is having on you- 

The effect he is having on you. 

“I think I’d like to give you champagne,” he says, turning his back to you to open his fridge.

You find yourself nearly drooling at the brief moments you’re able to gawk at his shoulders again- and when he faces you, your eyes immediately zero in on his hands as they begin to fiddle with the bottle-

“Has anyone ever talked you through opening a bottle of champagne before?” he asks.

Your eyes meet briefly and you feel your skin heat when you admit, “not really- is there a specific way to do it?”

“I’m not sure if there’s one specific way,” Seungcheol chuckles a little, looking down at his task. “At ceremonies, sometimes they’ll use a sword and knock the top of the neck clean off- but for our purposes, and to avoid breaking anything with the cork if it shoots off, I prefer utilizing the cork cage,” he runs his fingers across the metal contraption on top of the bottle. “The trick is to unwind it most of the way, but keep it on so when you manuever the cork up-” his thumb runs along the seem, working at it- “it pops,” there’s a loud sound, “but it gets caught by the cork cage, and then, both are easily removed.”

He’d done the motion so professionally- a man who’s opened many a champagne bottle in his time. 

Seungcheol seems to be an expert of everything - a true wealth of knowledge - and it’s one of the sexiest things you’ve ever experienced. 

You watch him pour two glasses of the bubbly liquid, and then he gingerly slides one across the marble island countertop, “I think you’ll enjoy this.”

He watches you with an amused expression while you raise the champagne to your lips, and when your eyes widen at the taste, he grins.

“It’s really good,” you say, toying with the stem of your glass. 

Now it’s your turn to watch him take a sip- and you’re blown away by how sexy he can be while simply drinking- his adam’s apple bobbing-

You wanna lick his neck.

You wanna lick his neck so bad-

“Should we get down to business?” he asks.

You wanna get down on something- and it’s not business. 

“Er- yes, we should,” you agree, shifting the way you’re seated on the bar stool at his counter-

Your panties are sticking to your core and it’s a little uncomfortable- 

You have no idea how this night is going to pan out, no idea if you’ll actually end up in his bed- so you’ve worn a beautiful, silky, matching set- its one drawback is the way the material sticks to  you when you’re even slightly aroused- and you’ve been aroused since the moment Seungcheol opened the door to his home and invited you in.

“Since this is a contract we’re making together, I held myself back from writing one up,” he explains. “I was thinking we could discuss it verbally, and I’ll write up a copy of what we’ve talked about after you go home tonight-” 

You feel your expression fall a little and Seungcheol pauses, expert eyes assessing you. 

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” you assure him, swallowing thickly and averting your gaze, “that sounds like a good idea.”

There are a few more moments of silence, and then Seungcheol rests both hands on the countertop, leaning forward, voice dipping when he says, “Darling, as much as I’d love for you to stay over tonight, I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck you until the third date.” 

Your skin feels electrified, and you gawk at the gorgeous man, who looks down at you with an amused grin.

You nearly shock yourself when the words “why not?” tumble past your lips, and his affectionate smile widens at your question.

“We’ve hardly discussed expectations,” he answers smoothly. “It would be… unwise for me to skip those important steps, to give you time to consider your options.”

“My options?”

“I am older than you,” he points out, “and there’s still a chance you might decide you want someone who can give you more of his time. I want you to be sure about all of this.”

“I am sure,” you insist.

“You think you are,” he muses, bringing his champagne to his lips, “but until you see a finalized document, you shouldn’t be agreeing to anything.”

“You won’t hurt me-” you tell him, “I trust you.”

“Although we only just met,” he points out. “If you trust me at all, trust in this process, okay, Sweetheart?”

You swallow any words of insistence that threaten to bubble up out of you, nodding and taking a sip of your own drink.

“So,” he lets out a sigh, “we discussed a few of my expectations when we first met, do you remember what they were?”

“You were looking for a companion of sorts, who could manage you being at work frequently,” you respond, feeling pleased when he nods and smiles at you. “Someone to meet up with once or twice a week.”

“Very good, Angel,” he praises you. “While it’s implied, I’d like to solidify what you might call a key condition.”

You’re practically on the edge of your seat, waiting for him to continue, your interest piqued.

“Any contract you’d sign would come with a loyalty clause.” He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your own. “Do you understand what that entails?”

“I think so,” you nod. “It would be an agreement that while I’m seeing you, I wouldn’t be entertaining anyone else. We’d be exclusive.”

“That’s my smart girl,” he smiles. “Even though I don’t have much time for you, I’d provide for you to live comfortably when I’m not around, in the hopes that, when we are together, we’re both committed to making the best of it.” 

You love the way that sounds.

“Which brings me to my next point,” he continues, “monthly allowances. I’ll cover your food, rent, utilities- anything you need, and provide extra spending money for clothing, jewelry, etcetera.” 

“Wow, that’s-” you feel your eyes widening, “that’s very generous of you.”

“It’s really not,” he insists. “You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman, and you’re agreeing to be a companion to some middle aged psych nut who hardly has enough time for you-” you both laugh a little at the way he refers to himself, “compensation is a must.”

You have to stop yourself from happily chirping an ‘if you say so daddy’ at the man that is so close to becoming everything you’ve ever wanted for yourself-

“On top of our one-on-one interactions,” Seungcheol says, “I’d also like for you to accompany me to professional events, but I’d need you to be discreet. On top of a loyalty clause, I might have you sign a nondisclosure act- how does that sound to you?”

You consider it for a moment. “I’m not the type to go tell people about my personal life- and other than my best friend, no one even knows I was on the sugar site-”

“Your friend who loves Marilyn Monroe and bleaches his hair?” Seungcheol asks with an amused expression.

“You remembered-” you laugh, heart warming to know how many details he’s held onto in regard to your first meeting.

“The NDA can exclude your close friend, we all need a confidant.”

“Thank you,” you swallow, “I think- if it allows me to talk to Seungkwan, signing a NDA would be okay.”

“Perfect,” Seungcheol nods, drinking the last of his champagne. “We’ve covered a few of the most important parts of an agreement, so I think maybe now is a good time to grab another important document that I need you to look over.”

“Oh?”

“Stay here for a moment, I’ll be right back,” Seungcheol assures you, flashing you a quick wink before exiting the kitchen.

It’s almost torturous to be alone anywhere in Seungcheol’s home without him, and part of you is inclined to follow him around like a lost, needy puppy-

You finish your drink while you wait, taking breaths to calm yourself, afterall, he’d said he wouldn’t be fucking you tonight- therefore, there’s not much for you to worry about.

Seungcheol returns shortly, holding a dark leather file folder, which he offers to you.

“What’s this?” you ask, not wanting to open it without being prompted to- but your curiosity is as high as ever.

“Separate from our sugar agreement, this is a bdsm contract. It has a list of kinks and other things, as well as a section for you to fill out, detailing what you’re comfortable - and more importantly - what you’re uncomfortable with. I’d like you to take it home, look it over, and if you have any questions, let me know.”

“Right-” you stand up, holding the file folder to your chest-

Any words that you were thinking of saying disappear when you look up at Seungcheol, once more marveling at your size difference and how beautiful he is-

“You’re easily distractable,” he grins, pinching at your chin gently, “aren’t you, Angel?”

“Yes sir,” you mumble-

Easily dazed too.

“My driver will take you home now,” the (much too sexy) psychologist tells you. “His name is Seokmin, you’ll probably have to remind him to give you his number. He’ll be available to you from now on if you need to go anywhere.”

“You have a driver?” you blink- shocked at how he’s able to afford all of this-

You realize he must come from old money- and you’re appalled you hadn’t noticed it before.

He doesn’t carry himself in the way a man who’d made a name for himself would- he has an air of confidence- a confidence that runs deep and is backed up by family money.

“Yes, darling,” Seungcheol grins, “we have a driver.”

4: Saturday

You’ve always loved having movie night with your best friend, but tonight, he’s not interested in movies. Seungkwan is easily distractable - a little like you, you suppose - and when you’d arrived over an hour ago, he’d immediately insisted on knowing every detail about your experience with the man he now refers to as ‘Psych daddy.’

On top of being distractable, Seunkwan is easy to please, and you manage to avoid mentioning the BDSM contract for a good long while, instead focusing on Seungcheol’s hot driver, who Seungkwan finds on instagram within five minutes.

“No way- first Psych Daddy is a ten out of ten, and now his driver is hot too?” Seungkwan bellows while mad scrolling through Seokmin’s profile. “Are you sure we’re not in some weird porn dream? You’re not gonna get tag teamed are you?”

“Seungkwan!” you scream, gently smacking him across the shoulder in shock.

“We were both thinking it!” he insists, shoving you back.

“I’ll have you know that we were not both thinking it,” you state with just as much certainty. 

“But you mentioned how nice the guy was when he dropped you off last night and we called for like five minutes before you hung up on me to go to bed!”

“Yeah, in the context that Seungcheol is really nice to everyone that works for him, despite being-”

“One of the youngest, sexiest psych daddies in the city, yeah, yeah-” Seungkwan waves his hand, “Stop rubbing it in.”

“Have you been researching my boyfriend again?” you ask, thoroughly amused.

“Boyfriend?” Seunkwan eyes you up and down, sneering. “Is that what we call dom daddies now?” 

“If he makes you sign a loyalty clause and a NDA, I think I can call him whatever I want, can’t I?” you point out. “And you avoided my question- you’ve definitely been googling Cheol again.”

“Been googling myself to pictures of pysch daddy-” Seungkwan says suggestively before asking, “He made you sign an NDA?”

“Not yet,” you sigh, “and don’t worry, we’ve discussed it and it will exclude you- I can tell you anything I want to.”

“Shit, did you tell him my name? Do you think he’ll accept me as a patient if he knows I’m your best friend?”

“Since when do you need a psychologist?” you laugh.

“Uh,” Seungkwan’s brows raise, “Bestie, have you seen my life? I definitely need someone to confide in who knows what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“Ouch,” you touch your heart, pretending to be wounded. “Since when did you not like crack gremlin advice?”

“Since you put down your crack gremlin hat and became a sugar baby to a hot psychologist,” Seungkwan sighs, taking one last look at Seokmin’s grinning face before he puts his phone down and focuses entirely on you. “But go back a few steps and talk to me about this loyalty clause- psych daddy sends you home with a ton of papers to sign, huh?”

“More than you could imagine.”

Your best friend looks you up and down with suspicion, brow raising in a silent prompt for more info.

When you remain quiet, Seungkwan sighs. “Fine, don’t tell me,” but after a beat, he asks, “Was it a sex list or something?”

You’re always stunned by how intuitive your best friend can be.

Upon reading your reaction, Seungkwan’s eyes widen and he grabs at your arm, nearly jumping with excitement. “No way!” he yells in your ear. “He did send you home with a sex list! Show me, show me, show me!” 

You look to your bag and before you can even reach for it, Seungkwan is darting past you and retrieving the papers. “Holy shit-” he breathes, scanning the document with eyes full of something like perverted excitement. “A checklist for kinks?”

“Yup.”

“Choking, yes. Spanking, fuck yeah- bondage-” he grins at you, “looks like someone’s a little slut for psych daddy.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, reaching for the papers, but he launches himself off the couch to evade you. “If you’re gonna be like this, I don’t want to show you.”

“Fine, I’ll be nice,” Seungkwan says, but he’s still reading the list, and his voice is lacking any real sincerity. “Okay so most of these are straightforward-”

“You watch way too much porn,” you sigh.

He practically growls at you. “As I was saying- most of these are straightforward, and you’ve filled out the ones I would have expected you to- but some of these are things even I have never heard of- like, what the fuck is…” he carefully sounds out the next word, “Quirofilia?”

“Honestly- the ones I didn’t know about, I just sort of skipped over, hoping maybe you would know- but…” you can’t stop the sly grin that works its way onto your lips, “I guess Cheol did say I could call him if I had any questions…”

“At this point, it’s almost like this list is purposefully vague on some kinks-” Seungkwan sighs, joining you on the couch again. “I bet Psych daddy has been waiting for you to call him for extra clarification.”

“We could google it,” you point out.

“Definitely not,” Seungkwan says quickly. “Call daddy, and put him on speaker.”

“Oh, so he’s just daddy now?” you tease, pulling out your phone. 

“Call him.”

“Hmm… maybe I’ll text,” you decide. “He could be busy.”

“That’s no fun,” Seunkwan whines, pouting out his lower lip.

“Too bad,” you tell him, typing in a quick message. “I said, ‘hey, whenever you have time, I have a few questions about some of the terms on the kink list.’”

“Add a smiley face,” your friend urges, “so he knows it’s like- good questions.”

You add a happy emoji, and hit send. Then you put your phone down, reaching for the papers from Seungkwan. 

“He might not answer anytime soon-” you say- just as your phone buzzes the familiar ringtone that you’ve only given to one person.

Both you and Seungkwan stare at your ringing phone, and then your best friend grins at you. 

“This guy is so whipped for you it’s crazy- are you sure you haven’t sucked his dick?”

“Oh my god stop!” you groan, “and be quiet or I can’t answer-”

“I’ll be quiet,” he insists, pretending to lock his mouth shut and throw away the key.

With one final warning glare, you turn your focus to your phone, answering the call. “Hello?” 

“Hey, gorgeous,” comes Seungcheol’s unmistakable smooth drawl- god, he makes your mouth fucking water- “So you got around to looking at the kink list.”

He’s so god damned confident- and when you look up at Seungkwan, you see he’s just as shook by your new lover as you are.

“Uh, yes,” you clear your throat. “There are just a few terms I’m unfamiliar with, and- I know I could look them up, but you said to call you if I had questions-”

“Of course Angel, I’d love to help talk you through it.”

Your panties are wet.

They’re wet, and your best friend is nearly falling off the couch from how seductive your new sugar daddy is.

“What kinks are you unfamiliar with?” Seungcheol prompts, and you can practically hear him smiling at the way he’s taking your breath away on a freaking phone call- 

“There’s this one,” your eyes scan over the word Quirofilia, and you do your best not to mangle it the way Seungkwan had when you relay it to Cheol.

“Quirofilia,” he repeats, teaching you the proper pronunciation with the calm, pleasant tone you’re starting to fall in love with. “It’s another term for a hand kink.”

Now it’s your turn to echo, and you say “A hand kink,” while blinking at your friend.

“Yes, angel,” Seungcheol chuckles on the other end. “If you check off the box for receiving, you’d indicate that you’d be more than comfortable with me touching you frequently. For lack of a better term, it goes hand in hand with a number of other kinks- spanking and choking for example, or finger sucking.”

“And for giving?” you question, having already checked off a yes for what he’s just described.

“For giving…” he clears his throat, “well, you’d let me pay for you to get manicures- maybe let me choose the colours and styles-” there’s another pause, then “I have to admit, I did notice that you have nice hands the first night we met.”

“Really?” your heart lurches in your chest and Seungkwan grabs a pillow to bite while listening in on a conversation that’s getting sexier and sexier- “What did you like about them?”

“They’re smaller than mine, for one. I’m sure we can both imagine how pretty they’d look wrapped around something… substantially bigger.” 

Your best friend spasms, practically screaming into the pillow, and you can’t help the way your own jaw drops at the statement- 

Are you about to have phone sex with Cheol in front of your best friend?

Do you need to get a room?

“We can discuss it in detail when I see you next,” Seungcheol says, cutting off your horny thoughts. “Are there any other kinks you’ve had trouble with?”

“I mean-” part of you wants to go through the whole list and pretend not to know things just to keep him on the phone- “if we’re going to discuss these all in detail when I see you next- maybe I should just wait till then?”

You can’t believe you’re cock blocking yourself just because Seungkwan is here.

“We can do that,” Seungcheol says smoothly. 

In the background, you hear someone say his name, and you find yourself asking, “did I catch you at a bad time?” suddenly worried you’ve interrupted something important.

“Of course not, angel, I wouldn’t have called you if I couldn’t step away for a few minutes.” There’s a pause then, “I’m at a conference this weekend, flew out this morning.”

“Oh,” your heart deflates a little.

“I was tempted to invite you,” Seungcheol says, calming the uneasiness you’re feeling. “But seeing as you’ve not signed anything, and I already had plans with colleagues, I figured this wouldn’t be the best first trip to take you on.”

This excites you again. “Do you have somewhere specific in mind for a first trip?”

“Somewhere warm,” he answers smoothly, a small chuckle following a moment later. “Anyways, I won’t be that available tomorrow, you caught me at a good moment tonight.”

“Well… will you be back on Monday?” you question.

Another small laugh, then, “Are you that eager to see me, gorgeous?”

“Maybe.” You eye Seungkwan who’s still screaming into the pillow. “But I mean- I remember what you said about needing a sugar baby that fits your schedule, so, I don’t want to pressure you to see me the day you get back from a work conference-”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, angel,” his smooth voice calms your anxieties. “I do have quite a busy week, a few things aren’t pinned down yet, can I let you know when I have more details?”

“Yes, of course-” you bite at your lip. “I should let you get back to your colleagues- thanks for calling me and talking me through uh- Quirofilia.”

You hear him take a deep breath, and then, Seungcheol lets out something like a groan- “I’m tempted to ask what you checked off for it.”

His words go straight to your pussy and after a moment of silence you ask, “Do you want me to tell you?”

“No,” he responds, “It will give me something to think about tonight if you don’t tell me.”

“Okay,” you grin at the way he’s toying with himself- ego fuelled by the idea of him thinking about you- “I’m excited to talk more about this with you when I see you next.”

“Me too, angel.”

“Have a great time at your conference daddy.” 

You slap a hand over your mouth, eyes widening at the way the term of endearment just slipped out of you-

Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh that betrays how much the word has affected him, and he sounds less composed than normal when he says, “Thank you, precious, enjoy your evening.”

You hang up, and as soon as you have, Seungkwan goes ballistic, practically pouncing at you while screaming, “That was too sexy! You guys are too sexy, what the hell!?”

Laughing at his antics is easy- pretending your panties aren’t ruined is another story.

5: Sunday

The ringtone that makes your whole body tingle with anticipation is becoming more and more familiar, and you practically launch yourself across your bed to answer your phone.

“Hi.”

A small chuckle, and a breath, then, “Hey you.”

“How's your conference going?” you ask, having not expected to hear from Cheol today.

“Good. It’s over, we finished the last meet up just before dinner. What are you up to?”

You grin to yourself, playing with the book in your lap. “I’m reading your most recent publication.”

“My most recent publication?” you can hear him smiling now too, and you enjoy the way he teases your choice of phrase. “Since when were you going out and buying my books, darling?”

“Since I saw how many you’ve done- when you showed me your library. I went out this morning and got two.”

“You could have asked, and I would have given you them for free… with a detailed note from the author.” 

“I was eager to begin reading,” you admit. “And you’re so busy- I’m still not sure when I’m seeing you next.”

“That’s actually why I called. I took a look at my schedule, and I’ve got options for you.”

“Ooh! I love options.” 

Another smile you can hear through the phone, and your heart beats a little faster. 

“I can see you alone on Friday, it’s the earliest day I have available- but if you’d like, you can accompany me to a get-together with my work colleagues on Wednesday. I know you haven’t signed any papers and we haven’t discussed anything in detail yet but… I have a good feeling about you, angel, and I’d enjoy having you there.”

“Then of course I’ll go with you to the get-together,” you announce, grinning like a school girl at the inklings of praise he bestows on you.

“That’s wonderful news, gorgeous.” - you love it when he calls you pretty pet names - “I’m sorry that this call can’t be longer- but I’ll see you Wednesday- and I’m sure I’ll find a reason to call you before then.”

“Yes, please.” 

He laughs, and the sound has your core buzzing with interest- how the hell is Seungcheol so sexy without even trying?

“Have a good night, angel, and don’t read too much of my book- they’re all depressing.”

“They’re informative,” you insist. “Have a wonderful night Cheol, and thanks for calling.”

6: Monday

“Hi.” 

You’ve gotta stop answering your phone with a full grin- but every time Seungcheol calls you, you can’t help but get warm and fuzzy all over.

“Hi, angel.” 

And wet. Wet all over. 

Wet where it counts.

“I was just thinking about you,” you confess, toying with the page of his book that you’ve been reading.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you,” he responds, “and I have been, all day. It’s quite distracting actually.”

“Really?” Your heart leaps again.

“I was thinking about getting you something to wear to the party on Wednesday- was going to get Seokmin to drop it off at your place, but then… I realized how much I’d rather see you and give you the dress in person, to see your reaction.”

This man gives you full on heart palpitations- and it takes everything in you to clear your throat and ask, “so does this mean I’ll see you before Wednesday, or?”

“I mean… I don’t want to assume you’re free every night- but if you’re not otherwise busy tomorrow-”

“I always have time for you daddy,” you smile, “and I’ll sign a contract to prove it.”

He lets out a shaky breath, and you love that you’re having an effect on him. “That’s good to hear sweetheart. I’ll move a few things around. How does seven sound?”

“Seven sounds perfect.”

“And it will be a longer stay this time. I know I kept our last interaction at my home brief- but if you bring all the documents I gave you, we can…” he clears his throat, “discuss them in full, tomorrow, if you’d like”

“I’d love that,” you admit.

“Seokmin will be at your place to pick you up at seven then, angel. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I can’t wait either.”

7: Tuesday

Seungcheol is a man who strives for perfection. From his home and work, all the way down to the pretty present he’s gotten for you, the box wrapped in a golden bow-

And when you open your gift to reveal an expensive red fabric just itching to be touched- you think there’s a possibility that you might very much be in love with the psychologist already.

“It’s beautiful-” you breathe, pulling the silky garment from its box to assess the length and style.

“You were wearing red when we first met,” Seungcheol tells you, “I thought to myself that I’d never seen such a gorgeous girl- when I invited you to the gettogether tomorrow, I knew there was only one colour I truly wanted to see you in.”

Your heart is having palpitations, you swear- 

“Do you-” you swallow thickly, looking up at him, “do you want me to try it on for you now?” 

It’s his turn to take a shaky breath, and after a stagnant pause, he shakes his head, “No. I think I’d like to be surprised tomorrow- besides, after we get done looking over the papers and contracts, I feel as if we’d both prefer you to be taking off clothes rather than putting them on.” 

He’s right about that.

You only wish you’d known about his affinity for the color red before you’d chosen a black lingerie set, knowing that tonight would be the night he’d finally strip you bare-

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. You honestly can’t- and all these paper signings- they’re just a formality for you. 

As far as you’re concerned, Cheol is the one- or at least, he could be the one. 

Or maybe he’s just the ‘for now,’ but regardless, for now, you want to be ravenously fucking him-

“My easily distractable darling,” he gently pinches at your chin, pulling you from your dirty thoughts. “Let’s see the papers.”

After putting the dress back in its box, you grab the purse you’d arrived with. It’s large enough to hold the folder with the documents, which you pull out next, setting it down on Seungcheol’s kitchen counter. 

“I see you’ve printed out the other documents I sent you since we last met,” he says, and you can hear the pride in his voice that you’d gone a step above and beyond what he’d asked of you. 

After your last date, wherein you’d gotten the kink list, he’d sent you an email with a link to a contractual pdf. Once you’d gone over the contract in detail on your computer, you’d printed it out, eager to sign your name- but you’d been patient, knowing he’d probably want to witness your signature being jotted down on the dotted line.

“I’m ready to sign them,” you tell him, also pulling a pen out of your purse-

“Eager angel,” he smiles, taking the seat on the barstool next to yours. “Are you sure you don’t want to read it all over one more time?”

“I’m sure,” you tell him, angling your body towards his and fiddling with your pen. 

“Alright,” Seungcheol nods, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down, his forearms flexing. “How about you let me sign first, then you can do your own signature.”

You hold out your pen, which he accepts, and you watch the way he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose when he looks down at the contract. His eyes scan over the document, and a moment later, the ballpoint pen is gliding languidly across the dotted line, his signature solidified in a binding agreement. 

“There we go,” he says smoothly, holding the pen out for you to take.

Within seconds, two signatures are on the contract, and your heart is racing just a little faster in anticipation of what’s to come next.

“And now to look over your kink list,” Seungcheol breathes, moving the signed papers to the side. 

Your heart lurches when he picks up the sheet you’ve filled in, and you stay silent while his eyes move over each line of information. 

“As much as these all interest me,” he says, “I’m pleased to see you’ve checked off giving and receiving for quirofilia.” His large hand moves to rest on top of your thigh, and he gives you a gentle squeeze, eyes shifting from the paper to your own. “Will you allow me to book a manicure for you tomorrow? In preparation for the get-together?”

“Yes, please,” you rest your hand on top of his own.

“We’ll have to get your nails matching your new dress,” he tells you smoothly, setting the paper down in favour of pushing a strand of hair away from your face, his index finger gently gliding past your cheekbone. “And there will be another present for you tomorrow.”

“Another?” you’re nearly dizzy from how well he treats you-

“Another,” he confirms, taking off his glasses to set down before standing from the bar stool. 

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” you ask, allowing him to prompt you to your own feet, both of his hands gently capturing your own.

Seungcheol gives his head a small shake, a smile on his lips when he responds with a “no.”

Something inside of you deflates slightly at the fact that he’s withholding information from you, and you can’t help the way you pout your lower lip out - just a little - in an effort to perhaps make him change his mind-

“Come on, angel,” Seungcheol laughs, pinching your chin and forcing you to look up at him. His dark chocolate colored eyes are swimming with adoration, and his small half smile is breathtaking- “you can be patient for one more day, can’t you?”

“Depends what for,” you admit, reaching your free hand out to hook your fingers in the front of his belt, pulling yourself closer to the man who’s as solid as any brick wall you’ve ever seen-

“Patience for the next present,” he clarifies, gaze dipping down to your lips as you move even closer to him- “not for anything else.”

“Promise?” you ask, pushing onto your tip toes- mouths even closer-

“Promise,” Seungcheol says, finally closing the distance between you.

His lips are soft- he’s a gentleman, and his hand moves from your chin to be cupping the nape of your neck, the other smoothing down to the small of your back. 

It’s chaste kissing- too chaste for you, and you wrap your arms around the back of his own neck, pressing your chest up against his.

You don’t want any more distance between you, and you especially don’t want to wait any longer for this man to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you.

“Cheol-” you groan, allowing him to tilt your head and slide his tongue along your lower lip.

“Yes, angel?” His voice is so deep and sexy, the vibrations of it going straight through from his chest to your own and then down to your tingling core-

“Daddy, please-” 

“I would ask you to use your words, but now that you’ve filled out your kink list-” he swallows thickly, gently pressing his forehead to yours, “I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’d enjoy.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’d said yes to most of the kinks on the list- so you’re not sure how - exactly - he’s going to narrow it down and decide on what to do to you today- but there’s another part of you that trusts him fully.

Tonight is going to be a night to remember, regardless of what kinks he fulfills for you.

“Wait-” your hands move from his strong shoulders to the front of his dress shirt, toying with the buttons there, “I never saw your kink list.”

“Would you like to?”

You nod.

“Another time then,” Seungcheol says smoothly, “tonight, I want to take care of you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good,” you admit, tugging on his shirt in an effort to pull him closer.

With a smile, Seungcheol concedes, lips finding yours again. 

Instead of being as chaste as he had at the start, with each brush of your mouths against each other, he’s becoming more bold, gently testing your limits-

Little does he know that when it comes to him, you have no hard limits.

He could talk you into just about anything- but part of you knows he’d never really try to talk you into much, which is one of the reasons why you’re so open for him.

As he kisses you harder, and you tug him even closer, you realize you’re practically trying to climb him- and in one motion, Seungcheol bends down and lifts you into his arms bridal style, being mindful of the black dress still adorning your body.

“I’m going to take you to my bedroom now,” he tells you, and you take the opportunity to begin speckling his neck and underjaw in kisses, your hands tugging and toying with the fabric covering his broad shoulders. 

It’s so easy to become lost in him- his gentle, calming aura truly overtakes you, and now that you’re contractually under his protection - both financially and romantically - nothing else does matter- 

Nothing except him.

You want to make Seungcheol happy- and you note his reactions, note the way he releases a shuddery breath when you find a sensitive spot just under his ear- your tongue dipping out to taste his skin while you press kisses there-

“Okay, angel,” he sighs, “time to set you down.” 

He places you gently onto his bed before straightening to look at you. 

Seungcheol has always been tall and broad- but towering over you at the foot of his bed while you lay there with soaked panties takes him to new heights - literally - and you find yourself practically drooling- sitting up in an effort to get close to him again-

“Nuh uh uh,” he tuts, pressing one knee onto the mattress between your legs. “Lift your arms so I can take this dress off of you, and then lay back down for me, yeah?”

You follow through with his request gladly, allowing him to strip you of your dress before you flatten against his bed again, looking up at him with a lustful wonder that you’ve never truly experienced.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Seungcheol says smoothly, discarding your dress before looking down at you with appreciative eyes- eyes that finally take in some of your best features, gliding across your breasts and the lingerie set you’re wearing- “You dressed up for me,” he notes.

“Of course, daddy,” you sigh, reaching for him when he presses his other knee onto the bed, “wanted to look good for you.”

“You always look good,” he tells you, flattening his form over your own, one hand pressed to the mattress next to your head while the other gently grasps your jaw. “My pretty little angel,” he says, breath fanning across your skin before his lips find your own.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and looking for friction between your thighs-

A moan slips out of you when you feel his cock, pressing against the front of his pants deliciously-

Seungcheol chuckles into your kiss before pulling away from you, his lips moving to your neck- 

“So sensitive, baby,” he says, rutting forward ever so slightly- cock dragging past your panty-clad core and making you groan again. “When was the last time you were properly touched?”

“It’s been a while,” you admit, swallowing thickly and lacing your fingers through Seungcheol’s hair while he kisses down to the swell of your breasts, still captured in your bra. 

“Well, we’re going to change that.”

“We better,” you retort, back already arching off the bed to give him access to the clasp of your bra- which he undoes with deft fingers. “Take it off- please-”

The garment slips off of you easily, and Seungcheol tosses it to join your dress on the floor before his large, warm hand is cupping your breast, lips attaching to one nipple while his fingers toy with the other.

Small gasps of ecstasy escape you, filling the room with your whimpery sounds of need.

Your new lover focuses on your breasts in a way that begins to make you frustrated, your pussy clenching with untouched desire- and the feeling of Seungcheol’s muscled shoulders is almost too much for your hands, which can’t help but explore his body-

“Please-” you moan, shifting your hips up, eager for him to grind down on you again-

The hand on your breast is removed, and it slips between your bodies, two fingers pressing to your pussy through your panties. 

You release a whimper, body shuddering at the small stimulus on your clit-

“Your panties are soaked, angel,” he says, releasing your breast in favor of looking down at you again. “Do you really need me that much?” 

“I do,” you tell him sincerely, once more tugging at the front of his shirt. “I need you so bad-”

Your fingers begin to undo his buttons, but your motions are shaky, especially as he rubs your core harder, teasing you through your panties-

“Please- just take them off,” you groan. “Take it all off-”

Seungcheol grins, “If you insist,” and then he’s pulling away from you, leaving you cold and desperate, your hands trying to follow him-

But then you stop, zoning in on the way his own nimble fingers undo the buttons of his shirt-

And then he’s shrugging the fabric off, revealing a chiseled torso and an abdomen that you could wash clothes on-

“You’re so-” you groan, unable to even believe you’d found a man like this on a sugar dating site.

“I’m so…” he looks at you with a cocked brow, kneeling between your legs, his hands finding your thighs and smoothing down against your skin.

“You’re everything,” you tell him, unable to think through much else.

The complement works, and Seungcheol’s smile widens. “Thank you, angel,” he says. “Daddy’s going to eat you now.”

You’re so overwhelmed- in the best of ways- that you hardly even hear Seungkwan’s voice in the back of your mind screaming ‘hannibal the cannibal, bitch!’ 

Your best friend had been so wrong about Seungcheol- who gets down onto his knees at the foot of the bed, dragging you closer before hooking his fingers in your panties-

You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the fabric from your form, leaving you completely naked-

Seungcheol releases a breath that fans over your pussy, his lips pressing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, teeth grazing past your skin before he finally brings his mouth where you need him most.

You can’t help but reach down and tangle your fingers through his hair, determined to keep him between your thighs-

And he doesn’t disappoint, tongue licking you up and down, pressing through your pussy lips and dipping into your core, nose brushing by your clit-

“Cheol-” you whimper, toes curling at the sensation.

You’ve been eaten out before, but you’ve never been as into a man as you are with Seungcheol, and every brush of him against you has you practically whining and tingling with ecstasy.

You’d never thought sex could be this good- and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

His tongue is nothing compared to what his cock is going to feel like- but his mouth alone is bringing you shockingly close to your high, devastatingly fast. 

Seungcheol releases a groan against your pussy, pulling away just enough to ask “close already, angel?”

“Mmm- yes,” you whimper, tightening your grip in his hair on an effort to bring him back to your pussy.

“You can cum, just- let me know,” he tells you, tongue returning to your aching hole, lapping at you for all you’re worth-

You find your eyes closing, your head resting back against his bed while his ministrations work you closer and closer to the edge-

One of your feet drags along his strong back, your legs threatening to close around his head as your sounds of pleasure begin to tumble out of you uncensored, filling the room-

Seungcheol presses his face against you even harder, lips wrapping around your clit-

“Cheol- I’m gonna-” you whine, breaths becoming irregular as you get closer and closer to cloud nine- “oh my god-” you reach the peak of pleasure, and a gasped “daddy” escapes you as you’re consumed with your orgasm, quivering legs trying to close around Seungcheol-

But two hands land on your inner thighs, forcing you open for the man who eats you through your high like he’s been starved- 

Perhaps you both have.

You haven’t felt something this good in- maybe ever, and all you’re able to do is tug on his hair, moan loudly, and rut your hips against his face while you feel him tingling through every fiber of your being.

Seungcheol works you through your entire orgasm and then some, until your legs feel like jelly from being tensed, and you can hardly breathe correctly. Then, he pulls away from you slowly, pressing kisses along your inner thigh-

You open your eyes to look down at him, and you’re met with a visual that has you getting wet all over again. 

The gorgeous man between your legs, wipes his thumb across his lower lip, collecting what’s there and slipping it into his mouth, releasing a groan that has you practically twitching- 

His pupils are blown with interest, and he’s breathing just as heavily as you are.

He stands up, towering over you once more.

Seungcheol swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing from the way you checked off cum play and breeding kink that you’re on some sort of contraceptive?”

You release a small laugh- no man has ever used the word contraceptive in the bedroom with you before. Cheol is so sexy with his fancy words-

“Hey,” he gently taps your inner thigh again, “are you alright?”

“Yes, I-” you take a breath, “sorry, I’m just-” you can’t help but reach for him, making something like grabby hands in the air.

“I’ll give you a second to come down a bit more,” he concedes, returning between your legs, holding himself just over your body while you attempt to latch onto him, ankles crossing behind his back to lock him in- “You really haven’t been properly touched in a while,” he notes, brushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. 

“No,” you agree, “I haven’t.” 

You cup his face, eager for his lips to be on yours, but he holds just out of your reach, grinning down at you. “Almost ready to answer my question?”

You nod, taking a breath before telling him, “I’m on the pill.”

“Lucky us,” Seungcheol says, bypassing your lips in favour of pressing a kiss to your neck, just above your fluttering pulse point. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you admit, letting out a deep sigh- “needy.”

Seungcheol releases a small groan, and he pushes his hips forward, teasing your bare core with the front of his dress pants- “Yeah?” 

“Please-” you tug gently at his hair, “stop teasing me.”

“Just trying to let you take a breath,” he retorts.

“I don’t want to breathe,” you say stubbornly, “I want you.” 

He lets out a chuckle, and you find yourself wanting to prove how much you want him. 

There’s no way in hell that you’ll be able to dominate Seungcheol, he’s as sturdy as a bear laying on top of you, but when you push at his shoulders, he relents, allowing you to roll him onto his back so you’re now the one on top.

He blinks up at you, lips parting-

“Didn’t expect this, did you, daddy?” you ask, placing your palms flat on his chest while adjusting the way you’re seated, capturing his cock between your bodies-

Seungcheol sits up abruptly- and you almost think he’s going to say something, but instead, he presses his lips to yours, capturing the nape of your neck with his hand so you can’t move away. 

His kiss is hungry, tongue gliding past your own and earning a mewl of pleasure- your hips rock slightly, and you’re immediately aggrieved to be reminded that he still has pants on.

“Want you naked,” you tell him between kisses, “want to taste you-”

Now it’s his turn to let out a groan of eager delight, and he lets go of his hold on your neck, pulling away from your lips to look you in the eyes while he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging ever so slightly to have your head arching back- “You sure about that?”

“God, yes-” you moan, licking your lips-

“Then go ahead, angel,” Seungcheol says, releasing you. “Do whatever your heart desires, and if you get tired, let daddy know so he can take over again.”

You’ve never been wetter in your life. Nor have you ever shimmied down a man’s body and wrestled with his pants so quick, but with Seungcheol, that’s precisely what you do, and within no time at all, you have your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock.

He’s girthy- and you can just imagine how good the stretch of him is going to feel- 

You’re practically drooling on him, bobbing your head up and down while he pushes your hair out of your face, releasing a groan and a “that’s it, angel” that eggs you on even more.

You’re aware that you don’t want to make him cum like this- this is just you returning the favour before riding him- 

God, you want to ride him so bad- like you’ve never wanted to ride any man in your whole entire life.

“Fuck-” 

It’s the first swearword you’ve ever heard come out of Seungcheol’s mouth, and it goes straight to your pussy, which clenches around nothing, your mouth slipping down far enough on his cock that you choke-

“Careful, darling,” the hand in your hair tugs you off his cock, and you take a gasp of air, sneaking a glance up at the man who has you going feral-

“I wanna ride you.”

“Like I said, do whatever your heart desires,” comes his almost casual response-

This man is going to be the death of you.

Death by psychologist cock.

Before you can even think a coherent sentence, you’re straddling Seungcheol’s hips, adjusting his cock to fit snuggly against your core, and sinking down on him, filling yourself inch by delicious inch until you’re sat atop him like a queen on her throne.

His hands find your waist, and you both release sounds of pleasure, your eyes closing to enjoy the feeling of being perfectly full for just a moment before you begin to move-

“Feels good, huh?” he prompts, squeezing your hips gently.

“Feels fucking fantastic,” you tell him- swear words be damned.

Your hands find his strong chest, and you lean over him, connecting your lips while you take a test thrust, bouncing just slightly on his cock-

The feeling is enough to have you both groaning into each other’s mouths, Seungcheol cupping the side of your face while he gently bites at your lower lip-

You’re not used to being on top- and it feels obvious in the shallow way you’re riding him, too distracted in kissing to give either motion your full attention-

But that doesn’t matter, because Seungcheol is rutting up to meet you, matching your slow pace and helping you find a steady rhythm with the hand still on your hip, guiding you as you begin to bounce.

It feels like heaven to be fucking Choi Seungcheol- feels like nothing you could have ever imagined. 

You find yourself getting lost in him, working on autopilot with one destination in mind: orgasmic pleasure, and with each thrust of his hips to meet you, he helps you get closer.

“Fuck, Cheol-” you groan, tearing your lips from his to take a breath, burying your face against his neck while your thighs burn from effort- “Daddy, please- please, fuck me-”

That’s all you need to say to get him to take over, flipping you onto your back so he can regain the top position. He captures your hands, raising them over your head where he can lock your wrists together in his strong grip, then his free digits slip between your bodies, seeking out your clit-

“Oh my god,” you moan, eyes closing as you’re overwhelmed in the sensation of him-

“Close already, sweetheart?” he questions, letting out a smug, sexy, little chuckle. “Feels that good?”

“Yes- feels so good,” you tell him, ready to say anything he wants you to if it means he fucks you harder-

His fingers draw small quick circles on your clit, and your legs twitch where they’re wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve hardly even fucked you- you can hold it a little longer, can’t you darling?” he prompts, nosing at your cheek. “For me?”

“I can-” you groan as he fucks you harder, “I can try- but- my clit-”

“Is this making it difficult for you?” Seungcheol smiles, relenting ever so slightly and then removing his hand all together in favour of wrapping it around your throat. “There, is that better?”

He squeezes your airway, and you’re simply unable to speak, unable to do anything but moan like a whore in heat while he fucks you closer and closer to an orgasm you’re desperately trying to hold off for him-

“You feel-” he lets out a groan, “unbelievable.”

No, he feels unbelievable, and you can’t even touch him with your hands still pinned- 

You think if you could graze your fingers across his strong shoulders you’d cum instantly, so maybe it’s a good thing he has your wrists in his grasp-

“I think I want you to cum now,” he decides, and you’re thankful- only for him to release your throat and rub your clit, which has you whining loudly all over again- “You’ll cum with me, right?”

“God, daddy- yes!” you whimper- the coil in your stomach clenching as tightly as ever-

Then he releases your wrists, anchoring a hand against your abdomen to keep you down while he works you over the edge- and your own fingers immediately seek out the shoulders that have you dizzy with lust, core clamping down on his cock as you’re high hits you full force.

“Cheol-” you whimper, delighted by the way he immediately presses his lips to yours, eagerly eating up your sounds of pleasure and returning them with grunts and groans of his own while fucking you through one of the best orgasms of your entire life.

His tongue dances by yours, teeth teasing past your lip-

Your fingers are in his hair and you can feel him practically everywhere, your entire body alight with wonderful sensations of bliss-

It starts to slow too soon, but every up must have a down, and as his hips lose pace and your sounds lessen, you realize you’re truly, madly, deeply in love with Choi Seungcheol.

And you’ve known him for less than a week.

8: Wednesday

“Are you settling in okay?” Bora’s voice pulls you away from your daydreaming, and you tear your eyes off of Seungcheol to focus on the woman whose house you’ve been enjoying for much of the evening.

She’d been introduced to you as Seungcheol’s colleague’s wife, and you’ve yet to get any one on one with the very pregnant hostess, whose husband, Mingyu, has been circling her like a puppy this entire time. 

“Yes,” you respond, finding your voice, “you have a very easy home to settle into.”

“I appreciate that,” she smiles, taking the free seat on the sofa next to you, one hand settling over her protruding stomach in a maternal way that makes your heart soften. “I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you since you arrived, but both of us seem to have a plus one that’s attached at the hip.”

Now it’s her turn to look over at Seungcheol and Mingyu, who are huddled around another psychologist friend of theirs, Wonwoo, and his wife, their attention fixed on the youngest member of the housewarming party, a six-month-old baby named Yumi.

“I feel as if I’m the plus one,” you say.

“Don’t be modest,” Bora brushes it off with a smile, “Cheol has had his hand on the small of your back for most of the evening. As much as they like to pretend they’re big shot psychologists, we’re the crutches that get them through the evening.”

You take a moment to consider her words. 

This is the first event you’ve gone to with your new beau, and for much of it, you’ve been as intent to stick to Cheol’s side as he has been to yours.

“Trust me,” Bora continues, “give it a few minutes and they’ll migrate over here to be close to us.” She pauses, then, “Mingyu has to get used to being in the living room, a pregnant woman like me needs a good, comfortable seat.”

You both laugh at the way she touches her belly again, pushing it out and relaxing back on the sofa. 

“How far along are you?” you ask. 

Despite already having had dinner and discussion for an hour or two, much of the focus has been on the home and various publications that the four university friends have been working on, with Wonwoo’s wife Minji having arrived with Yumi only a short while ago. 

“Eight months,” Bora sighs, continuing to stroke her baby bump. “I’m just about ready to pop. But enough about me and my belly, you’ve hardly spoken about yourself- and Cheol is always so focused on work, I’ve yet to get many details out of him, other than the fact that you’re worth skipping book club for. Did you two have a hot date last night?”

Your skin heats with embarrassment- “I didn’t know he’d skipped book club for me-”

“It’s a loose arrangement, Tuesdays at seven, I’m only teasing you,” Bora leans over to nudge you with her shoulder, offering you a sweet smile. “How did you two meet?”

The nondisclosure agreement pops into your mind like a red warning sign. 

“Erm…” you swallow, “Cheol hasn’t told you?”

“Like I said, he’s very tight-lipped about it,” Bora explains. “But- I’ve never known Seungcheol to be a fan of changing his schedule- and the pearl necklace you’re wearing- the dress, your lovely nails- they all seem like gifts to me. Am I right?”

Her husband might be a psychologist, but Bora has just as much of a critical eye. She sees right through you.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Bora waves your silence off, “I know I’m right. I’ll figure you two out.”

“Are you being nosy again, Mrs. Kim?” Vernon, the fourth and quietest man of your new lover’s friend group joins you in the living room, taking a seat on the single chair to your left.

“Always,” Bora responds with a smile. “Wait, Vernon, maybe you know more about this. Y/N is being no fun- Cheol must have told you where and when they met-”

Vernon’s mouth opens in something like recognition-

“Ah ha!” Bora exclaims, leaning closer to you, sandwiching you in while she presses for more information. “So you do know!” 

“I do, but-” Vernon looks at you, then he leans in too, his voice dipping to something near a whisper, “Are we allowed to talk about this?”

“Allowed?” Now Bora is even more hooked on finding the truth than before, and her gaze darts between you and the man on your left, who obviously knows at least a few details about you and Seungcheol’s ‘origin story.’

Due to the NDA, all you can do is sit there like a fish out of water, and you find yourself looking to Seungcheol, hoping he’ll see you in distress and come over to sort things out-

“Let’s just say-” Vernon sighs, giving in to the pregnant woman’s need for information, “Y/N, you seem like a great girl- as kind, calm, collected, and smart as Seungcheol told us you were- but, I am shocked he found you on a dating site.”

“A dating site?” Bora’s eyes have widened, and she shuffles closer to you on the couch, jaw dropped. “Stop- when I told him to try online dating after his last girlfriend I was honestly joking- everyone knows Tinder is hookup central these days.”

Bora is as inquisitive as anyone you’ve ever met, and she checks you and Vernon for your reactions, easily picking up on the shift of energy-

“Wait, not tinder?” She pauses, waiting for an answer. When it becomes obvious neither you nor Vernon are going to elaborate, she sighs and sits back a little. “Now that I think of it, tinder is an app, not a site- the only dating sites I can think of online are-”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off atop her head, and her jaw drops a little more- then she’s inching in close to you again, whispering as Vernon had done earlier, “You know what? Now that we’re discussing it- a sugar daddy site would be perfect for Cheol.”

Vernon groans, throwing his hand over his eyes and leaning forward. It’s clear he’d expected to be able to talk to you in something of vague code without Bora picking up on it- but it seems he’s underestimated the astute woman next to you. 

“You guys are horrible at keeping secrets,” Bora grins, sneaking a glance at Seungcheol, who’s now picked up baby Yumi- “This is so interesting.” 

“The plot thickens,” you offer, unable to say much more than that.

“Oh my god, stop,” Bora says playfully, poking your arm. “Obviously there’s some… agreement that’s been made between you and Cheol, so I’ll try not to prod you for much more information,” she promises, “but I’ll talk to Cheol and the next time we meet, you’ll be able to speak more freely.”

“The next time we meet?” you ask, wondering how the woman can be so sure of herself in every regard.

“We’ll meet again,” she tells you. “Trust me, anyone watching you and Seungcheol- well, anyone who knows him, can tell he really likes you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You think?” 

Bora smiles at you. “Sweet girl, it’s obvious. Trust me, Seungcheol doesn’t bring around just anyone to parties with us, and like I said, he doesn’t often change his schedule for girls either. I don’t care what site you met on, you have that man whipped.”

“Bora-” the psychologist on your left groans.

“Vernon,” she retorts with the same tone. 

They exchange a glance, a battle for dominance, and Bora wins, Vernon releasing a sigh before leaning back in his chair.

“You know what is surprising?” he asks.

“Tell us,” Bora mirrors him, relaxing back against the couch.

“How good Cheol is being with Yumi tonight.” Vernon is watching his friends and the baby again, and soon all three of you are.

“That’s a good point, Vernon,” Bora grins, nudging you a little with her elbow. “I wonder why that is?”

You think her intuition has finally run dry. She can’t be insinuating that you’re partially the reason behind Seungcheol’s apparent baby fever- 

And if she is, she has another shock coming for her when she finally talks to Cheol and finds out that ‘no babies’ was one of the clauses of your dating agreement.

“I think, Cheol’s the kind of man who likes seeing people happy, and Yumi is very expressive” you offer. “People can like babies without wanting one for themselves.”

Bora lets out a scoff. “Right, Mingyu and I always thought we just ‘liked babies,’ and now look at me. Liking babies is always how it starts, and before you know it, nine months have gone by, you’ve turned into a balloon and are buying a new home big enough to raise a family in.”

You are envious of her position, but at the same time, you’re acutely aware that you and Cheol are extremely new to each other. He’s not the kind of man to be hasty- or at least, you’d thought he wasn’t, but as Bora had mentioned, Seungcheol doesn’t introduce just anyone to his friends. 

You’ll have to talk with him about this and you know it, but until then, it’s enough to just sit between his friends and watch him play with Yumi, who seems to give everyone in the vicinity a serious case of baby fever. 

9: Thursday

“Hold up-” Seungkwan says, interrupting you with a wave of his hands, and they land on your knees, “wait a minute- so he makes you sign an NDA, and then invites you out with his friends, and one of them like- bombards you for an hour about him-”

“It wasn’t an hour-”

“Sure-”

“And she wasn’t bombarding,” you correct.

“Ok, fine, yeah, whatever- but then-” Seungkwan takes a deep breath, “he also has a thing about no babies, and in the first week- straight up rubs a baby in your face for an entire night-”

“Yumi was only there for an hour or so before we left-”

“And then!” your best friend interrupts you again, “on the car ride home, instead of discussing it with him like adults- ya’ll put up the separation between you and his hot as fuck driver, and nearly fucked in the back seat-”

“Oh my god, stop-” you groan, “I told you, it was just kissing-”

“With you straddling the man!” Seunkwan yells back. “And all of this, after he switched his schedule to fuck you on Tuesday night- even though you said it would go slow-”

“Actually, he told me he wouldn’t fuck me till the third date, and if we didn’t meet Tuesday, the night with his friends on Wednesday would have been the third date, so-” 

“I swear to fucking god, I have whiplash,” Seungkwan tells you, looking as serious as ever. “Ya’ll make me sick! Sick I say! What in the ever-loving fanfic is this bullshit-”

“Have you been writing more Hannibal and Will love stories again?”

“Maybe.” 

“Are you going to write a fanfic about Will and Hannibal based on me and Cheol?”

“Maybe…” 

“Seungkwan!” 

“Well don’t tell me juicy stories if you don’t want them getting thrown in a sex fantasy! Ya’ll nearly fucked in the back of a car with a hot chauffeur-” 

“I told you-” you begin to defend yourself again, only to be cut off by your phone buzzing.

Both you and Seungkwan look to your cell, placed a foot or two away on the coffee table.

“Daddy,” you both say in unison, and then you’re lurching for your phone.

“Seungkwan stop!” you screech, grabbing onto his sweater when he latches onto the device first.

“Put him on speaker!” Seungkwan declares, holding your cell just out of your reach while it rings.

“Yeah- I’ll put him on speaker-” you fold easily, “just give me the phone!”

Instead of handing it to you right away, your best friend answers the call and hits speaker, then thrusts it towards your face.

“Hi, daddy!” you blurt out, flustered from the small dust up you’d just had with your friend over the entire situation.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the line, then “Hi, sweetheart. It sounds like I’ve interrupted something.”

“Just-” you grab the cell back from Seungkwan, “just had trouble finding my phone is all, was worried you’d be sent to voicemail.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t. It’s good to hear your voice.”

Your heart swoons, and Seungkwan grabs a pillow to scream into. “Good to hear yours too.”

“I’m just calling to see if we’re still on for tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah- do you still want to see me? I know you were very specific when we met about meeting up once or twice a week, and I’ve already seen you twice in the past three days-”

“Once or twice a week, plus the occasional group event,” Seungcheol clarifies for you. “I’d really enjoy having you over tomorrow, if you haven’t already made plans. I won’t hold it against you if you have, I can see how there might have been a small miscommunication- especially after my… erratic behavour this week, fitting you in on Tuesday- scheduling will almost always be smoother than it has been these last few days.”

“I’d love to see you tomorrow- I haven’t made any other plans.”

“Good.” You can hear him smiling. “Since it’s a Friday, and I don’t have any specific work engagements on weekends, how do you feel about bringing an overnight bag?”

Seungkwan drops his pillow.

“I would love that, too-” you say.

“Perfect. Should we say pick up at seven?”

“Sounds great.” 

God, he makes everything so easy-

“Can’t wait to see you again, angel. Have a good evening, you deserve it.”

You deserved to get dicked down.

“Have a good night too, Cheol.” 

10: Friday

When you exit your building, you’re shocked to find a different car - and an entirely different driver - waiting to take you to  Seungcheol’s home.

The man himself is standing aside a sleek, black, two-seater sports car, dressed in his usual suit aesthetic that shows off the broadness of his shoulders- 

You go feral nearly immediately, and it takes everything in you to stop from practically drooling as you close the distance between you and the man who pulls you into a hug that takes you off your feet for a greeting.

“Hey there, angel,” his breath tickles your hair and he sets you back down. He takes your hands gently, holding them out to the sides so he can get a good look at your outfit, a red dress you’d chosen, knowing it’s his favourite colour. “You look gorgeous.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you grin, playing with his fingers.

One quick motion has him spinning you like a dancer, and you find yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Ready to go?” he asks when you’ve come to a stop in front of him again.

“Uh huh,” you nod, giving your head a little shake to pull yourself from a lust-fueled daze, “sorry, I was just- I wasn’t expecting you to be the one picking me up.”

“I gave Seokmin the night off,” Seungcheol tells you, opening the car’s passenger side door and holding out a hand to help you in. “Hope that’s okay,” he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your cheek before taking your overnight bag and closing you into the vehicle.

He puts your bag in the back trunk, then slips into the driver’s seat.

Seungcheol’s hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes gently, offering you a small smile. “I know we’re planning on having you stay the night, but if you decide you don’t want to sleep over, I can always drive you home later.”

“Cheol,” you rest your hand on top of his, “I think we both know I’m not going to take you up on that offer.”

“Sure, but I figured I’d put it on the table regardless.” 

You smile, leaning in to steal a kiss to his cheek, as he had when he helped you into your seat. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“You deserve it,” he insists, giving your thigh another squeeze before reaching for the ignition. 

The car revs to life. 

It’s hard not to stare at Seungcheol while he drives, and luckily, his hand returns to your thigh, giving you something to focus on. You take to playing with his fingers, marveling at how handsome every inch of him is.

“Vernon called me yesterday,” Seungcheol says, dragging your attention from his hands.

“Oh?”

“He admitted to slipping up and giving Bora ideas.” Seungcheol lets out a small chuckle, “said you looked like a deer in headlights when he arrived to the conversation- she was pressing you for details, huh?”

“Not in a bad way,” you tell him, wanting to defend the woman who you’re already coming to think of as a friend. “She was just- curious.”

“It’s my fault for not being specific with you about the NDA, or with Vernon for that matter- the NDA is primarily for when we go to work events outside of our inner circle, which is why your best friend is mentioned on the form you signed- it seems both Vernon and Mingyu were under the idea that I wanted to be highly secretive about us- but I’ve explained to them the nuances of it all. The next time you see Bora, please, feel free to discuss it with her, or Vernon, or Mingyu, Wonwoo, Minji- as long as you’re not too specific with Yumi, you can consider the baby a confidant as well.”

He’s obviously joking about the baby, but the mention of the child brings those same warm fuzzy conflicted feelings that you’d experienced last night at the get-together. 

There will be a time to talk with Seungcheol about his seemingly dualistic baby fever and baby aversion- but tonight is not the night for it.

You’re thankful he’d even brought up the topic of Bora and the NDA, and already, what little anxiety you’d felt about this whole thing has been substantially dwindled.

“I really liked your friends,” you admit, thinking back to how pleasant the evening had been. Despite Bora’s teasing and prying, she’d been nothing but a courteous host when Seungcheol and Mingyu had predictably rejoined you in the living room.

“They liked you too, angel. I knew they would.” He lets go of your thigh in favor of gently taking your hand. 

You can already feel your panties beginning to get wet- 

No man’s hands have ever had this effect on you before- and maybe it has to do, in part, with the whole ‘quirofilia’ thing-

Or maybe, Cheol is simply a man made by the hands of god himself- after all, how could he be this perfect without something like divine intervention?

Before you know it, you’re at Seungcheol’s house, and he’s pulling into the underground garage, where he parks next to the rolls-royce you’re accustomed to being driven in. 

Ever the gentleman, Seungcheol makes sure to come around and open your door for you, your duffle swung over his arm. He refuses to give it back to you, insisting on carrying it up to his home, where the two of you head to his bedroom instinctually.

He sets the bag down, turning to look at you, opening his mouth to say something-

But your patience has already run thin, and you all but launch yourself at the broad man, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his while his hands find your waist.

He laughs into the kiss, and you think he must not have been expecting you to jump him like this. 

Doesn’t he know the effect he has on you?

“Cheol-” you groan, moving your lips to his neck-

“Eager, angel?” Seungcheol reaches down to cup your bum, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. “It was hard being close but not able to properly touch you at the gettogether-” he says, taking a few steps back and collapsing down onto his bed, steadying you on top of him, “Could hardly even get work done today-”

“Was I that distracting for you, daddy?” you coo, teeth teasing past his earlobe.

He releases a groan, hands digging into your hips, forcing you down on his cock, which presses up against his dress pants, caught between your bodies. “Always.” 

“How can I fix it?” you wonder out loud, hands already going for the buttons of his shirt. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“You do, angel,” Seungcheol tells you, “make daddy feel so good.” 

“Wanna make you feel even better-” Then an idea comes to your head, “How about… a massage?” you suggest, thinking back to a paragraph you’d read from his book yesterday. “Aren’t you the one who claims relaxation time, such as stretching, massages, and the like, can be just as beneficial to the mind and body as activity itself?”

“Look at you, quoting my own work at me,” he releases a deep groan. “Are you sure that’s what you want to get up to tonight?”

“Just to start,” you tell him. “We have the whole evening- and tomorrow morning- why not start the night off with something like a massage? And work our way into…” you swivel your hips, “harder things.” 

“I like the sound of that, angel,” he confesses with another sigh of pleasure as you kiss the sweet spot just under his ear. “But you’ve got to let me get up so I can grab massage oil.”

You’d forgotten about that part, and the idea of letting Seungcheol leave you - even for a moment - brings out a bratty side of you that you’ve never truly experienced. 

It takes all your willpower to concede, getting off of the man who sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “You okay?” he questions, seeing the shift in your energy.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just hurry.”

He laughs, reaching out to gently pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The kiss he places on your lips is as chaste as your first had been, and it leaves you tingling with potential, even as he stands and heads to the ensuite bathroom.

In his absence, you begin to take off your clothes, removing everything down to your bra and panties, and then, just for good measure, you settle onto your knees on the foot of his bed, trying to be as patient as possible.

You’re rewarded when Seungcheol appears in the doorway again, having stripped himself of his shirt. There’s a bottle of baby oil trapped between his teeth, and his hands are working on his belt and pants- 

When he sees you sitting on the foot of his bed, like the best girl there ever was, he lets the baby bottle drop from his mouth, catching it easily in one hand- “look at you,” he breathes, scanning your form. 

“Like what you see, daddy?” you tease, skin heating from the attention he gives you.

“Love it,” he tells you. “How good are your reflexes, darling?”

You open your mouth to respond, only to have him toss the bottle of oil at you. 

Unlike him, you don’t catch it gracefully, the bottle almost slipping out of your hands- there’s a small fumble but your digits wrap around it-

Seungcheol laughs at you. “With butter fingers like that- should I be getting us a towel to put down?” 

You hate that it’s a legitimate question.

And you doubly hate that the answer is a resounding yes, which you verbalize to him, annoyed that he’ll be leaving again-

But then you’re graced with a full view of his beautiful back when he turns to head into the bathroom again, and you decide to be a good, patient girl for just a few more moments.

Seungcheol returns, and you bite your tongue while you watch him set the towel down, but as soon as it’s settled, you find yourself saying - in something like a command - “on your stomach first,” you’re quick to adjust to your tone, “I wanna work your back out a little to start.”

“How could I say no to that?” Seungcheol grins, following through and laying flat on the towel.

You nearly drool while watching him adjust his arms, propping his head up with both hands under his chin. His biceps are bulging and your mouth is definitely beginning to water again, prompting you to lick your lips-

“Have you given many massages before?” he asks, as you straddle his hips, continuing to marvel at the shape of his perfect form-

“Erm- define many?” 

He chuckles, and you flip the cap of the baby oil, allowing the liquid to pour into your palm. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“It can’t be that hard,” you tell him, bringing your hands to the muscled back that has you wet like the ocean every time you see it.

“Tell that to my chiropractor,” he says, a joke that makes you both laugh.

You begin to work away at his muscles, both hands smoothing up and down his back, focusing in on the shoulders you love so much-

“Feels good,” Seungcheol groans, releasing a deep sigh of relief that has your ego shooting through the roof. 

“That’s good daddy,” you tell him, leaning over him and applying more of your body weight as pressure for your hands. “You deserve to relax.”

He chuckles slightly, and you realize you’re picking up on some of his diction. Hasn’t he been the one telling you what you deserve thus far? 

All it takes is you being on top and you begin to emulate his mannerisms, the soft dom tendency towards praise. 

You can tell he’s enjoying it, and you are too, your panties getting wetter with every second your hands are on his broad shoulders-

 “Can you flip now?” you prompt, knowing it hasn’t been that long that you’ve been working on his back- but you miss his face, and you’re eager to get your hands on his chest-

With a grunt of affirmation, Seungcheol begins to turn, and you lift yourself off of him enough to allow the movement. Once he’s on his back, you settle down again, capturing his cock between your bodies as it strains against his pants.

“You like this position, huh?” he asks, smiling up at you with an expression that exudes adoration. 

His hands find your thighs, rubbing up and down while you get more oil on your palms. “Not always,” you tell him, beginning to massage his chest, “top can be fun to start, in some cases, but- I really liked being under you the last time we were in your bed.”

“Oh yeah?” 

You avoid his gaze, knowing your skin is heating from what you’d just admitted. “Uh huh.”

“You’re cute,” he breathes, rubbing circles on your thighs, “getting all shy while sitting on top of me like this.”

“I’m trying to focus,” you tell him, trailing your fingers down to his abdomen. 

“You look a little dazed, darling,” he presses, “are you sure you don’t want me to take over?”

“I’ve hardly massaged you yet-” you go to argue, but Seungcheol is already making the move to sit up.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and tilts your head back the way he had last time- his breath is hot against your throat, and he trails his nose up under your jaw, bringing his lips to your ear. “What if I don’t care about the massage anymore?”

“Then-” you swallow thickly, pussy throbbing when his free hand unclasps your bra behind you, “then, okay.”

“Okay?” he chuckles. “My love, I don’t think ‘then, okay’ is a sentence.”

“Fuck me?”

“Not too sure that’s a sentence either, but, your wish is my command.”

It seems like the easiest thing in the world for him to discard your bra and flip you onto your back, lips finding your own, tearing your breath away.

Your legs tighten around his waist, and his oiled chest slides against yours, your newly freed nipples pebbling at the direct contact-

One of his hands, slides between your bodies, skimming over your breast and cupping it, squeezing. You release a moan of pleasure, hips bucking, pushing up towards him-

Your own hands slide over his slippery shoulders, and you mentally kick yourself for having lubed him up- there’s hardly anything to grasp onto, so you latch onto his hair instead, kissing him harder.

He releases your breast, hand slipping down and under the waistband of your panties. When his fingers find your core, they tease past your clit, and you can feel the silkiness of the baby oil on his digits, which glide into your wet hole as easily as ever. 

“Cheol-” you moan desperately, wanting to push your hips up- to get closer, but he holds you down with his large body, lips moving to your neck.

You realize, as his expert fingers crook up and find your gspot, that the last time you’d fucked, he’d never fingered you. You’d gotten to experience his tongue and his cock, but the middle and ring fingers that explore your pussy have something like trained exactitude, hitting the spot that has your toes curling with deadly precision. 

“Oh my god-” you whimper, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, looking for an anchor while he begins to thrust his digits into you with enough force that your hips begin to rock-

The palm of his hand applies pressure to your clit, rubbing you through the rough manhandling that has you achingly close to an orgasm within no time-

“Gonna cum?” he prompts in your ear, hot breath making your skin tingle.

“Yes, daddy-” it’s the most you can do to hold onto him and clench your eyes shut, an intense feeling of euphoric pressure erupting between your legs-

“That’s it gorgeous, let it all out-” he groans, fingers unrelenting-

You can hear your pussy, squelching sinfully around his fingers- and you can feel wetness gushing between your thighs-

In the back of your mind, you realize you’re squirting, cumming completely undone on his hand, but you’re too lost in the feeling of it to care.

He finger fucks you to the point of overwhelm, until your whines and whimpers are hoarse and tears well in the corners of your shut eyes-

And then he’s pulling his hand out of your panties, and the soaked material is left to cling back to your sopping hole.

Your arms go slack, landing on the bed next to you, and Seungcheol pulls away from your body, making you moan desperately, eyes opening to watch him-

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” he promises, pushing his own pants down before kicking them to the side, then he goes to tear your panties off, and you see, for the first time, how truly ruined they are. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone squirt this much,” he tells you, discarding the fabric so he can rejoin you on the bed, the both of you fully nude. “Did that feel good?”

“So good-” you whimper, hardly able to form sentences in your delirious, sex induced brain fog-

Seungcheol slots himself between your thighs again, cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing away the tear that’s escaped your eye. “Do you need a moment?”

“No!” you’re quick to protest, locking your legs around his hips. “Fuck me- daddy- please-”

You don’t think any cock has ever entered you as smoothly as his does, aided by the copious amount of wet arousal still dribbling out of your hole.

Seungcheol tucks his face against the crook of your neck, supporting himself above you with two hands buried into the pillow on either side of your head. His lips are feverish against your throat, and the groans he releases as he begins to fuck you make you as horny as ever.

“You feel so fucking good,” he moans, rutting into you with a pace and power that increases with every slap of skin on skin- “so perfect for me-”

“Daddy-” you whine, clawing at his back while he ravages your insides.

“So responsive-” his teeth graze past your neck and you shiver, whole body tingling with delight.

“Harder-” you moan.

“Harder?” he releases something like a laugh, and then you hear him swallow, adjusting his position so he can dig his elbows into the bed, hooking his forearms under your own shoulders, which props you up ever so slightly- enough to change the angle and allow him to follow through with your request.

You release a squeak at the feeling of being completely at his mercy, completely wrapped in Cheol while he’s wrapped in you- the perfect combination really.

The sounds escaping you aren’t something you can hold back, and each rough thrust has his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you, a spot that has you becoming a mewling, moaning, whimpering mess for him.

“Just like that-” you tell him desperately, grabbing at his hair, eager to hold onto something while you get fucked into oblivion-

“You close, gorgeous?” he asks, and all you can do is moan, which makes him chuckle, “yeah you are,” he breathes. “Squeezing daddy so fucking tight- you were made for this, weren’t you, angel?”

“Yes-” 

“Made to be fucked-” he growls, rutting into you even harder-

You’re not sure where sweet, soft dom Seungcheol has gone, but you’re more than happy to be decimated by the man fucking into you like an animal, and his sinful praisings go straight to your pussy, which clenches around him even more.

“That’s it angel, that’s it-” he groans, “just a little more-” one of his hands moves to grab your thigh, hiking it higher on his waist-

He hits a spot that has you seeing stars, and you gasp loudly, crying out-

“Cum for me,” he instructs, and before your mind has even registered his words, your pussy is following through with the command, clamping down onto him while the biggest orgasm of your life slams into you like a freight train. 

Seungcheol lets out delicious sounds of pleasure, gasping against your throat, fucking you through your orgasm while coating your insides with his own release-

You’re completely surrounded by him.

There’s nothing else, only you and Cheol… and perhaps the ruined towel below you, dragging against your back with each rough thrust.

His motions begin to slow, and he comes to a stop, collapsing some of his body weight down against you while you both struggle to catch your breath. 

Neither of you say anything, too lost in the aftershocks of pleasure.

But with Cheol, you don’t need to say anything. You’re completely safe with him, completely content to rest in his arms, knowing there’s not a single place in the world you’d rather be.

11: Saturday

Waking up in Seungcheol’s bed, you immediately stretch in search of him- only to find the bed empty.

Sitting up, and wrapping the quilt around your nude body, you look around, blinking away residual grogginess. 

The man who’d fucked you silly until the late hours of the morning is nowhere to be seen, and you can’t help the way annoyance floods through you. But you remind yourself that Seungcheol likes his schedules, and a quick check of the clock next to the bed shows you that it’s eleven am, so you suppose you can’t be mad at Cheol for not staying with you while you slept half the day away.

Getting out of bed, you’re surprised to find just how sore your body is. 

Your thighs burn- and you suppose a round number five riding session may have not been the best idea last night.

You find the simple black sleeping shirt Seungcheol had given you before deciding to tear it off of you for round six, and you enjoy the way it dwarfs you. 

Sometimes you still can’t believe how big and broad Cheol is- 

Finding your overnight bag, you take out a fresh pair of panties, and decide to head off in search of Seungcheol in the simple shirt and underwear look. It’s doubtful you’ll be wearing it for much longer regardless.

It’s not hard to find your psychologist lover, after all, you simply have to follow the smell of food to the kitchen. 

Your sugar daddy is standing at the stove, one hand holding a spatula while he cooks eggs, the other propping up a book that he’s quietly reading.

He’s so sexy and smart- and sexy… and smart.

You can’t help but tiptoe towards him, latching onto his back and pressing your cheek against the space between his shoulder blades, releasing a groan of pleasure to finally be connected to him again.

“Morning, angel,” Seungcheol greets you, setting his book down before adjusting you, tugging you so you’re in front of him and he can meet your eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than ever,” you beam at him, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “And you?”

“Never better,” he returns your smile, and your heart practically melts. “Hungry?”

“Definitely- are you my master chef today?”

He laughs. “I’m not sure I’m that good, cooking is a hobby I’ve only truly picked up in recent years.”

“Right,” you say, turning in his arms to look down at the pan in front of you. “Very hard ingredient, eggs.”

Seungcheol releases a cross between a chuckle and a sigh behind you, poking at your ribcage. “I can make more than eggs. I just figured, I don’t really know what you like when it comes to food, so I’d make something safe and healthy. Besides, I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up.”

“So this is just for you, is that what you’re saying?” you tease him some more, enjoying the domesticity of this- it’s as if you’ve done this a hundred times before, or at least, you have the peace that comes with familiarity.

“If I had known you were such a brat-” he begins, but you cut him off with a squeal and turn to face him again, insisting “I’m not a brat!”

He simply looks at you with a smile.

“You’re being mean to me,” you pout, cupping the back of his neck and getting closer to him. 

Seungcheol scoffs, shaking his head slightly. He’s quick to change the subject. “Eggs are done, are you going to come sit with me at the table?”

With a sigh, you release the psychologist, allowing him to move the eggs to a plate- and when you turn to head to the table, you see a tray of fresh fruit and other breakfast items.

“There’s orange juice in the fridge, water, or I can make you some coffee,” Seungcheol says, following you to the table where you both take your seats. 

“I’m okay for now,” you tell him, grabbing a particularly tasty-looking piece of fruit to gnaw on. “Thanks, daddy.”

Seungcheol smiles, looking down at the healthy fruit options. “You know,” he says, moving a few pieces of cantaloupe and honeydew to his plate, “I’ve been wondering about you and your daddy kink.”

“Hmm?” 

“Just that- we’ve never discussed it, not explicitly- I guess, being a sugar daddy, the term is in the name, but… you took to it very easily,” he explains.

“Are you suggesting I have inherent daddy issues?”

“Not suggesting, merely… wondering.”

“How about this,” you set your fruit down, “I’ll talk about my daddy issues when you tell me why you think you’d be a bad father.”

Seungcheol looks at you quizzically. 

“I know you say it’s about your work and not having enough time, but- you’re settled in your career and reputation. You have this big house, a chauffeur, a group of smart psychologist friends who are popping out babies right now- and I saw the way you were with baby Yumi. looking at all of that- the only reason I can think of for why you’d be… adverse to babies, is that you have some personal reasons to think you’d be bad at it.” 

The man across from you stays quiet, leaning back in his chair, but a smile works its way across his face. Then, he sighs, “touche.” 

“So I guess neither of us will be talking about our daddy issues at the breakfast table,” you conclude, picking at your fruit again.

“How did I ever find a girl like you on a dating site?” Seungcheol says. “So pretty, and smart-”

“How did I ever find you on a dating site?” you retort, “so sexy, and smart-”

“Maybe finding each other was destiny.”

“Do you believe in that sort of thing?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. “Many men of science that I’ve heard of tend to lean towards atheism.”

“Maybe I used to, but then- let’s just say, I found an angel, and my world’s been flipped upside down ever since.” 

Your heart leaps in your chest, and you avert your gaze, looking down at your fruit. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“As I’ve told you before, angel,” Seungcheol reaches his hand across the table, placing it over your own, “you deserve it.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! this fic was never supposed to be this long- i don't know what came over me- it was very self-indulgent :) hope you liked it!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. You can’t believe how easy it is for Seungcheol to get you quaking for him- but you suppose, in some sense, you’re always quaking for your sugar daddy, who’d turned the entire trajectory of your life around the moment you’d met.

cw/ tw. oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, daddy/breeding kink, bickering like an old married couple, praise, semi-bondage, size kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 370

🌙 staring. seungcheol x afab!Reader  

bonus teaser

“Are you checking your book sales again?” you groan, leaning over the back of the sunlounger chair to look over Seungcheol’s shoulders, your hands smoothing down his bare chest-

“No,” your psychologist lover says, closing his laptop and setting it on the side table next to him. 

“Liar,” you grin, moving around the front of his chair so he can see you and the red bikini adorning your body- one of many sets you’ve accumulated over the two and a half years you’ve been dating Seungcheol. 

You have no actual intent of going into the private pool behind you.

Seungcheol’s eyes eat you up, and the smile of appreciation that works its way onto his lips is as bright and full of affection as it’s always been. “Look at you, angel. I’ll never get tired of seeing you in red.”

“Ass kisser,” you tease, watching him stand up from the poolside chair. “I thought we agreed no work on our honeymoon.”

“It’s true that I promised that- but… checking sales on my new book isn’t work, it’s… checking sales on my new book, and besides, you were asleep,” your husband grins, hands finding your waist and tugging you to his chest. “What if you pretend you never saw me on my laptop.”

You roll your eyes. He’s gotten cheekier the longer you’ve been together, and this playful side of your relationship isn’t something you’d trade for the entire world. 

“You always get up to naughty things while I’m sleeping,” you tease, playing the part of an upset wife.

“Come on,” Seungcheol prompts, leaning down to kiss you, “say you love me.”

“I’ll say I love you when you fulfill your other promise.”

“You know, we’re what, three days into this vacation?” Seungcheol pulls you closer. “Who’s to say I haven’t already pumped a baby into you?”

“Me,” you grin, hooking your fingers in his swim trunks. “I don’t feel full at all right now, in any way, shape, or form.”

“Well then, let’s see what I can do about filling you up sufficiently,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you one last time before throwing you over his shoulder and taking you back into your private vacation villa..

God, you fucking love this man.

☀️to read the full bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

© smileysuh — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed

general taglist: (send me an ask to join either tag list:)

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa

svt taglist:

@romromthedeer - @strawbwebbie - @rebeccasficrecs

@alltowoo - @taestrwbrry - @13956789 - @greysdarling

@joonsneptune - @jedi-nightingale 

And thank you to everyone who interacted with the teaser :)

@just-here-to-read-01 - @shmooooo - @sysymei - @dejavernon

@woo8hao - @pussyfairytale - @minkwans - @millysfavfics

@yell0w-iris - @hoshi-mochi - @twenty1stcenturygirl -

@joonsytip - @zenitsuns - @loveandlettre

Tumblr has tag limits these days, so i'll be tagging others who interacted with the teaser in reblogs :)

#seungcheol #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol smut #svthub #svt smut #svt #s.coups smut #s.coups #seungcheol x reader #seventeen smut #seungcheol svt #svt seungcheol #scoups svt #scoups svt smut #seungcheol svt smut #sugar daddy seungcheol #sugar daddy svt

[bangtanintotheroom]

Plug & Play (M)

• Pairing: Guitarist!Hongjoong x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Rock Band!AU, Smut, Strangers to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 10.3k

• Summary: Tonight is the night that you quit being a bystander and make a move towards the guitarist on stage with the devilish smile.

• Warnings/themes: a rock show!, swearing, drinking, pining, Y/N is a horny bean, Hongjoong and his dangerous smiles 🫠, Yeosang the wingman, flirting, making out, semi-public sex, oral (f. receiving), mentions of oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, fingering, fingers in mouth, finger sucking, protected sex (be responsible!), clothed sex, multiple orgasms

• Notes: SHE’S HEEEEERE 🗣️ the manifestation of my new love for yet another leader hehehehe 😚 I don't have much to say other than thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for doing a look-over, everyone enjoy and think of blond, rockstar HJ the whole time!

• Taglist: @loveateez @mellikestoread @itza-meee @roomsofangel @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @kiestrokes

“I’m gonna fuck him.”

Yeosang stared at you from behind the counter, wondering if he heard you right amidst the clinking glasses and rock music.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m gonna fuck him, Yeo.”

“Who?”

You rolled your eyes, rotating ninety degrees to point at the object of your desire on the stage.

“Him.”

There was little surprise on your end at the scoff you heard from behind.

“You’re still on that mission?”

Your head whipped around incredulously. “Yes! Why are you shocked by this?”

Yeosang’s expression reeked of indifference as he wiped some bottles down.

“Because I thought you would have given up by now.”

“I don’t give up easily, dude—” Your eyes watched as that certain someone tuned their guitar strings. “—especially when I really want something.”

And you really wanted the man you had in your sights.

Your roommate Yeosang worked as a bartender at a small yet intimate venue where many up-and-coming bands liked to perform, in hopes of recognition. He invited you to visit one night, knowing you loved to get a peek at new music. You couldn’t refuse the offer, especially when he snuck you a couple of free drink vouchers.

When you had come by the first night, you were surprised at the amount of people hanging both outside and inside the building. The couple of times you had stopped by previously to drop something off, only half of the room was filled. But this time had attendees hugging the wall and the bar counter, shoulder to shoulder.

Once you managed to reach Yeosang, you waited until he wasn’t scurrying with shot glasses to ask if there was a special occasion. He answered mid-pour and said one of the local bands was playing soon and their loyal fans flocked in when they got word. Leaving him to his work, you melded into the crowd, studying what the demographic was.

The ratio of women to men was in favor of the former, making you wonder just what kind of group was performing tonight.

You got your answer when the lights went down and screams erupted around you, nearly rupturing your poor eardrums. But when the lights came back on, you could see why.

Five insanely gorgeous men were spread across the stage, each with an instrument in their hands.

They all had their own aura, represented by their outfits and the expressions on their faces. Although, there was one in particular that caught your attention.

The one holding a shiny black guitar like it was his child.

His platinum blond hair caught your eye before you took in the rest of him. You liked how the sharp angles of his face had areas of softness that could disarm even the coldest of people. His outfit was flattering and a good balance of comfortable yet showy. But his smile was what nearly knocked you off your feet.

The way his white teeth would often flash while he strummed his instrument had a grin coming up on your own face. You could see that he was someone who cherished his craft by the way he’d keep up with the other members’ pace. And he would never stay in one place; you’d often catch him jumping around on the stage, from standing next to the drummer to nearly teetering on the edge in front of fans.

Plus, he was just adorable. But the cuteness would go into its hiding place at times, leaving a man that began altering your brain chemistry.

Too many times did you find your breath hitching whenever he’d throw his head back, mouth agape as he got into the music, fixated on the drops of sweat rolling down his neck. Or whenever he’d lower his head, looking up into the crowd with the wickedest of smirks that had you fantasizing about a certain position that would grant that view as well.

Before your mind could fully catch up on whatever was happening in front of your eyes, cheers erupted around you. You blinked into reality and watched as the band waved and thanked everyone for attending tonight before making their way off the stage. You were jostled into moving when an attendee bumped your shoulder, shooting an apology to your still form.

Desperately needing to decompress, you ran to the bar to catch Yeosang as he finished making a tray of shots. He could tell by the look on your face that he made a good choice in inviting you out before your mouth began running a mile a minute. You didn’t care if he wasn’t able to hear half of your ramblings, running to continue doing his job as a sudden wave of people came by.

Your excitement had to get out of your system somehow.

But it turns out even that wasn’t enough.

You would keep thinking about the handsome guitarist on a day to day basis, at the most inopportune moments. It didn’t help that you would look up the band’s music online and listen during your commutes and free time. They legitimately made good tunes, playing to their strengths and composing lyrics that wouldn’t escape your head.

Lyrics that were joined by the constant flashing of a devious smile.

And so you found yourself returning to the venue for their next show. To say Yeosang was stunned by your surprise appearance was an understatement. You managed to shrug it off and say that you were starting to become a budding fan of Halazia.

It was technically the truth. He didn’t need to know about your other reason…yet.

With this visit, you were hoping you’d catch the blond doing something that would kill your interest or that your eye would wander onto some of his bandmates instead.

You realized by the end of the performance that it was futile.

Not even the drummer going shirtless halfway through to show off his well-muscled physique could completely distract you from the fully clothed one wailing on his guitar. Trudging out of the building with two cocktails down had you realizing how doomed you were.

When your titillating thoughts started forming into full-blown fantasies, you had to come up with a solid way to get them to disappear. At first, you hoped your hand and a few explicit videos would be enough, but even that got old after a while.

Which led to your current objective as you watched the band continue to set up for the night.

It might be a pipe dream, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried, right?

Yeosang thought it was ridiculous, but never said it was impossible or a bad idea. He begrudgingly supported you from the sidelines, even if he called you crazy at times. A true friend, through and through.

“Oh, don’t I know it. You kept hounding me for weeks to help you put your bookshelf up.”

“And you did such a fantastic job! Shit would have fallen apart if I did it myself.”

Yeosang shook his head at your flattery, yet the tiniest of smiles tugged at his mouth. “Uh huh.”

Giggling, you picked up your glass and finished off the last sip. After you set it down, you sensed a person coming up to stand next to you.

“Yeosang!”

The bartender grinned at them. “Yunho! Amazing job, as always.”

“Ah, stop, you say that every time. Do you mind if I put in an order?”

“Not at all. What would you like?”

Curiosity got the best of you and you looked up to see what this Yunho looked like. Imagine your surprise when you saw the bassist of Halazia standing next to you. Damn, he was tall.

“Two rounds of shots and eight beers, please.”

Yeosang lifted his brow in that fashion of his before replying, “Eight? Not ten?”

Yunho sighed and shrugged. “Seonghwa is feeling fussy tonight and San needs to be able to walk home.”

“Makes sense. Alright, give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Yunho seemed to notice you watching the conversation now, giving you a polite smile before heading back to his table. Your eyes followed him until he sat down, switching targets to take in the blond man with a megawatt smile next to him. Just watching as he threw his head back and laughed had your heart pumping faster.

You couldn’t hold off any longer. You had to do something tonight.

Your mind began coming up with a plan on how to approach while you turned back around, watching as Yeosang began putting together the drinks.

“Damn, big order.”

“Tell me about it. They must be parched after their performance.”

You studied the two trays as he started filling it with shot glasses and beer bottles, knowing that he’d have to make two trips to get everything there.

…or just one trip, if he had an extra set of hands.

You could see the lightbulb start to flicker on now. A simple yet effective plan to get within speaking distance of the man who had been plaguing your thoughts for the last couple of weeks came to fruition. You committed to your decision just as the bartender finished up the order.

Okay. Showtime.

“Hey Yeo—” Your roommate paused as he was reaching for one of the full drink trays. “—need some help there?”

Yeosang blinked owlishly at your offer.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know, Y/N. It wouldn’t be good if you dropped these.”

“Hey now, I used to be a waitress, remember? Come on, it’ll save you some time.”

You watched as he pondered for a moment, grinning in triumph when he nodded.

“Alright, grab one and let’s go.”

A salute was given as you hopped off your stool, carefully reaching for one of the trays and lifting it above your shoulder. Muscle memory took over as you balanced it, waiting until Yeosang came out from behind the counter and led the way. You made sure to not run into anyone and kept an eye out for any sudden surprises, thankful when you reached the table in one piece.

And even more thankful at one of the pairs of eyes that landed on you.

“Our savior!”

The one man you recognized as the lead singer rejoiced as you and Yeosang set the trays down on the table, bringing a giggle out of you.

“Jongho, I didn’t hear water in Yunho’s order…”

Yeosang’s playfully stern tone made Jongho wave a hand in the air. “Water, shmater, we’re big boys! We can hold our drinks!”

“We can, not this one, though.”

The next one that piped up was the unusually beautiful man you saw strumming away at his rhythm guitar, pointing to the pouting drummer who now wore a white tee.

“Hyung, don’t call me out like that!”

“San, we had to carry you out the last time, we’re not looking for a repeat.”

Your focus was now on the object of your desires as he gave San a strict yet concerned look, the expression only making him look even better.

“You won’t, that’s why I passed on the beer!”

The guitarist made an unconvinced sound. “We shall see.”

Yeosang chuckled and interjected, “I’ll bring some water over, just to be safe. Sound good, Hongjoong?”

Now you learned that the man you had been eyeing up was Hongjoong, trying not to stare too hard as he grinned at your friend.

“Definitely.”

He caught you off-guard by shooting you a smile now.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Your reaction was delayed, but you managed to give a nod, forcing yourself to follow Yeosang as he headed back to the bar. Only then did you realize you were holding a breath in, exhaling as you leaned on the counter.

“Fuck.”

“I thought you were going to hop on his lap for a moment.”

You shot a scowl at Yeosang as he worked on getting the water together.

“Yeo, I’m not that shameless. I was just…taken aback.”

He looked up to give you an unconvinced stare, paired with a lifted brow.

“Sure, let’s call it that.”

He looked back down in time to miss the middle finger you shot. While he continued, you started reining yourself in from the very brief encounter.

You learned two things; Hongjoong was his name and he was even more handsome up close. Stage lights weren’t over exaggerating his sharp features, his nose and jaw looking like they’d be able to cut glass. His grin was blinding and the teeth beneath them were damn near perfect.

Although, you wished you had mustered enough courage to say something to him.

It would be somewhat awkward to go back empty-handed and start a conversation with him, especially with his bandmates right there. Just because you wanted to get in his pants didn’t mean you wanted to come off as nothing but a groupie to them.

“Here.”

Your thinking was interrupted when two full pitchers of water were placed in front of you, prompting you to look at Yeosang with bewilderment.

“Maybe this time you can actually talk to the guy.”

His suggestion finally clicked, your eyes widening in gratitude.

“I fucking love you, Yeosang.”

He smiled and shook his head, giving one of your hands a pat. “You can tell me through your teriyaki chicken, Y/N. Go on.”

With a megawatt grin and a mental note to pick up some chicken to cook tomorrow, you lifted both pitchers before turning to make your way back to the table. You had to make sure your hands didn’t shake the closer you got, not wanting to spill water on any of the guys.

As soon as you were close enough, you cleared your throat to capture their attention.

“Your water, gentlemen.”

Setting the refreshments down brought a small wave of cheers.

“Thank you! Maybe we can get San out of here in one piece tonight.”

“Aish, stop!” San batted at Jongho’s head, the vocalist dodging as he snickered.

You grinned at the two’s antics, straightening up when you realized something.

“Oh, I should get you guys some glasses. I’ll be right back.”

You quickly turned around and power walked to the bar, asking Yeosang for a small stack of drinking glasses before returning.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Are you new here?”

Your head shook at Seonghwa’s question. “No, I don’t even work here. Just helping my friend out while he gets slammed with customers.”

The pretty guitarist smiled softly.

“That’s very nice of you.”

Your cheeks couldn’t help but warm a tiny bit, shooting him the same look. “Thank you. He has to listen to enough of my ranting at home, might as well ease his pain somehow.”

Yunho blinked curiously before asking, “You’re roommates?”

“Mhm.”

He made a sound of understanding, yet another voice cut in before he could say anything.

“Thought you looked familiar.”

You focused your sight on Hongjoong, recognition on his attractive face that had your heart beating a little faster.

“Me?”

“Yeah—” His mouth quirked. “—thought I saw you hanging around Yeosang the last few times we were here.”

Oof. You weren’t sure how to react to him basically saying that he recognized you from afar. It wasn’t a bad thing, at all, considering your end goal, but you were surprised he even remembered with the amount of people in this building.

All you could muster was a scratch of the back of your neck, trying not to fluster further under his gaze.

“Haha, that’s me, always bugging him.”

Hongjoong gave a soft laugh, eyes scrunching in humor. It only made you more bashful, trying your best not to rub the toe of your boot into the ground.

Noticing that Yunho was roped into a conversation with the others now, it left you alone with the lead guitarist.

A window of opportunity!

But for some reason, you couldn’t muster the words to continue speaking with him. Even though he continued to acknowledge you with his gaze, your eyes averted to watch the stage behind the dining tables.

“Hey.”

Your ears perked up, looking down to see Hongjoong eyeing you with curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

A lifesaver.

You had to hold back the large grin you wanted to give, settling for a polite smile instead.

“Y/N.”

He returned your expression, nodding before replying, “Nice to meet you, I’m Hongjoong. Actually, you probably already knew that.”

With a little more confidence, you replied, “I actually didn’t. I’m pretty bad with names, plus I was too distracted by your performances to really focus on that.”

Hongjoong lifted a bleached brow, cocking his head.

“Oh yeah? You like us that much?”

You nodded with little shame. “Absolutely. I’m surprised you guys aren’t a household name by now.”

Hongjoong grinned, although it was paired with a slight flush of his cheeks.

“Stop, we’re not that good.”

“But you are! Look, I’ve been seeing local bands since I was a teen and I can say you guys are one of the best.”

Something a bit sobering slithered in his eyes as he stared you down, lips straight as a line.

“No bullshit?”

Now you managed to keep the gaze steady.

“None whatsoever.”

It was another few seconds before he finally took your compliment, appreciation written all over his face now.

“Thank you, Y/N. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course! I wish I knew about your music earlier—” You frowned. “—I’ve only seen you guys play a couple of times.”

Hongjoong shrugged, saying with more positivity, “A couple is better than none.”

You could see he had a point so you nodded in agreement. But all of a sudden, you wondered if you were bothering him. He had just finished a harrowing performance; maybe he wanted to kick back and relax with his friends, not indulge you with conversation.

“Hongjoong?”

“Hm?”

This hurt to say, but—

“If you want me to give you some space, I can.”

The musician gave you a look that came off as bewildered. “I don’t mind. Unless you have somewhere to get to?”

A hand came up to wave in the air as you placated, “No, I don’t, but I’d hate to impose—”

“Looooving youuu~ Is easy ‘cause you’re beautiful~”

Out of nowhere, singing erupted, prompting both you and Hongjoong to look at the source of the sudden noise. What greeted you had you chuckling.

“Seems like the drinks are already starting to set in.”

The blond’s wisecrack had you raising a brow as you both took in Jongho holding San’s face as he crooned a love song to him and Yunho waving his hands to the beat while Seonghwa pulled his phone out to record the tender moment.

“I can see that.”

Hongjoong scoffed in amusement and shook his head.

“Every time.” He glanced aside for a moment before looking at you again. “Maybe we should move somewhere quieter.”

The suggestion made your heart skip, unaware of what the intentions were behind it.

“Oh?”

“Yeah—” His sudden beam erased any doubt you had. “—I can’t get to know you with all this noise here.”

You uttered a silent thanks to both Yeosang and whatever being resided in the sky for giving you this opportunity. You held back a bit as you grinned and said, “Lead the way.”

Hongjoong was quick to stand up, grabbing his two beer bottles before jerking his head towards the stage. With a quick glance to make sure his friends were still occupied, you began following him. He walked to the foot of the stage and sat his drinks down, using his hands to lift himself and sit on the ledge. You followed suit, taking care to make sure your skirt didn’t ride up, sitting as close as possible without getting in his personal space.

As soon as you were situated, a bottle turned up under your nose.

“Thirsty?”

You blinked at the offer. “You sure? It’s your beer.”

The blond shrugged, wiggling the brown glass a bit.

“My beer, but I’ll make it yours now.”

A chuckle came out as you accepted the drink, peeling off the half-open cap before taking a sip.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So—” Hongjoong took a sip from his own bottle. “—are you a regular here?”

You shook your head.

“Surprisingly, no. I’ve been to almost every venue in town except for this one. Figured I’d give Yeo a rest from seeing me at home and work.”

Hongjoong snickered, lips curled in humor.

“Understandable. I’m guessing we were your first show here?”

“You were. Have you guys been playing here for a while?”

He hummed, looking up in thought before responding, “Kind of. This was our seventh performance here, but we’ve been playing at other places too. I’d have to say this is the best looking one, by far.”

“Let me guess—” Your mouth twisted up on one side. “—you’ve performed at Miroh?”

The way Hongjoong grimaced was enough of an answer for you.

“Sadly. Never again. Yunho almost got a bottle to the head because his amp was a little too loud.”

“Yikes.”

The two of you decided to move away from the topic of horrendous dive bars and to lighter ones, from behind the scenes knowledge about Halazia to what you did outside of going to concerts. You liked that Hongjoong had an equal part in the conversation continuing, not wanting to come off as desperate and scrambling for something else to talk about.

Not that you couldn’t find anything.

He was rather easy to talk to, paying close attention whenever you spoke and answering your questions with thoroughness. The way he would motion with his hands at certain points endeared him to you, smiling and giggling with admiration at his theatrics. It was also fun just to watch him, in general.

“So how do you like living with Yeosang?”

The subject change surprised you a bit, but you answered after finishing off your beer. “No complaints on my end. Well, except that he can be a space cadet at times.”

Hongjoong snickered over the lip of his bottle.

“Not surprised he’s still like that.”

Your ears perked at his statement, giving him a curious stare.

“Still?”

“Mhm. We used to live together, at one point.”

If you were in the middle of drinking, you would have had to hold back from choking or spitting in shock.

“Really?!”

Hongjoong nodded, lips stretched at your stunned reaction.

“He mentioned having a roommate before me, but I never would have dreamed that it’d be you.”

The musician shrugged and replied, “To be fair, I wasn’t around much. Spent most of my time at the studio or at work. I only moved out when Seonghwa got a spot open at his place.”

Following along with his explanation, you decided to be mischievous and question, “Was it that or did you drive poor Yeo crazy?”

Hongjoong feigned offense, a twinkle in his widened eyes as he leaned back.

“Y/N, are you accusing me of being a bad roommate?”

You couldn’t hold the urge to lightly tap your foot against his, smirking with impishness.

“And what if I am?”

Lifting a bleached brow, the guitarist leaned towards you, making your heart beat quicker with how close he got. Close enough for him to whisper, “Then I’d have to defend myself against that.”

Your eyes remained locked with his, jerking your chin lightly before challenging, “Go on, then.”

Hongjoong seemed pleased with your encouragement, setting his now empty bottle to the side as the gleam in his eye shone brighter.

“I was well-behaved. Kept the place clean, rotated chores, minded my own business. Yeosang almost didn’t want me to leave.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah—” He chuckled. “—gave me the biggest pout when I gave him the heads up. Made me feel like an asshole.”

Your eyes rolled with no hint of annoyance. “Sounds like Yeo. But I guess you really helped take care of the guy, huh?”

“I sure did.”

Hongjoong lightly knocked his knee into yours, but it remained pressed as he purred, “I like to take care of people close to me.”

Whatever wholesomeness that statement would have had was erased by his actions. You welcomed the touch, though. It merely boosted your confidence and will to step closer to your long-awaited goal.

You did your best not to overthink as you gently rubbed the side of your foot on his calf, lips twitching at the subtle shift in his expression.

“What about the people close to Yeosang? Would you take care of them too?”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow ticked at your question.

“Of course.”

Play coy, Y/N.

“It would be nice if I was included too…”

After you trailed off, nothing was said. Only sounds from the rest of the bar came through, various conversations mixing with background music from the speakers. But you weren’t too focused on that right now.

No, you were hyper-focused on the way Hongjoong was watching you.

The way his eyes traveled down your face and over your form let you know that digging in your closet for this outfit was worth it. Everything only became sweeter with what he said next.

“Taking care of you would be a pleasure.”

The heat underneath his words took your interaction to the next level, bringing a light feeling to the base of your gut. Thinking about what ‘taking care of you’ would entail erased the last bit of caution you had.

“Then maybe you can help me with a problem I’ve been having.”

“Shoot.”

You laid one of your hands on his jean-covered thigh, faintly feeling the muscle underneath twitch.

“Ever since I started watching you guys perform, I’ve been wondering something.”

Hongjoong jerked his chin forward, prompting you to continue. Not wanting to take a chance at someone walking up and overhearing at the last minute, you leaned in closer, almost brushing your lips against his ear to breath out, “I keep thinking about what it would feel like to fuck you. Something about you caught my eye from the jump and I haven’t been able to shake the idea. But there’s only one way I can figure it out.”

Your head pulled back enough to get a clear view of Hongjoong’s now intrigued face, shooting the sugariest of smiles at him.

“Will you help me solve my problem?”

Even though it was becoming clear that the blond shared a mutual attraction, a part of you couldn’t help but prepare for rejection. But your fear was allayed when he presented you with a low chuckle, followed by a smirk that was rife with teeth.

“Of course, Y/N. Although—” Now he came close to whisper in your ear. “—I don’t think we’re gonna find out by sitting near all these people.”

The underlying sensuality in his voice brought a pleasant shiver down your spine. Were you actually about to sneak off with Halazia’s main guitarist to help satiate the improper fantasies you’ve been having about him?

Yes. Yes you fucking were.

“Then do you mind if we have some one on one time?”

The hand that reached for your own to take it into a firm grip let you know that you hit the jackpot.

“Not at all.”

You were sure the rest of the guys eventually noticed and picked up on what you two snuck off for, but you couldn’t care less about what they thought. Your wish was finally coming true.

Hongjoong led the way, clearly more familiar with backstage than you were. The two of you passed a handful of workers, the man in front of you giving them polite greetings and acknowledgments. It was nice to see that he wasn’t one of those snobby types of rockstars.

He stopped in front of a door with a sign that said ‘Reserved for Halazia’, going for the handle before turning it and pushing. His hand let go of yours, only to motion you in first with a smile. You gave one of your own and stepped into the room, looking around with curiosity. It was a typical dressing room, nothing too chaotic.

But the best part was that it was empty, perfect for what was about to go down.

“So…”

You turned around, hearing the door shut and lock before Hongjoong approached you, lips curled akin to someone ready to indulge in the sweetest dessert of their life.

“Is this a much better spot?”

Your mouth twisted in humor, nodding as you replied with delight, “Much better.”

“Good.”

The both of you looked into each other’s eyes, bodies thrumming with energy that was ready to be unleashed at any moment. Although, no one made a move for a moment.

That is, until Hongjoong chose to take a step forward, leaving the tiniest of spaces between you two.

Having him so close directly in front of you had even more of an effect than before, his fresh scent invading your nostrils while your heart pumped faster. It got worse when a hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear, his touch making you bite your lip.

Hongjoong noticed your shift and chuckled, “Nervous?”

You shook your head.

“No, just…excited.”

His grin only widened at your admission, sliding his hand down to gently cradle your jaw.

“Same. Didn’t think I’d ever get to be up close and personal with Yeosang’s pretty friend.”

Although you were melting inside at the compliment, your eyebrow raised in amazement.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So why didn’t you make a move first?”

You hoped to trip him up, but the guitarist didn’t seem fazed, straight teeth almost blinding you.

“I wanted to see how badly you wanted me.”

His low response brought a mixture of exasperation and lust to you, your eyes rolling as you huffed, “You rockstars and your egos.”

Hongjoong laughed at your quip before leaning in to plant his lips on yours, ironically making the first move into what was expected to go down in here. Not a second passed before you kissed back, upping the pace a bit. The two of you got lost in each other until he started walking forward, forcing you to step back to avoid having your toes crushed.

He managed to distract you with his skills as you suddenly felt something hard press against your spine. One of your hands went back to feel a smooth surface behind you, realizing that he had walked you towards one of the vanity tables.

A nip to your bottom lip made you focus on the bigger picture once more, answering back with a bite of your own. The groan that rumbled against you was nothing short of satisfying.

Hongjoong pulled apart to pant softly, “Nice to see you’re not shy.”

You brought a hand to the nape of his neck, absentmindedly playing with the short, blond strands as you queried, “You think I’d be back here with you if I was shy?”

He conceded with an amused ‘no’, allowing you to pull him back in for another kiss. The longer this went on, the warmer you were beginning to get. You skipped on a jacket tonight, leaving you with a thinner, long-sleeved shirt on top, but the leather skirt below seemed to be the cause of your rising temperature.

Time for it to go.

You released Hongjoong’s neck and reached back to unzip your skirt, only to feel his hands take a hold of yours. Lips pulled away to give him a confused stare.

“Uh uh—“ He released you before grabbing onto the hem and pushing it up with a smirk. “—the skirt stays on.”

Well then. Whatever he wants, he gets.

You nodded, bringing your hands away from the garment as further approval. He pecked your lips in gratitude and went for the top of your stockings next, shimmying them down until your boots interrupted the journey. Humming at the inconvenience, he unzipped before sliding them off your feet and tossing them to the side. You didn’t even get a chance to wiggle your toes as he continued relieving you of your tights, letting them join your shoes.

The slightly cool air hit your now exposed legs, but the heat Hongjoong directed up at you next erased it.

“Sit on the table.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his command, bringing your hands behind to hoist yourself onto the vanity. The guitarist was quick to stand and slot himself between your spread legs, taking your mouth in another hungry kiss. Even though he was doing an excellent job occupying you with his tongue, you could feel his fingers run down your hips until he brushed the soft skin of your thighs. You enjoyed the sensations, lulling into a pleasant vibe until he traveled inwards and stroked a finger along the front of your panties.

You felt him hum before he released your lips, giving you one of his sharp smirks.

“I hope you haven’t been like this all night.”

A giggle left as you bucked your hips forward. “I plead the fifth.”

Hongjoong chuckled and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Poor baby. Lemme fix that for you.”

With lightning precision, his fingers dove up to grasp the elastic, tugging the damp fabric down until it was pulled off and tossed to join its friends. The air hitting that area only exacerbated just how wet you were, thanks to the man in front of you. Although, he was swift in covering you with his hand, digits beginning to tease with confidence.

“Oh…”

The soft exclamation left when you felt him travel upwards and circle your swelling clit. He applied just the right amount of pressure to make a pleasant heat begin to form in your belly. Just when you were about to close your eyes in bliss, Hongjoong slid back down to play with your folds, the slickness allowing him to glide with ease.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All this for me?”

Your reply meant to come out as words, but the way he spread you open made it turn into a positive hum. He chuckled at you, bringing his free hand up to rest a thumb on your swollen lips.

“You like how I’m playing with this little pussy of yours?”

“Yes—”

Hongjoong began stroking his thumb over your mouth, choosing to match the rhythm with the one between your legs, making your eyelids flutter.

“Is this what you thought about every time you watched me play?”

You breathed out, “I don’t know if I should say yes. Your rockstar ego might over-inflate.”

Hongjoong laughed, little offense in his tone. “I wouldn’t mind the push.”

You played as if you were mulling over a decision, trying not to crack the facade at the mild pout on his lips. Just when he was about to ask, you directed a smirk at him.

“This is tame compared to what’s been running through my head.”

Now you captured his entire attention, eyes burning with curiosity.

“Oh yeah? Indulge me.”

This time, you didn’t want to hold back, nonchalance coloring your face as you looked dead into his eyes.

“I’ve thought about how your fingers would feel inside me.”

The image of his digits flying across the fret of his guitar only emphasized your current pleasure, spurring you on.

“Wondered if they’d play me as well as you play your guitar.”

A low hum came from Hongjoong at your words, dark eyes twinkling with sensuality.

“I think I’m answering your question right now, no?”

A sudden strum to your quivering bud followed, making your hips jerk.

“You are—“ It took a second to find your breath. “—but I still have a couple more.”

“Oh?”

It was a struggle to speak past the moans building in your throat as he continued, but you powered through.

“Thought your head would look nice between my legs.”

You wouldn’t call yourself timid at all, but even this was a new level for you. To be so blunt with someone who you had only known for a short time was crazy. But the spark lighting up on Hongjoong’s face took away whatever shock you had at yourself.

“Is that so?”

Your nod brought the most salacious smirk from him. He moved his hands away from your body, disappointment at not having his touch anymore hitting you. But he was quick to bring up your spirits, placing them on your knees before spreading them further. He then dropped down to the floor, gaze still steady as he raised a brow.

“Like this?”

Your pulse spiked at the sight. It was a nice start, but it wasn’t quite there yet.

“Come closer.”

Hongjoong obliged, cheeks nearly brushing your inner thighs now.

“How about now?”

Much better.

“Perfect.”

The guitarist chuckled, blinding you with his smile.

“Good. Now you can sleep at night.”

A mix of a scoff and a giggle escaped, leaning down to give his forehead a gentle poke.

“Thank you for your services.”

“Any time, baby. Although…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes lowered, looking directly at your exposed cunt. “While I’m already down here—”

You had little chance to prepare as he darted forward and ran his tongue over the entirety of you, ripping a hitched gasp from your throat.

Shit.

Clearly the one lick wasn’t enough for Hongjoong, going back in with a few more that had your head tipping back against the mirror. Soft pants left you, morphing into stronger moans when he directed attention onto your clit. You could feel vibrations from him at times, feeling pleased to know that he was enjoying this as well.

“Fuck, Hongjoong—”

He pulled off, lips glistening as he husked, “You taste fucking amazing, baby. Gonna make sure I get my fill tonight.”

Your lower body bucked at his words, shifting forward until your ass nearly went over the edge of the table. The blond shot you a grateful look for giving him more access, hands sliding up your trembling thighs to take a firm hold of your hips before continuing his actions.

You were trying your best to keep your eyes on him the entire time, but he was too damn good.

Certain moves would make you throw your head back, whining as Hongjoong worked you up with his mouth. You got frustrated at one point when your skirt partially obscured his handsome face. A grunt left your lips before you reached down and tugged the offending fabric up even higher, giving you a clearer view of him eating your pussy.

Watching him had you transfixed, seeing his eyes closed for a good moment as he indulged in you. Though they would open up soon, focusing on you with a heat and precision that you’d only see a fraction of while he was on stage. You weren’t uncomfortable with the stare at all.

It turned you on beyond all belief.

Your fingers tangled into his short, blond strands, feeling the slight perspiration on his scalp. Whether it was leftover from the show or because of the current situation, you didn’t know. You gave the lightest of pulls, subtly asking for more.

Hongjoong raised a brow before moving his mouth away, just a few centimeters. He then went and stuck his tongue out, running the flat of it from the bottom of your slit up until he reached your clit, giving it a harsh flick.

“Oh fuck—“

A short chuckle washed over your area before he did the move again. And again. And again.

“You’re gonna kill me, swear to God.”

The musician giggled at your claim, eyes and nose scrunching with humor.

“You’ll live. But in case you don’t—“ You felt something prodding your entrance, looking down to see one of his fingers there. “—I need to see how good this pussy feels first.”

Hongjoong began sliding it in, your grip on your skirt tightening as he stretched you out a bit. He was quick to start thrusting, pausing at one point to curl and search for that sweet spot inside. When you felt him brush against it, you squeezed around his finger, bringing a triumphant smirk to his face.

“Right there, baby?”

“Right there—!”

He paired his cooing with a solid pump into the area, ruining whatever composure you had. There was no mercy as he kept on with the movements, making you squirm on his digit as a ball of pleasure started to form in your gut. Unable to take anymore of his teasing, you pulled his head closer again before pleading, “Keep eating my pussy, please.”

Hongjoong had no qualms about your begging, groaning lowly before diving back in.

The dual sensations of his mouth and finger working together pushed you higher and higher towards a precipice. Your own lips were babbling praises and noises to let him know how fucking good he was at this. He never pulled off to banter like before, laser-focused on your pleasure. All you received were his sharp brown eyes, watching you like a hawk.

Just when you felt yourself getting close, you tugged at Hongjoong’s hair. He pulled off, albeit reluctantly, shooting you a questioning stare. You gave a wobbly grin, bringing him back in until his wet lips were level with your pulsating nub.

“I come easier this way.”

Thankful for your advice, the guitarist winked before giving his undivided attention there. As you expected, your high raced towards you in no time, showing itself as you cried out and clamped down on his still thrusting finger. Your entire body trembled while he continued to roll his tongue over you, hand letting go of his hair at some point so as to not pull any strands out by accident.

Finally, the tremors stopped, making you slump against the mirror like a limp noodle. Your eyes couldn’t help but shut, feeling more tired than content thanks to the good orgasm.

A good orgasm at the hands (and mouth) of Hongjoong.

“You still alive up there?”

The teasing made your eyes open, shooting a deadpan expression down at his beaming face.

“Nope. Died and went to heaven. Murderer.”

Hongjoong cackled at your quip, standing up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll send my condolences to Yeosang.”

Now you laughed, reaching for the lapels of his star-printed jacket to tug him in for a deep kiss. Your tongue was quick in meeting up with his, tasting the lingering of your arousal. The longer your lips were locked, the faster your desire returned, wanting to take this even further. You needed to see how his cock would feel inside you, fucking you until your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Hongjoong removed his lips to catch his breath, hot puffs of air washing over your swollen ones before he husked, “Satisfied?”

You knew your answer right away.

“Would you be mad if I said no?”

The guitarist’s head shook. “I was hoping you would say that—” He took the chance to come closer, pressing his concealed cock into your bare thigh. “—didn’t want to let you out of here just yet.”

Your mouth twisted into a delighted smirk, pleased at the mutual feeling.

“Good, because I also thought about how it would feel if you fucked me.”

Now that you threw your final thought out into the open, the goalpost looked clearer than ever. Especially when Hongjoong presented you with the slyest grin you had ever seen on him. The ones he would give on stage paled in comparison to this.

“Is that right?”

When you nodded, his hand came up to hold your chin. A thumb tapped against it as he purred, “The feeling’s mutual.”

A peck landed on your lips before Hongjoong stepped away to head to the opposite side of the room where a few duffel bags laid. He began rummaging in one of them, standing once he found whatever he was looking for. That something was revealed to be a condom when he turned around. You were glad he wasn’t averse to protection; as horny as you were for him, your safety came first.

But just as he was about to make his way back, a few knocks came from the door.

Your expressions matched with irritation as you both frowned at the interruption. Hongjoong gave you an apologetic look before calling out, “Yes?”

“Hyung, it’s me!”

Because you were further from the muffled voice, you couldn’t decipher who was there until the guitarist swore quietly.

“Jongho, I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“I know, but I really need something from inside! Can you just grab it for me, please?”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he seemed to debate on telling his bandmate to either leave or give him a moment. He went with the latter as he stomped over to the door, unlocking and opening it enough to poke his head out and avoid Jongho witnessing you in your partially-undressed state.

“What do you need?”

“Hyung, I need some condoms.”

“Why didn’t you pick them up when we were in here earlier?”

You could picture the vocalist shrugging, wide eyes adding to his defensive expression.

“I didn’t think I needed them! But Lia sent me a message a few minutes ago and she lives right down the road, so…”

You heard Hongjoong sigh before telling him to wait one second. He shut the door, turning and mouthing an ‘I’m sorry’, to which you waved him off with little bother. A momentary interruption was better than losing your entire chance.

He ran back to his bag to grab a handful of the foil packets before jogging back to the door, opening it and stretching his arm out.

“Here. Now can you promise you or the others won’t bother me until I come back?”

“Of course, captain! Have fun!”

Hongjoong shook his head at his bandmate’s well wishes, but saw him off with a chuckle and a humored goodbye before shutting and locking the door once more. With a swiftness, he turned and ran back over to you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries.”

Hongjoong looked grateful for your nonchalance, setting the condom down next to you before shucking his jacket off and tossing it to the side. Your eyes couldn’t hold back from raking over the skin now exposed, toned arms and shoulders causing your mouth to water. Just as you peeped the ink scrawled on one of his inner biceps, he started undoing his pants, bringing your attention to something even more interesting as he lowered them.

He caught your stare, smirking at how little modesty you had before reaching for the foiled wrapper. His hands were steady yet swift as he opened and slid the protection onto his stiff dick. As soon as he finished, Hongjoong grabbed your hips, tugging you down just enough to rest his tip against the apex of your thigh.

“Ready for me, beautiful?”

With little apprehension, you reached between your bodies to take a hold of him, lining up with your weeping entrance before giving him a confident nod. As soon as he earned your approval, the musician shifted forward, parting your folds until he started spreading you open. Both of your breaths hitched at the sensation, feeling his ringed fingers dig further into your hips.

“You’re just swallowing me up—“

Hongjoong’s gritted growl made your walls pulsate around his cock for a moment, proving his observation correct. Once he got in as far as you were pleased with, you took a hold of his waist before husking, “Fuck me already.”

A sharp inhale was all you got as you felt him slightly pull out before entering at a quicker pace. The rhythm built up soon enough, giving you the friction you oh so desired.

You were finally getting your wish.

Hongjoong was no slouch in this department, delivering strokes that were the right balance between gratifying and not quite enough. Perfect to have you whining for more a few minutes in.

“Hongjoong, give it to me—”

“Mm? Want me to fuck you harder, baby?”

The hold you had on his shirt tightened.

“Please.”

The chuckle you received had a thrill running down your spine, only to be replaced with a sharper sting as soon as he started plunging into you harder.

“So generous, letting me fuck this pussy how I really want to—”

Between the elevated pleasure and the way he hissed out his words, you were living the dream. You tried to fire back with your own quips, but couldn’t keep up with the way the blond was doing you and staring you down with those dark eyes of his. All you could do to let him know how good you were feeling was to tug him into messy kisses and rubs of your hands along his clothed torso. It seemed to be enough for him, judging by the groans you’d hear or feel.

At one point, Hongjoong pulled away from your lips, his own bearing hints of your smudged lipstick. Your fixation on his appearance was interrupted when he boldly stated, “Wish I could’ve been more thorough about this.”

Your head tilted as you asked, “What do you mean?”

His mouth twisted as if you made a joke, pausing his hips to make sure you focused on what he was about to say.

“I mean, I would’ve liked to do this somewhere a little more private. Because it’s a shame I can’t see all of you right now.”

His admission made your pussy flutter around him, watching as he looked over your still-covered body with heavy and curious eyes.

“Wouldn’t mind having more time to see what else is running through this pretty head of yours.”

He wanted to know what else you would have done with him, huh? There was one little act that you both skipped over, for time’s sake.

“Actually…there’s one thing I forgot to mention.”

Hongjoong’s brow lifted as you took a hold of one of the hands on your body and brought it close to your swollen lips. Making sure to keep eye contact, you rested his index and middle finger on your bottom lip before purring, “I’ve thought about how nice it’d be to suck your dick.”

Before you could get a reaction, you slipped his digits into your mouth, starting to gently suck them as if you were actually carrying out your wish.

The variety of emotions that came over Hongjoong’s face only upped your confidence, bobbing your head carefully to really sell the act. Only then did he finally say something, husking, “Fuck, baby— I’m really missing out right now, huh?”

A wink was what you gave, followed by your tongue beginning to swirl around the appendages, eyes fluttering shut as you pictured a different scenario.

Hongjoong leaning against this very vanity table, pants and briefs pulled halfway down. Watching close as you sat on your knees and worked his cock over with your mouth. You could feel his hips tremble occasionally, surely holding back from the primal urge to fuck into your hot and wet cavern.

But just as you were getting deep into your fantasy, the fingers slipped out of your mouth. Your eyes flew open as you made a mild noise of surprise, only for them to widen at the hungry look on his sweat-beaded face. The same hand was quick to grab your jaw, Hongjoong leaning in so close that you could feel his harsh breath mingling with yours as he hissed, “Next time.”

He didn’t give you a second to process his foreboding words as he took your lips into a starving kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead laid on yours as his hips went up to a reckless pace, burying his cock so deep that your back arched at the sharp jolt of pleasure racing throughout your body. This gave him the opportunity to attack your exposed neck with bites and kisses, pausing at times to growl sheer filth into your ear.

Everything combined had your body giving in to Hongjoong completely, leaning back against the mirror as all sorts of sounds surrounded you.

The slight creaking of the vanity and the jostling of the bottles sitting on it.

The smacking of his damp skin against yours.

How the groans leaving him gradually became tinged with a hint of whining as time passed.

Deducing that he was getting close to his end, you took his hand and slid it between your hips to give him a hint that you needed some help. He was quick on the draw, pushing your hand up as he began circling and rubbing your swollen clit with a saliva-covered fingertip. This only made a long moan escape you, head throwing back as it didn’t take long to catch up with your partner.

“That’s it, baby— Gonna make this little pussy come all over my cock.”

Hongjoong’s thick declaration made your legs wrap tight around his waist and your hands grasp onto the damp skin of his bare shoulders, holding on as he continued transporting you towards your end. You could feel his thrusts become a bit off-centered, but they were still enough for you to enjoy, and more than enough to bring another orgasm.

You announced it through a strained cry of the guitarist’s name, digging your nails into him as you trembled between his tense body and the mirror. It only took a few strokes for Hongjoong to join, swearing through gritted teeth as he plunged into you as far as humanly possible, throbbing as he filled up the condom.

Once the euphoria stopped running through your veins, the urge to slump backwards came strong. You followed your body’s wish, letting out a sigh of fatigue and satisfaction. A soft chuckle sounded near your ear.

“Tell me about it.”

The tiniest of laughs escaped you before taking a moment to simply enjoy the peace in the room. After the two of you got your bearings, it was inevitable that you’d part ways and head home with your respective parties.

But for now, you’d enjoy the way Hongjoong silently hummed into the crook of your neck as you ran your fingers up and down his back.

Yeosang was polishing the last of the clean glasses and talking to San when you strolled up to the bar, a pep in your step.

“Hey guys!”

Your roommate looked up, scrutinizing your appearance with a knowing smirk.

“Well, look who finally returned.”

You waved him off, only to now hear San teasing, “I hope you didn’t wear him out too much.”

A light laugh came out as you grinned at the drummer.

“He’s still standing on two legs, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good, the guys and I decided that none of us should be carried out tonight.”

The two of you giggled before he stood up from his stool, stretching muscled arms into the air.

“I think we should start heading out as soon as hyung is put together, I’m sure the two of you are tired.”

Yeosang shrugged, although you could see the slight lidding of his eyes.

“Take your time, I still have to do an inventory count.”

San shook his head. “No no, you definitely need your rest, it’s been nonstop for you. I’ll go gather everyone.”

You were grateful for his insistence, knowing how stubborn Yeosang could get when it came to his job.

“Thank you, San.”

A soft smile was directed at you before the drummer went off to get all of his bandmates together. Now that the two of you were alone, you spun around and gave your friend a winning grin.

“Mission accomplished, Yeo. And it was so worth it.”

Yeosang flicked a brow up at your declaration while grabbing his tablet to take inventory.

“Please don’t give me details. I still have to work with the guy on a weekly basis.”

“I’m not, I’m not! Just letting you know that I got my wish and now you won’t have to hear your horny freak of a roommate lament on how badly she wants Hongjoong’s dick.”

He shot you an exasperated look, clearly not as enthused about the news as you figured he’d be.

“Excellent.”

Snickering, you gave it a rest, leaving him to his work so the two of you could go home ASAP. You turned to take in the venue, noting the janitor sweeping up the last bit of trash and the busboys wiping down the tables that were sticky with alcohol. A few minutes passed before you spotted Halazia, minus Jongho, emerging from backstage. The men wore varying expressions, but all seemed to have a hint of exhaustion as well.

Although, most of your attention was on one specific member.

Hongjoong looked to be the most energetic of the group, eyes alert and responses swift. You weren’t surprised, considering what the two of you went through recently. It might be a different story when he reached home, though.

After nodding at whatever Seonghwa said, his head turned, blinking as he caught you watching him. A blinding grin was quick to come on before he made a beeline your way, making your pulse quicken. But he stopped next to your sitting figure rather than stand in front of you, his gaze on Yeosang as he typed.

“Yeosang, we’re gonna head out now.”

The bartender looked up, only to refocus on his tablet after giving the other a nod. “Stay safe. Great job, as always.”

Hongjoong chuckled, scratching the back of his neck in slight bashfulness.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying that, man.”

“Well, you better. Before you guys get snatched up by some big record label and I’ll need to go through security to speak to you.”

You giggled at his quip, receiving Hongjoong’s eyes now. “He has a point. We might be demoted to fans at this rate.”

The blond’s mouth twisted into a smirk as he continued to look at you, saying, “Oh, I could never forget you guys.”

Thank goodness Yeosang wasn’t paying attention to the way you were being stared down by the man who had his hands all over you not long ago; he definitely would not have let you live it down.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. Have a good night, Hongjoong, tell the others for me.”

“Will do, Yeosang.”

Hongjoong slipped his hand out of his jacket pocket before holding it towards you.

“Y/N.”

You blinked at the formal gesture from someone who was up in your guts, but brought your own hand up to allow his to take a firm grasp.

“A real pleasure meeting you. Well, officially, I mean.”

A short laugh left as you teased, “Likewise, Hongjoong. I guess we’ll see each other at your next show?”

He kept a hold of your palm as he flashed his perfect teeth and winked.

“Absolutely.”

You almost didn’t want to let go, but you allowed the musician to pull away. But then you felt something odd. Looking at your palm, you spotted a piece of paper, folded over and over until it was a tiny square. Thinking that Hongjoong left something by accident, you prepared to call out until he brought a finger up to his lips.

The motion quieted you when he glanced sideways at Yeosang before looking at the paper and then at your face. With that, he turned and headed towards his bandmates to exit the establishment, leaving you to stare down at your hand.

Whatever he left was meant for your eyes and your eyes only.

Curiosity took over as you carefully unfolded the note. You had to bite back a gasp at what was scrawled inside.

‘So we don’t have to wait for the next show to meet up’

xxx-xxxx

Fuck!

You almost slipped and swore out loud, but managed to hold it in. Peeking at your friend to make sure he was still occupied, you stared at Hongjoong’s neat writing, processing this new info.

He actually gave you his number! Was this how groupies felt? Or were you a step above them?

Either way, this was an unexpected development. It was luck that you were able to get close enough to Hongjoong to sleep with him, but to get this as well felt like a miracle.

“Hey.”

You swiftly brought the paper down to your lap as you peered up to see Yeosang, hands now free from the tablet.

“Are you ready to go?”

With a smile that might have been a little too enthusiastic, you nodded, slipping the note into your pocket.

“Absolutely.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez hard hours #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #kim hongjoong fic #kim hongjoong fanfic #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x you #kim hongjoong x y/n #plug and play #ksmutsociety

[temptaetions]

angel eyes 🪽 b.cc (m)

a/n: the photo above is from stray kids' skz magic school shoot. i don’t own the media. i clearly got carried away writing this, because it's so long. however, i hope you guys enjoy it. obviously none of this is real...so does accuracy matter?

✩ spellbound secrets series m.list

✩ synopsis: you’ll think you’re in paradise, and one day you’ll find out he wears a disguise, don’t look too deep…

✩ genre: idiots to lovers | love epiphany au | teacher x student

✩ pairing: ??? b.cc x fem!compassion conjurer!reader

✩ word count: 21.6k | lowercase intended.

✩ rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

✩ warning(s): quite a few time skips. minor character death, mentions of a car accident, semi descriptive. y/n has a scar across her body (not self inflicted, how it was inflicted is not described), both y/n and chan have unresolved issues with love, chan's kind of a dick in the beginning. swearing, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of blood, y/n has a medical episode, once more horribly written smut [between b.cc x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, oral (f. receiving...he starts eating it thru the panties LOL), so much kissing, some (nude) grinding, missionary (because i'm an emotional bitch), light nipple play (clothed), crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, some biting, light choking (m. receiving), a bit of alluding to sex as 'extra credit' and subtly feeding the professor x student power dynamic]. (more information about y/n: she glows, kind of like a glowstick, and she can float around instead of walking.)

✩ what to listen to: angel eyes - abba | the chain - fleetwood mac | bodyache - purity ache | if it isn't love - new edition | cherish the day - sade

tuesday – november 02.

it's slow, the fall. it feels like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement. 

he's been lost before - in grocery stores, not understanding assignments. shit, he's even been lost in the woods before. he knows what it's like to be lost, physically. he knows what it's like to not know what his emotions mean, either, so that also counts in his book.

but this? this feeling that he's just wandering the world? not knowing where his purpose lies, or what he's meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose? this is a feeling of damn near disorientation, isolation, off fucking course. it's all the same anyway. everything is the same, nearly everyday.

he wakes up, brushes his teeth. greets changbin and hyunjin at the table for breakfast, and gets ready for the day. goes to class, daydreams. he comes home, has lunch with jisung sometimes, and goes to the gym with changbin at seven-thirty. every few fridays, he'll go to one of the university baseball games, cheering on seungmin and jisung while sharing nachos with his ex-fling, sooyoung, and her best friend (who so happened to be seungmin's former girlfriend.) then, he's home again, he showers, he sleeps for a few hours.

every. single. day.

he gets bored, but reminds himself he needs to find peace in the routine. it's all he knows – he doesn't know what's keeping him here, but he's aware it's something. everyone knows it's something, but have no answers for him. he's sought after so many master sorcerers across all dimensions, begging to find an end to his equation, but to no avail.

he has no idea who he is, or what purpose he serves, and he pretends he's okay with it. he soothes by saying that not all can be known.

he pretends it's fine as he goes through his days, as he goes to class, as he talks to girls. he doesn't feel much of anything when he does these things, but the women he speaks to certainly do. they grin from ear to ear, like cheshire cats, when they get a moment to speak to the uncertainty that is bang chan.

but, it's fine. he's fine, it's really not a big deal.

he's in his last year of grad school, hoping to just bury himself in his studies to stop the feeling of impending doom. normally, you open up shop right after undergrad. you offer your services, barter for goods, sometimes get paid in a goat and two chickens instead of money. so many of his friends have already done so, relishing in the satisfaction that is being a sorcerer and mastering their craft. 

what the fuck is he supposed to do? study until his fingers fall off and his brain becomes putty?

"i dunno, man. you could become a genius." jisung spoke around a mouthful of blueberries, and chan grimaced. "what? i'm bulking up!" shaking his head, chan closed his notebook. shoving it into his bookbag, he sighs. "i don't think i want to know everything there is to know, ji."

"doesn't knowing everything you need to know, start with knowing yourself?" minho teases from across the table, winking at jisung over his coffee cup. the younger boy nearly chokes, getting a whack across the back to aid in not seeing god. "don't flirt with him, he'll have an aneurysm." "hey!" jisung sputters, but the three of them know it's true. how jisung was the campus' playboy, no one would ever know. chan didn't even know if jisung could read when they first met. "you know it's true, ji. i gotta head out, i have a night class this semester with professor y/l/n, i finally got my schedule fixed. changbin is going to hate me because i'm going to miss the gym every tuesday and thursday." chan groans as he swings his bag over his shoulder, and the two men watch as he slides his headphones on, walking out of the library.

he's insufferable lately, and they don't know why. they assume he needs to kiss someone, preferably sooner rather than later.

"you think the poor guy knows what he's in for?" minho mumbles, closing his textbook. jisung shakes his head, popping another blueberry in his mouth. "i hear she's ruthless. i mean, if i was an anomalistic prodigy with gorgeous thighs like hers, i would be, too." "shut up, you can't even kill spiders."

your classroom is surprisingly cozy as he strolls in. the lights are dimmed, and there are blankets draped across many chairs. he looks around, spotting a green couch in the back. raising his eyebrows, he makes a beeline for it, hearing other people start to trickle in.

setting up his laptop on the table before him, he lets his eyes wander.

the walls are plastered with entomology posters, and he scrunches his nose as he sees a taxidermied praying mantis on your desk. he remembers what you said in your speech at your commencement ceremony – "the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide. a guide for those who needed direction, and my god, have i needed it. life truly does go on and i am further amazed by how deeply it fills me with joy to stand here before you. the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide, and i am so honored to be the mantis that prays for you."

you were the university's little treat, their trophy to parade. their only compassion conjurer and possessor of the will to practice benevolent magic. you cared of nothing more but to help those around you, you never said no. you never denied yourself to be utilized to find peace. he admired you, but not really. it was twisted, but he thinks you should…help yourself. he believes you should be selfish, at least once in a while.

he didn't really know you, but he hadn't expected to, either. you seemed like you were constantly on the go. you floated about, sort of like a ghost. your hands often clasped behind your back, a warm golden glow surrounding you. he'd heard from some people that they've seen it change color, but he never has.

but again, he didn't know you.

"chan!"

the voice whips him out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see yugyeom. he smiles, reaching his hand out for a dap from his oldest friend. "hey! how have you been? still on the baseball team?" "nah, i quit after i started dating doyeon. apparently, she has quite the track record with the team." he whistles, pulling out his laptop as he slides on the couch. "you quit the team for a girl?" chan questions, and yugyeom gives him a shy smile.

"she's not just any girl, chan. i think…she could be the one." he shrugs, a blush coating his cheeks as chan bumps his shoulder. "aww, that's so gross."

"shut up. what happened with you and sooyoung? did you guys break it off?" yugyeom takes a sip of his water, and chan nods as he sees more people walk in and take their seats. "yeah, we stopped fucking around. i wasn't as emotionally invested as she was, and i felt awful for it but we ended on good terms. i'm just not ready for a relationship and i should have made that clear. that was months ago, though, and we're fine." he shrugs, and feels an odd shiver down his spine. he shakes it off, continuing the casual conversation with yugyeom.

the door opens, and they both stop talking to look up. you're floating in gracefully, dark hair framing your face, a few scattered gold strands sprouting at the crown of your head. a bit like a halo, really. long, wine red nails reach for the light switch, dimming the lights even lower.

"good evening, everyone. eyes up front, please." your voice is softer than at your ceremony, but just as confident. you're looking around, your glow dimming lightly as your eyes stop in his direction. chan's eyes flicker to yugyeom, who is smiling at his phone, thumbs typing rapid fire. shaking his head, he looks up at you, your gaze on yugyeom. chan bumps his foot, and his head shoots up. your eyes are slightly amused, "you're paying for this class. i suggest you pay attention." "sorry." he slides his phone in his jacket, and chan bites back a laugh as he clicks his pen. smiling, you redirect your attention. "welcome to identity theory! i'm professor y/l/n, but you guys can call me y/n. you might already know me, as i'm the university's only compassion conjurer, and that is exactly why i'm teaching this class." you hold up the syllabus, and begin walking around to pass them out.

"this is an extension course to the one you took in undergrad, self-discovery 101. here, we are going to further delve into ourselves, and figure out who we are outside of our powers, or what purpose they serve. i like to focus on eudaimonic theory, but if you guys have any others you want to talk about, i'm open for discussion. i also want to apologize for starting the class so late in the year. i promise the workload isn't much, i was just having a hard time deciding if i wanted to teach this class. i wouldn't be doing much soul searching with you guys, i'm already the trophy wife of the administration."

he likes your voice. it's smooth, unwavering even as you apologize and joke, even as you let your feet touch the ground. he feels his chest grow hot as you graze everyone's table with your fingers, a soft chatter beginning amongst the students. he's not nervous, but you're very commanding. he likes the way you grab attention, despite it now seemingly about to be directed to someone in the room.

"your eyes are very pretty." you stop in front of him, and the class grows quiet. you look down at him, the soft light around you a little brighter. he feels his cheeks flush, as he nods in confusion. "do they glow brighter the more i make you nervous?" you tease, and he looks away.

"cute." you slide his syllabus in front of him, and he takes it with a soft thank you.

his eyes were the only thing that gave him that something that people always mentioned. they swirled, every now and again, the brown glowing slightly violet at their own will. nobody knew what it was, but it seemed to take your interest. you move forward with the lecture, not even attempting to hide the subtle boredom in your voice as you go over the syllabus.

"i will see you all on thursday! have a safe night!" you cheer, and the students seem to bask in your happiness as you let them out of the room. you float about, and catch chan at the tail end of the gaggle of students. "you, pretty eyes."

his headphones are in the way, and you place your hand on his arm. his skin is warm to the touch, and he jumps at the contact before turning around, sliding them off. "oh, i'm sorry. did you need me?" "i just wanted to say, i hope my teasing didn't make you uncomfortable. sometimes it just slips out." you smile, and you notice one..two dimples make their presence on his cheeks. "don't worry, it's alright. is that all?" "no, actually." you hold up his file, and he seems to know exactly what's coming. "i don't know my abilities, if that's what you're going to ask. and i won't answer any questions about my parents, that's also in there."

his eyes hold something heavy, and you notice your glow dim as he speaks. if he does, he doesn't mention it. "alright, then i guess that's it. i'm sorry if i disturbed some emotional blockage." your brows furrow lightly, and he raises his own.

"whatever." he mumbles, and slides his headphones back on. he walks away, and you feel your lips tug into a frown. you wonder what his problem is as you walk back into your classroom, sliding the file into your desk drawer.

"you try and make a classroom a home." 

thursday – november 12.

from: [email protected]

hello, chan. this is professor y/l/n. i noticed you didn't show up to class last thursday, tuesday, or tonight.

i took it upon myself to look into your file again, with permission from the administration. i want to apologize for the sudden hot seat on tuesday after class, i was unaware of your situation and just wanted some insight. i can see how this made you uncomfortable, and i am sorry for causing said discomfort. i want you to be able to enjoy my class, and hopefully we can traverse that journey together.

that being said, i have come up with a new assignment for you, for the time being. since you don't really know what your specialties are, i can't grade based on performance or any papers delving into how they affect your life, personality, etc.

below is the rubric designed for this assignment. i spoke to the administration, and they're on board with this approach. if anything is too much, please don't hesitate to send me an email, or a text. my number is also below. have a good weekend!

signed,

y/n y/l/n

identity theory

spellbound institute of magic

psychology department

555-8212

he's been staring at this email for the last half hour. he even let hyunjin read over it, asking if he was seeing shit.

he'd skipped your class on thursday, and today. he didn't want to see you, so he avoided the psych hall altogether. he didn't really know how to feel as he switched tabs to the rubric you'd sent, essentially just saying you wanted an essay on how he's been coping with not being sure of his path in life.

how does he feel about it? does it bother him, and if he could pick, which abilities would he pick? his brain says the ability to never see you again, but his heart pangs as he rereads the postscript at the bottom of your email.

p.s. i am once again very sorry. i hope to see you in class on thursday, channie. - y/n

channie. ugh, his heart ached. he'd been so rude.

"you're thinking too hard." changbin sings from the living room, and chan sighs. "how would you know? you can't read minds." he rolls his eyes, shutting his laptop. changbin walks into the dining room, leaning over the back of a chair. "i know that look. the furrowed brows, the pout. you're thinking way too hard about this, and it was an honest mistake on your professor's part. you need to apologize, you grumpy bitch." "yeah, i don't really think it's a huge deal, either." hyunjin chimes in from the kitchen, and chan frowns. "you guys think i'm being overdramatic?" "i think your emotional repression is getting to you, you've been so insufferable lately. when's the last time you got laid?" hyunjin teases as he slides into a chair, and changbin wiggles his brows in agreement. "ugh, don't even." chan slumps his head against the wall. maybe seven months? he has a lot of pent up frustration. maybe not enough to write about his feelings and how annoyed it made him that you were digging into his life this early into him meeting you. what did you need to know, anyway? "isn't your professor that compassion conjurer paradigm? i heard the speech she gave at the convention last year, and i saw the photos. she's gorgeous, that glow around her all the time?" changbin whistles smoothly, and chan's stomach does a flip. he also saw the photos, but couldn't bring himself to think anything of them. he barely remembers watching your speech, too, but he certainly remembers the way your hips swayed as you walked off the stage.

he grimaces, feeling a bit gross at ogling you.

"she's fine." he shrugs, and changbin gives hyunjin a knowing look. "so, she's hot and you're into her. that's why she has you so worked up."

"i beg your finest fucking pardon, seo?" chan blinks, and hyunjin smirks. "then beg, channie. i'm sure professor y/l/n would like it if you did, she seems like the type. get on some dating apps, man. you need stress relief." chan scoffs, shoving his laptop into his backpack. "i'll be in my room, if you decide to stop talking about romancing my professor."

hyunjin and changbin snicker as chan storms off, his door slamming behind him as he flops onto his bed. sure, you were…okay. okay, you're hot. you're so fucking hot.

but, he doesn't like you. he doesn't like that you put him on the spot, and he doesn't like that you intended to ask so many personal questions right off the bat. he also doesn't like that his roommates are probably right – he probably is angry because he needs to get laid.

he groans into his pillow, fishing his phone out of his pocket. he unlocks it, opening the stupid app. "spellbound soulmates, how dumb." he mutters, unpausing his profile. he goes through it, updating photos and prompts. once he's satisfied, he goes to his deck.

left. left. left. left. right. right. left. left.

y/n, 26

compassion conjurer, benevolence magic

biography: sexy as fuck by day, sexy psych prof by night. everything you've heard is true.

interests: if your ass is phat, swipe right 🥵

his eyes widen, your smiling face staring back at him. scrolling through your profile, he sees mostly modest photos – you holding a tray of shots being the most scandalous. not a sliver of skin showing above your waist, but plenty of short skirts showing off your full thighs. you're smiling in every photo, but he can't think of anything except your lips parted, your thighs around his head. moaning his name.

alright, chris. he thinks. chill the fuck out.

he contemplates it for a bit, scrolling up and down your profile when he just shakes his head, closing the app and tossing his phone to the side. he flips onto his back, letting the pillow close around his ears.

he hates to admit it, because he doesn't know you. he doesn't dislike you, per say. but he's not very fond of your subtle insistence.

it's not necessarily your fault, but he really doesn't like talking about his family, especially his parents. only his friends know, and even then, it took all of four years to even bring it up. the fact that they're humans is a huge deal, and he can't risk their safety like that.

not to mention, admissions begged him to keep it a secret. they were toeing the line, chan being the third person in the university's history to have human parents. they knew about the world of magic, but didn't really have the abilities to take care of chan the way it was necessary.

so they didn't. they sent him to boarding school from a young age, and made it a point to frequently visit him. he sees them at least four times a year, but it's never enough time. he feels like he's missing a place to call home. 

he feels so alone.

it's not your fault. and he knows he needs to apologize. he just has too much pride right now.

he hears a knock, and changbin opens the door. "hey, what are you doing? i'm going to the gym, want to come with?" chan sighs, before forcing himself out of bed.

tuesday – november 17.

he's sitting on your couch today.

legs spread, hair tucked under a cap. black, like the rest of his clothes. he looks relaxed, his fingers dancing across his laptop as yugyeom shows him something on his phone. he just nods, and you can't make out what his lips say. 

you'd been feeling terrible about the events of last week, and hadn't gotten so much as an email from him. not about the assignment, not about how he clearly hates you, or even addressing your apology. you didn't understand him, but you don't know him, either.

the past three classes, you'd gotten to know your students. minnie, soyeon and shuhua were your favorite (and only) group, giggling in the corner over their laptops. they were all herbomancers, and you could tell simply based on how giggly they were. they chatted, and last thursday, shuhua was so high she just sat against her chair and stared into the abyss. you found it a little funny, when soyeon and minnie would have to drag her out of your class.

mingyu was a constant flirt, and you attributed it to his matchmaking expertise. he was one of the few cupidancers on campus, and you'd seen him about before. he had the ability to entrance people, to get them high off his attention, and you often saw girls with hearts in their eyes after speaking to him. it was quite the sight, to see someone emotionally orgasm. the fact that you were his professor didn't stop him from smiling at you, making suggestive comments, overall trying to weasel into your heart. you simply played his game, making him flustered.

yugyeom was too enthralled with his phone, and his girlfriend, to complete the assignments. the fact that minnie had slid eighty dollars his way told you his spirit weaving ways were some for the books – and so did minnie – as she rambled about a party at beta tau that past weekend. "you should come sometime, y/n. you'd get so wasted but it'd be so worth it."

you liked that they felt so at ease with you, speaking to you like you were nothing special. you liked being their age, being able to relate to the crazy parties and not worry about how you'd get home the morning after. you enjoyed the intimacy of the small class, but not the coldness surrounding who you would deem your most intriguing student.

he just sits there and he looks so nice. the slope of his neck, the way his fingers bounce on the keys of his laptop. the sheen of his lips from the cherry lip balm he applies three or four times over the two hours of your class. the way your hue almost changes from gold to pink from staring at him, and you know you catch some of their eyes as it tries.

"why do you glow, y/n?" you can hear minnie's hazy voice from the back of the room, and you feel yourself a bit dimmer than usual as you fight down the feelings of lust. "i actually don't know. the master sorcerers never told me, but i know it can be several different colors. care to ask me what they mean?" you wiggle your brows, and minnie giggles.

"pink means you're turned on, huh?" mingyu calls from his seat between shuhua and soyeon, earning a smack from both of them. you chuckle as he pouts, "what? i hooked up with a compassion conjurer last year in the second dimension, forgive me for assuming." "i thought you were bitchless, gyu? what a nice surprise, loverboy." shuhua teases, and mingyu just rolls his eyes. "well, he's not wrong."

their heads whip back to you, and you're purposely glowing gold. you're glad they don't make it weird, their eyes full of glee. "i know those sex flashbacks gotta be good, y/n." minnie giggles, and sighs dreamily. "i once got one in undergrad during the ochem final. i ran out of time and failed."

you laugh, floating closer to their table. "the colors mean a lot of things. i can also change them at will, if one isn't overpowering the other. the hues and brightness also amplify how i feel, which makes it really hard to hide any of my thoughts. for example," you pause, closing your eyes. you feel the warmth of blue overtake you, and hear a soft ooh. 

opening your eyes, you give a quick spin. "blue means i'm sad, disappointed, or at ease. i rarely get this one, it usually happens when i'm with my closest friends and can act on impulse."

the quartet looks amazed as you continue to change colors, explaining them slowly.

green, for envy, and disgust. you also rarely turn this color, and it is amongst the most dim that you've ever been. pink, for lust. you say it's your favorite color, but not your favorite feeling. orange for anger, and you recall that you only turned this color when in your mother's presence, and that you hated this one. silver, for remembrance and emptiness, and they don't require an explanation as the light grows brighter, your face deepening in sadness before you shake your head.

you exhale, before letting the cold of indigo overtake you. they gasp, and you feel shivers rack your body before you can finally speak.

"this is the only one i don't understand. i can make it seem darker, too." you say calmly, eyeing the dimness of it. it glowed almost like a blacklight, and at your will, it turned a deep violet, lining your extremities in black pixels. "have you ever felt it before?" soyeon pops a piece of gum in her mouth, offering a piece to you. taking one gently, you shrug as you unwrap it.

"nope. this one feels cold, though. the others feel warmer, like a blanket. this is like, sub-zero temperatures." you slide the piece into your mouth, feeling your golden glow return as you speak. "that's so cool, though. thank you for sharing." shuhua is gazing at you, fondness riddled in her eyes. you feel your cheeks heat, as you smile.

"my pleasure. class is over in twenty minutes, so wrap up whatever it is you're doing and i might let you guys dip out early." you nod at them, floating in the direction of yugyeom and chan. looking up from your gum wrapper, you see chan looking at you intently, his eyes slightly swirling with that same violet glow from tuesday.

"hey, pretty eyes. so kind of you to grace us with your presence today." your teasing makes him grimace, a hint of annoyance flashing through his eyes. "paying for the class, might as well pay attention." he mutters, echoing the first words you said to yugyeom.

your brows furrow at his attitude, and you watch yugyeom slip away, beckoned by minnie with a piece of pink paper. chan glances at you, closing his laptop and shoving it in his bag with indignance. "why are you acting like this? i already apologized." you feel your glow flash orange, before feeling the soft tinge of blue creeping up your back. his eyes are still violet, but they've softened. "i'm just trying to help you, chan."

"i don't think you can help, when you're part of the problem." he mumbles, his gaze never moving from your eyes. you sense blue creeping up your neck, and succumb to it, letting it blaze. "how disappointing, for a teacher to try and aid you in finding your path of life." your annoyance is visible as you spin, directing your attention to the gaggle of students watching your interaction. soyeon's eyes are wide as you dismiss them, asking them to please let the door close instead of leaving it propped open.

the words aren't even out of your mouth when you hear the door slam, yugyeom pitiful eyes confirming your thoughts. they begin to stand up, heading for the door when yugyeom splits from them, circling back to you.

"don't worry about chan. he's being a dick, it's not your fault." he places a hand on your shoulder, and you give him a sad smile. "i know, yug. i know."

a soft squeeze to your shoulder and he's gone, you're alone in your room. you sigh deeply, letting the most overwhelming hue of all take over.

the same dark red you felt all those years ago, letting it overwhelm you entirely. you sink into your desk chair, letting the soft burn of grief sink into your skin. you can close your eyes and still see it, the wine color in front of you. the one that matches your nails, and on occasion, your lipstick. the one that makes you ache the most, and yearn for those who are no longer here.

you miss him.

just like you miss chan's wide eyes, not having heard the creak of the wooden door in your turmoil. he slips away.

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

later that night, you're sitting in your bathtub, letting the hot water relax your muscles. you hear your phone ping, and you reach for it.

from: [email protected]

hello, professor y/l/n. i have read your email a few times since it was sent.

i accept your apology. i also accept this assignment, and will submit it as my final project grade, as per the rubric allows.

that being said, i will not be in class on thursday due to a prior commitment. feel free to email me back with any questions you may have, only those regarding the assignment will be answered.

signed,

bang christopher chan

spellbound institute of magic

general magic

you glare at the email, and let orange flicker like the light of your limoncello candle. you made no effort to question it, simply letting it slide. you send back an automated reply, sounds good! have a good weekend.

thursday – november 19.

chan hated meeting his parents in secret.

like it were a crime, to want to see them. he hated acting like it didn’t bother him that his siblings were growing up and he didn’t know them, he didn’t know what they liked, or what they did for fun. he felt so left out of everything, but still framed the photos they sent him. he still tucked their letters in a box for safe keeping, he still yearned to be loved by them.

not that they didn’t love him, but obviously it’s hard to do so from a distance. so they sit in the middle of the forest that surrounds the university, exactly 50 miles from all civilization. they sit there, for hours, and catch up.

“any luck yet?” his father peers at chan over a steaming plate of food, and he shakes his head. “no answers yet. if i don’t find out before the end of the semester, the master sorcerers said they’d figure something out.”

his mother sighs, her spoon stirring the canteen that held her warm coffee. "it'll be alright soon, channie. have you focused on other things? maybe find a nice girl to settle down with?" his father watches as chan visibly tenses, before pulling his wife close. "jagi, maybe that's for another time." she grimaces.

"i disagree. if he's having issues with other parts of his life, he needs to put it on the back burner for a second and figure out other parts. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? the goal of life is to not let one bad thing, or one disappointing moment deter you from finding the answer to your qualms." she rolls her eyes, earning a smile from her husband.

"okay, she has a point." his father relents, and chan just shakes his head. "i'm not ready for a relationship.' "what about that girl, sooyoung?" his mother won't back down and he knows that. "moving on from my love life, i'm content. i'm fine with things, i have my friends, i have my studies. i'll get an answer eventually." he shrugs, trying not to let it show how much it gets to him.

"chan." she slides her arm across the picnic table, grasping his hand gently. "you're not happy. you can't possibly be, with all the turmoil you feel. you're like an angsty teenager who has never stepped outside his room." "yeah, well. life goes on." he mutters, and she feels her heart sink as he pulls his hand away, checking the time on his watch. "i think i'd better start heading back. i have an early day tomorrow." he's lying. they know it, but they begrudgingly allow him to bid them goodbye. they watch him 

walk to his car, and flash his hi-beams as a final farewell before pulling off.

thursday - november 26.

it's been about a month since chan started taking your class. 

and it's been about a month since he's been able to say a single word to you without the same tone of indignance on the tip of his tongue. seeing him look indifferent in the back of your classroom made it all the better, though, because at least now he was in class. he didn't speak to you unless you spoke to him first, but he was on time and attentive.

you liked something about him, but you didn't really know what. it's quite possible you just have a little lustful wishing for him, but it felt…weird. it felt strange, you could practically feel your skin on fire every time you glanced at him, catching his eyes every once in a while. he never held the gaze for longer than a few seconds. 

as for his violet eyes, you hadn't seen them since. you saw him smile with yugyeom. you've heard him laugh, the sound so sweet to your ears. you hated that your glow was so evident when his giggle resounded in the classroom.

you thought nobody noticed, the students didn't treat you any differently than their own friends. soyeon, minnie and shuhua made it a point to start inviting you out to drinks, and mingyu flirted with you relentlessly. you simply took the interactions in stride, and smiled politely as you kept the lectures going.

but tonight? chan wasn't in class (again) so you didn't have anyone to fawn over. mingyu was front and center, and the girls gathered around him as they conspired amongst themselves. they weren't very secretive, and you could hear them giggling as you floated over.

"what's the joke? i want to laugh, too." you teased with a soft smile, and mingyu flashed you his pearly whites before turning his phone at you.

message from: doyeon

[9:03pm] hey mingyu! tell yug i'm waiting for him at the party, and bring the girls with you!

[9:04pm] see if you can convince your professor to come, too 👀 i've seen her and she's hot! maybe she can take eunwoo off our hands, i'm sick of him moping over jisoo

you chuckle, your glow brightening a bit. "you guys want me to go to a party, at a frat house, on a school night?" shuhua nods her head, a giggle falling from her lips. "c'mon, y/n! live a little, there's going to be so many cute boys there." 

"yeah, y/n! plus, a little bird told me a certain purple eyed boy will be there." minnie wiggles her brows at you, and you smirk. "yeah? chan skipped my class for a party?" you glance at his empty spot on the couch, your glow dimming.

"c'mon, y/n. we all know you have the hots for him." mingyu says matter-of-factly, and you laugh. "i do not! he doesn't even speak in class, i don't know anything about him." you shrug, and mingyu smirks. "i've seen the way you look at him!" minnie chimes in, and you shake your head. "so what if you don't? he's hot and you're into that. he has nice muscles, i've seen him at the gym." mingyu sounds like he's trying to convince you, and you give him a smile before patting his shoulder. his cheeks tinge as you whisper, "are they as nice as yours?" soyeon teases mingyu as you float away, and their words stay with you as the class continues for another forty minutes. you type away at your desk as you bid them goodbye, but don't miss minnie sneaking away from her group to hand you a piece of pink paper.

"the address, in case you do want to see chan tonight." she slides it across the desk, a shy smile playing on her lips as she walks away. you glance at it, grimacing at the beta tau seal.

you sigh, pulling your phone to map the walk there from your apartment, receiving a text from your friend, jihyo.

message from: jihyo <3

[9:55pm] hey, you! come with me to a party, i want to scout for booty tonight 👀 i heard beta tau is having one

message to: jihyo <3

[9:57pm] funnily enough, i was about to text you, i got an invite. captain booty reporting for duty 🫡 wear something hot!

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

the party was already in full swing when you and jihyo arrived, pinkies linked. it was apparently a student's birthday party, a short stop on the baseball team. you didn't keep up with the university's sports, but managed to snag a piece of birthday cake in a cup (meaning you dumped the rest of the pink whitney into your cup, and a splash of lemonade) as you let jihyo roam.

"y/n, you made it! you look so hot." you hear minnie from behind you, and you swirl to see her holding onto mingyu. "hey, guys! sick party, my friend jihyo also wanted to come." you shrug, taking a sip from your cup, and minnie gives you a knowing smile.

"hey, don't worry about it. lover boy hasn't kissed anyone since he's been here." minnie moves her head in the direction behind you, and you twist to see chan holding a red solo cup and talking to another student, short with wire rimmed glasses, and a waist you could only dream of. you turn back to minnie, who just winks at you before pulling mingyu away with her.

your body twists to look at chan, trailing your eyes down his figure. he's got on a white muscle tee, and mingyu had not been lying about his body at all. his chest donned what seems to be a rosary, nestled between his pecs that bounced lightly as he laughed. a sliver of his lower stomach was visible, mostly covered by a jacket he likely took off, but the red on the lapels looked good against his skin. silver hoops looped through his lobes and if you didn't sink your teeth into him soon, you were going to combust.

you don't have a crush on chan. not in the slightest. but, you're not blind.

you decided to worm your way to the bathroom, but you didn't realize his friend had spotted you staring. nor that chan's eyes were on you now, wondering what you were doing at a party on a school night, in that short black skirt and soft, flimsy blouse – with no bra. his eyes roll, asking himself why you manage to torture him this way. your coat is long, and covers most of your thighs as you walk away. he winces at the twitch of his cock against his pants.

"professor! what are you doing here!" you hear yugyeom shout from across the room, eliciting a woo from all the people at the party. you smile, and hold up your cup. "hey, yug!"

he waves you over, and you oblige, downing the rest of your drink. "here, try this! i made it." he holds up a long, brown bottle – and you smirk, letting him pour it into your mouth. a bunch of students are watching you down this burning liquor without a second thought, a low whistle emitting from one in particular.

tall, handsome. nicely chiseled face, hair slicked back. barely dressed. slutty.

not chan.

"who invited the trophy wife of the administration? that was hot as fuck." he leans on soyeon, who huffs and shoves him off. "shut up, san."

minnie screams before you can answer. "i invited her! she's cool as fuck, drinks up and tits out for professor y/l/n! wooo!" the crowd that had formed around you took their drinks, a few girls flashing their breasts at you. you let a laugh rip through you when you spot jihyo smiling at you in the crowd before knocking back the rest of her drink. you point to the hallway, signaling you're going to continue your way to a bathroom, before you suffocate on the smell of buchanan's and cheap beer.

the house gets quieter the deeper you go, aside from soft moans coming from a linen closet, obscene wet noises making you shiver as you turn left, finding a clean bathroom. you leave the door slightly ajar as you splash cool water on your cheeks. you let it drip through your lashes before you grab for the toilet roll, only to see someone slip into the bathroom in the mirror. 

"hey." chan's voice is low as you pat the toilet paper on your face, and you glance at him. "hey. skipped my class for a party, huh?" "what are you doing here?" he doesn't sound upset, moreso amused. his eyes shamelessly rake up your legs, and you give a snort in reply. "minnie invited me, and my friend jihyo wanted to scope out some ass." 

"yeah?" his eyes flicker to yours in the mirror, the violet swirl evident, and you feel your thighs clench in his gaze. your glow starts to change hues, and you roll your eyes as you glow pink instead of your normal yellow. "yeah. why, channie? are you here looking for babes?" you turn, letting the liquor talk as you lean against the sink.

"would it bother you if i was?" he tilts his head, sort of like a lost puppy. you smirk, shaking your head. "why would it bother me if my student wants to get some?" "do you always play this little game with your students, professor?" he takes a step closer, and you curse yourself for glowing a little brighter, but shrug as nonchalantly as you can. "beats being uptight like professor callaghan."

"god, you're so right." he chuckles, before his hands cage you in between his body and the sink. "i bet this glow thing gets really annoying, huh?" "you have no idea." you look up into his eyes, subconsciously tucking your bottom lip under your teeth. you wonder why he’s not questioning the color change, maybe he just knows, maybe he was listening last week. you wonder how many girls he’s gotten with, and how many he’s romanced with those angel eyes of his. "you look good." he says gently, almost as if he's giving you an out. almost as if, he's nervous.

"i taste good, too." you mumble, ghosting your lips over his. you can feel your skin start to singe, but you let him kiss you anyway. you let him lift you onto the sink, parting your legs to stand between them. you let him run his hands up your plush thighs, leaning into the kiss as deep as you can without completely absorbing him.

“can’t you get in trouble for this?” chan doesn’t really care, to be honest. you can tell he doesn’t as he drags his lips down your neck, his fingers tugging your skirt up gently. “hmm, no. not me, anyway. trophy wife of the administration privileges.” 

he laughs against your skin, and you give him a cheeky smile as he kisses your lips again, his thumbs gently working circles into your hips. “i don’t want to do this here. let’s find a room, yeah?” "mmm, i don't think so. students who don't participate in class don't get extra credit." you pout, patting his chest when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

message from: jihyo <3

[11:47pm] saw you dip with cutie, so i cozied up to that mingyu guy

[11:48pm] going back to his, u can get home safe?

[11:49pm] i'll turn around if u can't. bros before hoes 💪🏻

message to: jihyo <3

[11:51pm] go ahead <3 txt me deets l8r he's a massive flirt lol

you slide it back into your pocket, and chan's hands leave your skin. he quietly moves your skirt back into place, and his eyes flicker to meet yours. he doesn't look upset at your rejection, moreso a bit grateful. "you're cute. you ask too many questions, and i'm still upset with you, but you're incredibly cute."

it's just the liquor talking. he won't remember any of this, or change his behavior by tuesday. he seems to hold grudges, but you know it's really just emotional blockage. nothing you can't help with, but everything he won't let you help with.

"maybe come to class and i might let you cum in me. you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you mumble against his lips, a shiver going through his spine. "let me walk you home." he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. you feel your stomach flip, the gesture so cute you just might let him sleep with you. you capture his lips again, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers softly wrapped at the base of his neck. his hand catches your wrist, sliding it higher.

you give it a soft squeeze as you slither your tongue into his mouth, drawing a soft groan from him. he pulls back, your lips chasing after him as he raises an eyebrow. "who's needy now, huh?" "shut up, let's go." you place a peck to his cheek, and you force your glow back to gold, albeit dimmer than normal. he has his hand on the small of your back as you exit the bathroom. he slides it around your waist, his fingers softly digging into your hip before he stops dead in his tracks. "what?"

you're whispering as you follow his eyes, seeing a blond guy in a baseball jersey staring back at him as he sneaks out of the closet you passed. a girl is gripping his hand, floating behind him. the guy turns on his heels, quickly weaving his way through the people crowding the hall, the girl giving a hazy smile as he drags her through.

"in a closet? really?" he shakes his head, and you feel his hand squeeze your waist. "sorry." "no worries. could've been us if you showed up to class." you tease as he guides you through the crowd, and you spot minnie watching you sneak your way through the people. she wiggles her eyebrows, and you just shake your head as chan opens the front door, letting you out first as he grabs his jacket from his friend.

"shit, it's colder than a witch's tits out here." you chatter, and chan quickly joins you on the porch, sliding the jacket over his arms. "it really is. which way do you live?" the walk is quiet, besides the leaves crunching under your shoes. he's close enough that his cologne meets your nose, but not close enough to where you can touch him and not be overdoing it. the taste of his lips was not enough to satiate you.

"why are you so mean to me?" you ask, not daring to look at him. he hums in response, before grabbing your shoulders, swinging his arm over you. you instinctively wrap your own around his waist, your fingers brushing the same sliver of skin you'd eyed earlier that night. you're burning up against him, and he welcomes the heat as your hips bump.

"i'm normally not this uptight." he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "i don't like answering questions about my personal life, much less my abilities. or lack thereof, rather. it was too soon when you asked, i'm still trying to figure myself out. i'm very lost in that area of my life, and if i don't find out soon, i'm not sure how i'll make a living. please don't think i'm only this way with you, i'm just feeling stuck. it's like i'm running out of time." you take in his words, nodding silently. you know your magic is taking over him as he speaks, because you feel your glow dimming more and more as you keep walking. "i don't know what that feels like, chan. i'm sorry, genuinely. i truly do want you to understand that i am here to help as much as i can, not just as a professor but as…a friend, i guess." "mmh, i don't think you can help." he squeezes your arm gently as you make a left turn. "i'm too far gone, i believe. i thought about what you said, the emotional blockage thing. and i know that you're using your fingers to seep your funky little magic into me so i talk about myself and get things moving for your peace of mind." his fingers pat yours lingering on his hip, and you sheepishly go to move them.

he holds them in place, as you guide him to the gate of your complex. "i don't mind talking to you, or answering your questions. i really, really admire you as a person and sorceress. the selflessness, you're one of the kindest people i've ever had the pleasure of meeting. you just have to give me some time to warm up to you."

he stops in front of the gate, letting you punch in the code before sliding his arm off your shoulders. "i want to apologize for my behavior. i know i've been increasingly bitchy and standoffish, i'm just stressed. i'm sorry, and i'm sorry for taking it out on you. i know you're just trying to help."

"won't you come in? it's rather late and i'd hate to have you walk back alone." your eyes are slightly pleading, and he raises a brow. "are you sure?" 

you shrug, holding the gate open. he walks past you, not comfortable enough to slide his arm over you once more. he feels the warmth of you as you float past, and he follows quietly. unlocking the door, his eyes peer into your apartment, and it's just like your classroom. 

the lights are dimmed, and your couch is the same velvety green. it smells like bambinella pear and bergamot, and your walls are littered with photos and articles. many of them penned by you, he notices, as he skims them. "feel at home?" you chuckle, and he hears the rustling of your coat as you slip it off.

"mhm, it smells nice in here." he nods as he continues observing articles, before bumping into your side table. he looks down and sees a newspaper from seven years ago, a smiling face staring back at him.

spellbound prodigy involved in an automobile accident puts the world of wizardry at risk.

he skims the paper, seeing your name repeated over and over again but yet, no mention of the person in the photo. no age, no name.

"oh, you found that?" you're behind him, and you take hold of the paper, letting it droop over your hands. "who is that?" you sigh, your fingernail tracing the man's face. "minhwi. he was my best friend from primary school until the summer of 2017. that's when the accident happened." setting the paper back down, you pat the picture before floating to the kitchen, your golden glow gone as it begins to turn dark red.

"it's grief, the hue." you wave your hand at yourself as chan leans against the island, his eyes softening as you pour water in a glass, sliding it to him. the color dims as you turn to him, sitting on the bar stool. "i know, you're wondering how i'm involved in the accident."

chan looks down, and you let out an airy chuckle. "god, i hate talking about this." you rub your thighs, before looking up. "he told me he was in love with someone, and i encouraged him to make the hour drive to see her. i even offered to tag along, even though it was into the human world."

you're nervous, and chan can feel it. he rounds the island, sliding onto the stool beside you. you twist to face him as he takes your hands in his. how cute, you think.

"there was a really bad thunderstorm, but minhwi literally used to race cars for money. rain or shine, he was an expert behind the wheel. he won so many, and i was there for almost all of them. he called me his biggest cheerleader." chan's thumb wipes at your face, and you hadn't even known you were crying. you feel your chest ache as his hand lingers, before dropping back to your lap. "lightning struck one of the oak trees lining the backway route into town. minhwi tried to swerve out of the way, and we wound up spinning out. the tree landed on the car, and the weight crushed us, and there was glass everywhere. he died on impact."

you sniffle, and chan's eyes are glossy as he clears his throat. "and you blame yourself?" "absolutely." nodding, you interlace your fingers with chan's. "and the fact that i survived and he didn't, it kills me inside. it's not like he would've been able to, he was a…" you trail off, and chan's eyes match yours in size.

"...he was human." he finished, and you can't look at him. "you exposed the world of magic and our practices, to a human." you stay silent, before his arms envelope you in a hug. the burn you feel is almost debilitating, but you feel blue crawling up your neck as he rubs your back softly. "i'm sorry for your loss, y/n."

"that's it?" you blurt, and he laughs against your neck like he did earlier. "yeah, it's not like i can judge you, and it's not like humans don't know we exist. we're just frowned upon, it's not a crime to involve yourself with them. love makes us do crazy things." he pulls back, and you let blue overtake you. "i'm genuinely sorry about your friend. he sounds like he was a great time." "he was. i haven't talked about him since. all i have left is the scars from the accident." you shrug, taking a sip of your water. "scars?"

you flash a smile at him, before shaking your head. "just know, if i ever do let you in my pants, the shirt stays on, not because i'm insecure but because i hate looking at them."

he nods, a shy look crossing his eyes before he closes them. "can i ask you for a favor? before you go to bed, i mean?" "sure, anything." you tuck your hair behind your ears, sitting up. "that emotional blockage you spoke about, you can…remove that, right? i'm not too sure what your powers are." he mumbles as he picks at his nails, and you smile. "i can. would you like me to do that for you?" his eyes look to yours, and you see fear flash through them. "it doesn't hurt, channie. come on, i can do it right now." you slide off the stool, holding your hand out to him. he takes your hand, but instead of following you, he pulls you towards him.

your chest is flush to his, and you see a subtle blush on his cheeks as he dips his head, lips brushing against yours. you relax in his hold, letting your lips mold against his. you can't feel anything but heat and his tongue teasing yours, but it's no big deal (you're trying to convince yourself at this point.) his hands move to hold your face, his fingers burning your skin when he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours.

"not tonight, i don't think i'm ready." he whispers against your lips, and you open your eyes to look into his hazy ones. nodding, you press another chaste kiss on his mouth. "whenever you're ready, channie. i'll be here."

"i'll take the couch." he plants one last kiss on your forehead, and you nod. "if you insist. goodnight, channie." "goodnight, y/n." he watches your glowing form trail down the hall, likely towards your bedroom.

and he sees a hint of indigo spreading across your back as you shut the door behind you.

tuesday – december 15.

chan is a lot nicer as the next two weeks go by. still shows up to class, even early, since your escapade after the party. he finds himself staring at you more often than not, and you're not the only one who notices.

minnie often slips you knowing looks, and you find yourself growing shy as you look to see chan peeking at you over his laptop, eyes glowing that bright violet you've come to adore.

"alright, everybody. have a good weekend!" you smile cheerfully as they file out, your glow now bright blue. the girls had mentioned you looked much more relaxed these days, and you attributed it to 'more sleep.'

you didn't really know what it was. you'd woken up glowing indigo the day after the party, and almost everyday after that. you flickered indigo when you caught chan in the hallway before class on tuesday, and when he hung back a little too long on thursday. really, if you even glanced at chan, you'd flash the dark color and leave the students rubbing at their eyes.

chan, on the other hand, was constantly looking for ways to talk to you.

he saw the flustered flickering, the confusion of your body as it glitched from hue to hue. at one point you had splotches of indigo, pink and your natural gold all over you. you still flirted back at mingyu's advances, albeit he calmed down noticeably. he observed that mingyu was on his phone more often, and you later found out through minnie that he was utterly romanced by jihyo. you thought it funny, and teased him about it (and jihyo, the next time you saw her for coffee and pastries.)

"hey, can we talk?" chan is standing behind you as you wave off your students, and you jump at the closeness. "sure, channie. what's up? is this about your final project?"

it wasn't an unreasonable question. the semester was coming to an end, the students looked visibly stressed and you hadn't heard of any parties since.

but, you knew it was unreasonable for your situation with chan. you never missed his longing glances at your lips, or the fact that he was early to class. his friends changbin and jisung often trailed behind him as he walked to class, and he only introduced you to them because they wouldn't stop badgering him at the doorway. "she's even prettier up close," jisung had said dreamily, and you just gave him a soft smile as you watched him bump into the doorframe.

"not really? maybe." he rubs his neck, and you tilt your head. "what's going on?" 

"uh, i think i'm ready. for what we talked about…the night of the party." he swallows thickly, and you feel taken aback. "oh? what brought this on?" you float to the back, patting the same couch he sits in during class. you tuck your legs under you, holding your head up with the wall. his knees brush yours as he sits, and you wince at the heat you feel in your chest.

"i started the essay you assigned last night." he can't look at you, and you find your stomach to grow increasingly tight. "yeah?" "i can't write anything. i have six drafts already, and i feel so overwhelmed." he's nibbling on his lip, almost as though not to cry. you lean closer, his eyes glassy as they meet yours. frowning, your hand finds home on his jaw, your thumb wiping a few fallen tears. "i'm here, i can help. we can do it here." 

you get up, moving the tables back towards the walls. he watches you as you move, and your back is splotched with indigo. he still doesn't know what it means, but you shiver as it creeps up your neck. your hand flies to your nape, rubbing your skin. it dissipates, returning to your golden glow.

"need an open space. are you sure?" you motion for him to join you in the center of the room, and he nods. you can already feel the same heat on your skin as he settles in front of you, and the same eerie cold of indigo on your shoulders. you huff, sliding your cardigan onto the floor and rolling up your sleeves. "i have to touch your skin for this, okay? and don't worry about anything else, just keep your eyes on me." he's nervous as he lets you take his shaky hands, a soft pout on your lips as you close your eyes. "i got you, okay? i won't let anything hurt you, you're strong." you're muttering, but he finds comfort in your words. he's sure you say this to everybody.

until you start glowing a blinding blaze of indigo, your face scrunched, wincing as the room cools significantly. you're brighter than he's ever seen, possibly brighter than the fluorescent lights that line the university halls. your grimace grows as you furrow your brows deeply, the glow around you seemingly like a flame. he just watches silently as you drop one of his hands.

"can you lift your shirt for me?" your voice is strangled. your eyes are screwed shut, and he quickly does so, your hand trembling as it makes contact. your skin feels like it's on fire, and you don't know what's happening that you can only hear ringing. you'd never felt anything this intensely, but you persist as your hand palms around his torso, before reaching the center. you splay your fingers, pressing into his skin. 

you flash green for a second, so quick he almost misses it.

sliding your hand up his chest, you find the base of his throat. a sigh slips through your lips, and you pull him closer. placing his hand on your waist before moving yours in his hair. you flash slightly pink as he slips his other hand on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. 

"this might feel a little cold." you murmur, and you dim entirely. the glow around you is now gone, a soft grey floating off you. it runs to the floor, like sand, and forms different grainy figures. kind of like…sandcastles. you open your eyes, despite the damn near inferno heat where your skin meets his.

"these are all your blockages." you pull his shirt down, and move his hands from your hips. to your right, is a grainy woman that splits into several more women. next to her, are two figures, who seem to disappear into another figure, a forest. you skirt around him, holding him in place with a hand on his hip. behind him, is another figure.

shaped kind of like you. your thighs, your arms, your hair.

"what…do they mean?" you're snapped out of your process by his voice, and you sigh. "this one…channie, you have to find better coping mechanisms. sleeping with women for stress relief is not good for you. i know it feels good, but there are other things you can do. ever tried puzzles?"

you sink to the floor, pulling him with you. you move the figures next to each other in front of you, the sand-like texture sticking to your skin. gesturing to the women, you keep talking.

"casual sex is awful, when you compare it to relationship sex. shit, even hate sex. at least you feel something other than lust for the person you're fucking." you grimace, and he nods. with a wave of your hand, the sand collapses. "these next three…you can pick which you want first." he glances at them, his hand subconsciously searching for yours. you grab it, and he points at the two people. you let your skin burn as you begin to talk, his fingers tightening around your palm. "these…are your parents, and the forest around the university." the room stills, and chan lets go of your hand. "what about them?" "you're afraid they're not proud of you. you feel like you're missing out on your experiences with them, because…" you wince as an aftershock racks your body, making you shiver. you miss chan's nervous glance. "because they're distant. you feel like an outcast from your family, and it affects the way you form bonds here. it's hard for you to build friendships, and it's hard for you to establish relationships because you fear being loved. or maybe loving, and not being loved back"

taking a breath, you pull your knees to your chest.

"the forest is representative of your lost feeling. all the trees look the same, and it makes you feel like you're constantly going in circles. everyone here is identical, we all have something special. you find it hard to relate because although you know there is something that makes you like us, you're unaware of what it is." he nods, and you let the figures drop.

"this one…" you're mumbling, and he leans slightly closer to hear you. sighing, you pull the figure of you closer. raising your arm, the figure raises her arm. "that's me." his head snaps to look at you, your eyes burning holes into the floor. you glance at the figure, collapsing it. all the figures pool together, and you lean forward, blowing it like you would dust off a bookshelf. it disappears, and chan leans back on his hands.

"what about you?" he murmurs, and you shake your head, moving to lie through your teeth. "i don't know." "you're lying." you feel your glow return, flickering gold. "y/n, tell me what it means." "i can't." you shrug, "i don't know what it means. did this help? do you feel better?"

he's peering at you, his eyes swirling violet. you raise a brow as you look at him over your shoulder, and he just shakes his head. getting up, he stalks back to the couch. you watch as he shoves his arms into his hoodie, and you simply get up, floating towards your desk.

he grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him. you sense the frost of indigo across your mid-back. you turn his hold, eyes glued to his fingers wrapped around your arm. "why?"

"hm?" "why can't you tell me?" his eyes are insistent in their violet glory. chills run down your back, indigo spreading over your hips as you run your eyes over him. he's so beautiful. "because…i can't reciprocate."

he doesn't understand, you can tell as he keeps looking at you. kind of like he wants to eat you alive, but also like he wants you to vanish.

"it means you're in love with me, or you will be. you don't like the idea of it, because it means you'll have to open up to me. that kind of…figure doesn't change, even if you want it to. you won't get the option to leave me out of your heart, and it will be unrequited for the rest of our lives. you will love me, forever, and you won't get a say in it." he lets go, brows furrowed, and his face is deep red in embarrassment. you take a step forward, and your hands instinctively reach for his waist. he allows it as he crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes fixated on you, waiting for you to speak.

"i can't love, chan." you whisper, and feel indigo overwhelm you. pursing your lips, you look down so as to not let him see the tears forming. "trust me when i say i wish i could. i wish i could love you, the way you deserve. i could wake up every morning and reach for you, but you would never be there because i can't give you what you need." the tears are dripping off your face now, pattering on the rug beneath your feet. you let go of him, your fingers tugging your shirt up, slipping it over your head. your hair falls to your shoulders, and you push it back, dropping your shirt on your desk. his eyes soften as he looks at the curve of the wide scar – like an insignia, it's carved into your skin. it starts on your shoulder, curving around it the way a fallen bra strap would. it trails down your sternum, before splitting at your diaphragm. a sharp point ends right under your left breast, while the other curves to the right of your belly button, ending on your hip.

"there is nothing i could do in this world that could ever get me in trouble, because i have this." speaking softly, you lift the cup of your bra, showing him where x marks the spot – directly above your heart. "the coven said this was my punishment for minhwi's involvement in this world, and the outrage i sparked. i can't feel love, and i haven't for so long that even if i did, i wouldn't know what it's like. i won't ever feel what it's like to be loved again, because i don't deserve it."

chan's eyes are glossed over as he brings his hand to your skin, the singe making you grimace as his fingers trace the border lightly. he tucks his lip in his teeth as he touches your shoulder, and your glow flickers slightly brighter. he pulls you in, burying his nose in your hair. "everyone deserves love. this is not your fault, i'm sorry things happened this way." you pull back, his eyes glistening with tears as he thumbs the scar on your shoulder. you give him a sad smile, shrugging in his hold. "it's life. life goes on, but for what it's worth…if i could, i'm sure you'd take great care of me."

"i still can." he says, reaching for your shirt. "i'm a pleaser, really. reciprocation has never been an issue." 

"are you seriously making a pass at me? after i just told you all of that? have some shame." you let an airy chuckle slip through your lips as you take your shirt from him, and he just smiles. one, two dimples. "not being able to love doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to cum. just saying." you gasp, landing a gentle smack on his arm before sliding your shirt on. "chan, stop it! what did i say about casual sex, hm?" pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, he cages you between your desk and his firm chest. "didn't we just talk about this? you know it's not casual." you know it's not casual.

"just once, think about yourself, yeah? do yourself a favor." he places a chaste kiss on your nose, and you feel your cheeks heat as he peppers his lips over them. you let a giggle bubble in your throat, his lips stopping over your lips. "just think about it." he gives your lips a quick kiss, before pulling back.

"it's late, let me walk you home?" he offers a gentle look in his eyes. you just nod, grabbing your purse from the back of your desk. you decide you'll move the tables back on thursday, sliding your cardigan up your arms. "aren't you cold?" he asks, sliding his arm over your shoulders like he did the night of the party, as you lock the classroom door.

"no, actually. i don't know if you feel it, but every time you touch me, i feel like i'm on fire." you chuckle lightly as you start walking, and his breath hitches. glancing at him, he just moves the two of you forward. "chan?" "mhm?" he doesn't look at you, and you stop walking. crossing your arms, he sighs. "it's not a big deal." he shrugs, trying to shake the subject by tugging you slightly closer. you frown, wrapping your arms around his waist. your eyes are fixed on him, and he can't help but coo.

"you're so pretty." he squishes your face with his free hand, and continues walking forward. "does it bother you?" you ask, your fingers drumming on his hip. the air is so frigid, and so is indigo as it fights chan's warmth. you just have to let me warm up to you.

he did so awfully fast.

"does what bother me?" he's tracing circles in your shoulder, the movement scorching. he seems so relaxed, so unperturbed by anything. you'd never seen his face so calm, used to the furrow of his brows or the bags under his eyes darker than they should be. "the fact that i won't be able to love you back." he chuckles, fingers squeezing your shoulder. "i'm used to it, as pathetic as it sounds. love is not my forte, or for the people around me. jisung is surprisingly able to get into almost anyone's pants, and can't settle down for shit. changbin is sickeningly in love with his best friend, and do you remember that guy we saw at the party? the one sneaking out of the closet?" 

you nod, and he laughs. "that's seungmin. that girl he was with, they broke up back in august. they've been fucking around ever since. if they're both at a party, they're hooking up. can't seem to stay away from each other, in a desperate attempt to stay on each other's minds, i guess? it's cute, i think." he shrugs. you feel your heart skip a beat, looking  down to see a white glow on your chest. you ignore it, probably glowing silver as you feel the emptiness, the longing to understand what he means.

"so no. it doesn't bother me, it never will. you get used to it."

it pains you a bit, to hear him sound so…well, used to it. so accustomed to settlement, so unbothered by a lack of reciprocation. selfless, really.

wednesday – december 16.

chan wound up spending the night at your apartment. he insisted on taking the couch before you physically pulled him into your room. the moment his back hit the mattress, he ate his words as you tickled him, forcing him to admit that it was more comfortable.

really, you'd just wanted an excuse to wake up next to him. maybe see his bed head, run your fingers through it, exchange a morning kiss. all of that stupid couple shit that you would never fully experience.

because love makes you do stupid things, like spin out on a backroad and die. so you don't deserve to feel it, and really, it keeps you safe. you have no idea what it's like to love anymore and you pretend you're okay with it. you soothe by saying that not all can be felt, not all that can be desired should be had.

but fuck, if you didn't like chan before, you certainly do now.

there's no reason for this. for him standing in your living room, holding a cup of coffee as he reads through the articles you've written and framed. for him to look so cute in your old abba shirt that's too tight on his arms, for his eyes to be swollen with sleep as he blinks over the mug. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects. on you, on the people in his life.

"you're up." his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you feel your cheeks heat as you nod. "your hair is a mess. here, let me fix it." 

he sets down his cup, calmly running his hand through your mussed hair. the curls fight him as he tucks them behind your ears, his fingers lingering on your lobes as you stare at him. your indigo glow reflects on his skin, his head tilted as he speaks. "what? cat got your tongue, professor?"

your mouth opens to retort, but you have nothing to say. nothing comes out. you feel orange flicker through you as you close your mouth, earning a squeaky laugh from the man in front of you. "cute. there's coffee in the kitchen, i just made it." 

he doesn't have morning classes on wednesdays, you figure as he follows you to the kitchen. because it's eleven thirty and he's still in your apartment, in your shirt, with his hands on your waist, and you don't care one bit as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

"are you upset? you haven't said a word." his thumbs work into the small of your back, and you shudder at his touch, before you shake your head. "i'm not used to having people here so early." "it's nearly noon, y/n." he laughs airily, his breath tickling your neck. "still, so early." 

you try and ignore the heat in your chest, far stronger than it had ever been before as his fingers carefully dip below the waistband of your sweats, coming out just as quickly. "you weren't in bed when i woke up." you're muttering, but his proximity makes him hear you anyway.

"aw, did you want to wake up in my arms like they do in the movies?" he's teasing you. you scoff in embarrassment, eyes not catching the subtle white glow on your chest as you turn in his hold. "no way, pft. i like spreading my limbs like a starfish, you were crowding me all night." "hey, i offered to take the couch." he shrugs, and you just shake your head. "should've insisted a little more, then i wouldn't have felt so cold when i realized you weren't there." you joke as you set down your cup, and he raises a brow. "didn't think it would bother you, but that can be fixed." "chan–" you squeal as he hooks his arms under your thighs, your own flying to his shoulders. your legs wrap around his waist as he marches the both of you to your bedroom. "chan, don't you have classes today?" "don't you?" he kisses your forehead gently as he sets you down on your bed, pushing you back lightly. you roll your eyes, trying to hide your excitement as he slips under your duvet. he tugs you closer, your back to his chest. if he cares about the scorching heat of your skin touching, he doesn't mention it as he settles his head in the crook of your neck, reaching to intertwine your fingers with his. he holds your hand tightly, nestling it between your breasts. "if you wanted to touch my boobs, you could've just asked." "shut up, let me hold you. be selfish, for once." he nips at your earlobe, and you sigh. tender kisses trail your neck, and you can feel pink creeping down your thighs as he gives your hand a squeeze. "is this okay?"

"mhm." you can't speak as he lets go of your hand, fingers dancing across the exposed skin of your hip where your shirt has ridden up. he doesn't go up, but instead softly dips into the waistband of your sweats, snapping your underwear against your skin. a whine slips, and you freeze as he pauses. "should i stop?" his voice is raspy in your ear, and your hand grabs his wrist, bringing it lower. "it's alright. you can keep going. f-further, if you want."

you curse yourself at the stutter, hearing a soft chuckle in his throat as his fingers pad over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches in your throat as he circles the wet spot you've been presented with, a shaky sigh escaping chan as he rocks against you. you feel pink envelope in its warmth as you turn onto your back, holding his hand in place as you capture his lips. he kisses you back fervently, his fingers never stopping their movements on your clothed heat. 

"c-can you…" you whimper against his lips, his hand never slowing as you move against it, brows furrowed. he watches as you try to form words, your eyes screwed shut as your hand tugs his away. "can you go d-down on me?" barely a whisper as you peel your eyes open, and he swears they hold the stars.

"i'd kill a man if you asked me." he shrugs, and you just roll your eyes. tugging your sweats off, he gets a glimpse of the way your panties stick to your lower lips, his heart racing in his chest knowing he's got you soaking.

he could make you cum with them on. he's positive.

spreading your thighs slowly, he watches as you hook your thumbs into the waistband. he pushes your hands away, not bothering to address your confusion as he holds them in place, sinking between your legs. he can't help but tease, dragging his soft lips up your skin, watching you shudder at the contact. he moves to grip your hips, your shirt rising and the end of your scar becoming visible. his eyes flicker to yours, "shirt stays on, right?"

"y-yeah." you look away, and he rubs your hip reassuringly. "s'alright, baby. i can make you cum just like this, if you want."

it's not a question, you can tell as he kisses the pink cotton of your panties. he has no intention of taking them off, he might not even fuck you, but you don't care. all that matters are his eyes peering into your fucking soul as he dips his head down, a chaste kiss pressed to your hip. he trails down, hands circling your plush thighs as he litters them with kisses. your eyes are watching him nervously, lip tucked under your teeth to stop the soft pants from echoing the room. you feel like you can't breathe as he pulls you closer to his face, pressing that strong nose into you, inhaling deeply. "you smell so fucking good, baby." he's not even doing anything, but the vibrations of his moan against you elicit a whimper from your throat, making you buck your hips forward. his grip tightens as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, placing a soft kiss on it before he speaks against it.

"be nice, or i'll make you scream." he smiles into your underwear, tonguing your clit through the fabric. he watches as your glow grows brighter, pulling you impossibly closer. he's letting you grind on his face, to use him for your pleasure, and you'd be lying if that doesn't make you that much more wet for him. "y-you don't want to take them off?"

your stuttering is adorable to him, and the way your fingers card through his hair and tug adds to his own pleasure. shaking his head, he snaps the waistband against you again, "you're so needy, aren't you? can't get off just like this?" "channie, p-please. please, i want your f-fingers." he hums against your clit, continuing his cruel lapping, the sound of your pussy against his face obscene and sloppy. "you can beg better than that. tell me how bad you want it, baby." "w-want it so bad, channie, please. please, i'll be g-good for you, p-promise. s-so good." you're almost sobbing, and he almost feels bad. a gentle laugh leaves his throat as he thumbs your slit, leaving sticky strings against his skin as he gives in. "so good? so, so good for me? is that right?" he slides the flimsy fabric down your legs, the exposure to the cool air making you shiver. he's watching your face contort as he collects your arousal on his fingers, before slowly teasing your entrance. "i swear to god, chan-" your retort gets cut off by a gasp, his fingers hitting just right, his lips sucking tortuously on your clit. he likes it messy, is all you can think in your fucked out state as you coat his entire hand in your slick, feeling him groan against your pussy.

"look at you, so pretty. you're a good girl for me, right? you're gonna soak the sheets, hm?" he feels you clamp around his fingers, another wave of your arousal glazing his palm as you sob. "fuck, you sound so hot." "c-channie..." you rasp, your voice so low he almost misses it. he peers at you over your soft tummy, your lips swollen and covered in your spit from biting back your moans. you're actively whining, grinding against his hand in a weak attempt at reaching your release. "aw, baby wants to cum? is that it?"

you whimper, making him curl his fingers inside your wet heat. he seemed to have found the perfect spot as you arched your back off the bed, attempting to pull away from him. his left arm holds you tightly in place, your fingers clutching his wrist as your choked moan rings blissfully in his ears. your thighs close around him, his soft shh doing nothing to quiet you down as you let your orgasm wrack your legs. his lips pepper kisses all over your pelvis, mumbles of praises as he works his way up. 

he hovers over your face, pressing his soft lips on your cheek. you wrap your arms around his neck, shivering at the way his fingers pinch your clothed nipple lightly. "you can give me one more, right? just one more, princess." he's murmuring against your skin, and you nod as he reaches your lips. 

"just one more?" you nip at his lower lip, before sinking in to kiss him. "just one. want to feel you around me, want to know how good i'm making you feel." you realize it's important to chan, despite what he said the night before. he wanted to be praised, he wanted to make somebody proud, even if this was the only way he felt he could do it. he could act like he's this statue, this emotionless, needless creature of nature – but he also desired approval, to be needed, to be wanted.

to be loved.

you don't say anything as you let his hands push your knees to your chest, his lips now suckling on your nipple through your shirt. your hands move to his head, pushing it away as you go to slip it off. his hands let go of your legs, entwining your fingers with his brows furrowed. "you don't have to." "i want to." you quip back quickly, tugging your fingers out of his grasp. you hook them at the hem of your shirt, lightly lifting off the bed to slide it off. he hesitates, his eyes tracing the curves of the raised skin. the way it glows lightly, almost as though it's losing its defined edges.

his eyes flicker to yours, your gaze intently scanning his face. did you think he'd be disgusted? maybe even repulsed? lowering his head, he brushed a kiss to your lips, before he allowed himself to sink to your chest. you breathed in nervously, your fingers gripping the sheets next to your body when you felt his mouth planting feather-light touches to your scar.

he can feel your skin heat under his face, the more he travels along the healed welt. the glow is slightly brighter than your overall pink, as you shudder under him, his hands pulling your fingers into his, the crumpled sheets forgotten as he pins your arms above your head.

"you're so beautiful. gorgeous, ethereal. no words could express how lovely you are." he whispers as he presses one final kiss where x marks the spot, and you jolt lightly at the singe you feel. it spreads, the whole insignia across your torso burning deeply as he moves back. his eyes are flashing with something you can't read. "chan…" "sorry." he shakes his head, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hands. you tilt your head at him, before glancing at his body, a smile spreading on your plump lips. "are you going to fuck me with all your clothes on?"

"i can." he smiles, and you raise an eyebrow. "off, all of it." 

standing off the side of your bed, he tugs your old abba shirt off, and you watch with sinful eyes as he flings it away. "stop staring at me." he whispers, and you shake your head playfully. "you said you'd kill a man if i asked, and gave me the best head of my life, but i can't watch you strip?" 

"the best, huh?" he ignores everything else he slips his sweats off, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. "don't get cocky, or this won't count as extra c-credit." your eyes peer at him, the leaking head of his thick cock already teasing your folds lightly. his hands circle your legs once more, pulling one over his shoulder while folding the other close to your chest. he stares at your soaked cunt, the way it clenches around nothing. so inviting, so wet, so ready for him.

"that's alright, let's count it as the first class i missed. what was it, getting to know me? ask me something." he continues his teasing, watching as you squirm against him. "uhm, o-okay. what's your favorite color?"

"really?" he rubs against you lightly, his tip dragging over your clit so menacingly, you swear you could cum from just that. "hm, i like black." "black is an ab-absence of color, fuck." you dig your nails into your thighs as he shallowly thrusts into you, the lack of warning wracking a shudder up your spine. "mm, if you can't keep talking there's going to be an absence of dick in about two seconds."

"n-no, no please. shit, that feels so good." you can't keep your eyes open as he slowly sinks further into you, stilling his movements as you tuck your lip into your teeth. "ah, ah. eyes open, keep talking to me." his fingers lightly tap your cheek, your skin burning in embarrassment as you peel your eyes open. "next question, baby." "b-biggest accomplishment so f-far?" you swallow thickly as his hips are flush against your ass, allowing you to adjust to the size of him before making any more movements. he leans his head against your ankle, brows furrowed as he speaks. "probably making you cum so hard, you cry." you narrow your eyes as you look at him, "you h-haven't, though?" "but i will." he kisses your shin, giving an experimental thrust of his hips. your eyes flutter shut, a silent gasp from your lips turning to soft mewls as he starts a gentle pace. "next question." "d-do you believe in love at first s-sight?" you feel him hesitate, before he gives you a particularly harsh thrust. "somewhat." he rubs your thigh gently before continuing his brutal ministrations. "harder, please." silently, he obliges, letting your breathy moans fill his ears instead of talking. he hates talking, he hates answering questions, but he can't help and adore the tone of your voice, the softness of your queries, the avoidance in answering his.

"you feel so good, channie, holy shit." he can feel you clenching tightly around him, but lets your praise take precedence. the way you're arching your back off the mattress, hairline lined with beads of sweat as you let him fuck into you, just the way you like. the way you seem to love, as he lowers to whisper in your ear. "next question."

the proximity makes everything feel like it's a thousand degrees, your hands flying to his hair as he sucks on your collarbone lightly. "favorite s-song? ah!' you hiss at his teeth on your skin, feeling his grin against you.

"your voice." his thrusts are slowly becoming less steady, but you don't care. you don't care because his skin is scorching hot, he's holding you to him, you can feel the air of his pants against your neck and he feels so good.

there's no reason for this. for him to be blissfully ruining you while holding you flush to his chest, your nipples touching with every roll of his hips. for him to look so good while he defiles you, the way you're not even speaking coherently in his ear. for your soul to feel like it's aching for more of him, but how much more could you have when you can't love him. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects, on you, as the white-hot of your orgasm starts approaching fast.

"i…" you feel a sob rip through you, and he instinctively pulls away from you. "hey, hey. it's alright, baby." guilt fills his chest, his hands holding your face as the tears stream down your cheeks. "it's alright, we don't have to–" pushing yourself up on your elbows, you smash your lips to his, feeling yourself glow so hot you're practically on fire. it's all teeth and tongue, and you're wrapping your fingers around his throat before he can react. squeezing gently, he whines into your mouth, his hips snapping erratically against you. you swallow his sounds in your quiet sobs, the tears dripping down your neck doing nothing to cool you down. 

"y/n…" he whines pitifully against your lips, and you can feel his pout emerge as you clench around him. he settles his face in the crook of your neck, cheeks flushed. "p-please don't stop, don't stop, e-ever…" you're just as needy as he is, throwing your head back as he bites at your shoulders, your hand on his throat tightening as he sends you over the edge.

"fuck, baby." the whimper into your shoulder does nothing good for him as you clench around him, milking whatever is left of him, hips driving you both into overstimulation. he slows, his head lifting from your shoulder to peer into your eyes. you avoid them, letting go of his throat and wiping them off with the back of your hand.

the room feels heavy, with guilt. shame. maybe even a bit of hatred, but you’re not entirely sure as he kisses you gently, chastely, before pulling back. his eyes hold the sun, the stars, the moon.

"guess you got your biggest accomplishment, huh?" you chuckle thickly, and he shakes his head, pulling out slowly. his eyes avert to your center, watching his cum drip out of you slowly. he feels weird, it's such a waste. "are you okay? i should've asked sooner, i'm sorry." "no, no. it was…it was really good." you admit, feeling your glow flicker. you close your legs, scooting up on the bed as he reaches for your shirt, you cross your arms over your chest, fingers digging into your sides. "i really liked it, actually." "are you sure?" he's absent, you can tell as he wipes the back of your legs gently, before tossing the shirt over his shoulder. "i'm sorry for crying, i know it was really sudden. i just felt so overwhelmed and you felt so good, and i…" you trail off, and he feels his cheeks heat, shaking his head again. "no, it's fine. that was the goal, after all. i…do you want me to go?" your brows furrow, and you tilt your head. "go? why would i want you to go?" he shrugs, not meeting your eyes as he tugs on his sweatpants. "i don't know, i usually leave after…things like this." "what happened to 'you know it's not casual?'" you use air quotes, and you see his cheeks burn bright red. "i…i don't think i'd be able to do this, especially after what we talked about yesterday."

"do…what? we just had sex, it's not a big deal." you uncross your arms, ignoring your blatant nudity as he slips your abba shirt to you, taking it just to toss it to the side. "...act like i don’t care. i really, really like you, y/n, and i already feel so guilty about this." he can't look at you as he slips his hoodie on, the one you'd thrown over your desk chair last night when he said it was too hot to wear to bed.

you close your mouth, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grab the shirt, tugging it over your head. "i figured this would happen. maybe you should go, chan. clear your head, and we can talk later."

your brows are furrowed as you open your bedroom door, and he swallows thickly. he knew what he was getting himself into, so why does it bother him now? he said he wouldn't care, he said it so confidently.

and yet, he can't bring himself to say a word as he slams out of your apartment, eyes full of tears. leaving you feeling dejected, guilty and alone.

thursday – december 17.

it wasn't until the next day that you noticed it was significantly smaller.

it didn't curve under your breast anymore, the subtle x on your skin gone. it didn't wrap around your shoulder anymore, and it stopped right next to your navel. the scarred skin was now a bit paler, and you'd grimaced as you tugged your shirt on.

you couldn't be arsed with thinking about it, really, because now you had to walk into your classroom and face chan. of course, the chances of him not being there were fifty-fifty.

which inherently, made you feel worse.

you didn't understand why you couldn't stop thinking about his words, and what he said. your voice was his favorite song, he didn't care if you loved him or not, he somewhat believed in love at first sight? he'd met you officially a little over a month ago, no one can fall in love that quickly.

groaning, you felt orange flicker across your body as you let your heels clack against the saltillo tile of the hallway, tossing your half-empty coffee cup in the trash can. upon entering your room, the air feels…cooler.

chan is sitting on the couch, his legs squished together as minnie and shuhua peer at his face. soyeon, mingyu and yugyeom are flipping through various textbooks, each talking about what could have caused a sudden irischroma shift. he probably feels the heat of your stare, his eyes flickering to yours.

they're a deep, deep indigo color. they flash lightly at the sight of you, and minnie looks up to see you standing at your podium. "y/n…you've gotta come see this." "i can…i can see it, minnie." your voice is faint as you feel your chest searing hot, your hand coming to soothe it. clearing your throat, you shake your head as you feel a little weary, shuhua approaching you quickly. "are you okay? y/n?" "yes, i'm okay." your breathing becomes a little labored, soyeon and mingyu rushing to your side as you sink to the floor. "just give me some room." your hands touch the cool floor, and you can feel yourself dimming by the second. 

"gyu, get help." minnie shoves mingyu out the door, and you can hear his footsteps fading as he runs to the infirmary. "chan, help me pick her up." yugyeom urges, and you weakly shake your head.

"i'm fine, i'm okay." you choke out, your hand clutching your chest as you feel chan's warm hands on your arms, circling around to lift you gently. "easy, easy. i got you, baby." he murmurs, and you feel your eyes sting with tears as he lets you slump against him, your glow fading fast.

"stay with me." his fingers dig into your side as he picks you up bridal style, carefully walking you over to the couch. yugyeom pulls their backpacks off, letting him lower you gently. minnie fans you with a stack of papers. chan peers at your face, your brows pinched as you breathe in as deeply as you can, his thumb instinctively padding at the crease. huffing, you tear his hand away, lacing your fingers in his. he acts like his heart doesn’t lurch forward.

"alright, everybody, back up." mingyu's voice rings in the room, and your bleary eyes can barely make out the oxygen mask that nurse taeyeon is slipping over your face. "there, there, professor. we got you."

you're shivering as she instructs chan to lift you onto the gurney on three, and you almost cry at the loss of contact when he sets you down. "chan, chan." your voice is nearly a whisper, and the students watch as you flicker, your glow lost as it glitches between colors. 

"maybe you should go with her." yugyeom nudges him as nurse taeyeon glances at him, and she crosses her arms as chan nods slowly,slipping his bag over his shoulder. he takes nurse taeyeon's place at the end of the gurney, rolling you quietly out of the classroom. you're flickering from color to color as he walks slightly faster at nurse taeyeon's command.

"what happened?" she asks, and chan shakes his head as they take a sharp turn, your groan resounding in the hall. "i'm not sure, she just started clutching her chest and basically fell to the floor." nodding, taeyeon stays quiet the rest of the walk, her eyes only glancing at his worried expression and your hazy one. they're in love, she thinks. this is love.

taeyeon can't really help you. her powers lay in the herbalism field, she has no idea what's wrong, and she can't get a specialist here fast enough. she watches as chan carefully positions you in the empty room, letting his bag slide onto the floor before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. she simply sighs, calling that she'd be back with a rosemary tea and to just sit tight as she calls for the master sorcerers.

his hand gently strokes your ankle, making you flinch. "chan, chan i can't breathe." you tug at your collar, and he quickly reaches to unbutton your top buttons. "it's gonna be okay, angel." he's whispering as your hand grasps his wrist, the oxygen mask doing little to help as you wheeze.

"chan…" his head lifts, and your eyes are teary as you hear footsteps approaching hurriedly. he doesn't acknowledge you as the master sorcerers burst into your room, taeyeon trailing behind them with a steaming cup. "excuse me, coming through." she perches at the edge of the bed, carefully pulling you up. you whimper softly, and chan feels his heart ache at your pain. "drink this, it'll help your stress. that's probably what this is, just some anxiety."

taeyeon's tone is soft as she takes off the oxygen mask, the master sorcerers waiting until they can swoop in. neither of them acknowledge chan, despite getting to know him insanely well over the past few years. he could dare to think that they were afraid of him, of not knowing what he was. master sorcerers my ass, he thinks.

"i can't…" you're breathless, and taeyeon's gaze softens as she lets you slump down on the pillow once more. "it's alright. the master sorcerers are here, okay? they'll take care of you." she pats your shoulder, and you nod wearily as the grandest of all, dr. kang seulgi, takes a step forward.

"bang chan, why are you here?" her sharp voice echoes in the room, and your hand weakly reaches for him as he slides off the bed. "i brought her in, dr. kang."

"i see. you can evacuate the premises." she waves him away nonchalantly, and he frowns deeply as he steps back, your eyes fixed on him. almost like you're begging him to stay.

"i think i'll stay, actually." he blurts, and dr. kang's eyes snapped to him. "i'm not asking you, chan, i'm telling you." "let the boy stay, what's the harm?" dr. min's voice rings from his spot against the door frame, and chan glances up at the nimble man. "c'mon, seulgi."

"yoongi, if you undermine me again, you're sleeping on the couch." she grits, her wedding band to dr. min glinting in the low light as she rubs her temples. your hand reaches for chan once more, a soft groan from your lips catching his attention. he takes it, entwining your fingers quickly, kneeling at your side. "of course, jagi. y/n, what seems to be the problem?" dr. min pushes past, noting the undone buttons of your blouse. your chest is glowing, but the rest of you is the dimmest indigo he'd ever seen. much less, having seen you never glow indigo. your breathing is still labored, chest glowing brighter as chan once more rubs the pinch of your brows away.

"y/n, i'm going to open your shirt, okay?" dr. kang pushes past dr. min, her nimble fingers undoing the rest of the buttons. your scar is illuminated, but…it's not really there. it's faded, and chan can tell this is out of the ordinary as dr. kang's brows raise.

"yoongi." her voice is low, bringing her husband to her side. "oh, my."

their eyes meet, as though they're speaking telepathically. dr. kang's eyes flash gold as she furrows her brows, her husband grimacing as his own flash green. they glance at chan, who is gingerly moving your hair out of your face, his fingers barely ghosting over your sticky skin.

you can barely see him through your foggy eyes, but you're scanning him intently. you can see the glowing indigo of his eyes, that matches yours. you're dimming, but he's brighter than ever and it sends a shiver up your spine. his hand squeezes yours, a wave of heat attacking your chest.

dr. kang looks back, her husband staring intently at her.

"he healed her, it seems." his eyes speak, and she shakes her head. "he's not a healer, remember? we tried that already." yoongi nods, eyes fluttering back to the both of you. chan's now sitting on the edge of the bed, your arm draped over his lap as he speaks to you gently. he can't hear what chan is saying, but the glint of adoration in his eyes tells him all he needs to know.

"chan, can i see you in the hallway?" dr. min speaks, and your head turns to him. you pout, your eyes filling with tears as chan pulls away from you. dr. kang gives him a hard glare as she takes his place, her cool hand placed directly on your hot skin, making you groan.

"yes, dr. min?" chan's eyes are enticing, and dr. min shrugs. "let's try a little something, hm?" chan follows dr. min's line of vision, the door of the bathroom ajar. dr. min makes a gesture for chan to wait, before ducking into the bathroom, shutting the door. chan hears a loud crash, and dr. min appears just as fast, with a bloody fist.

"dr. min, are you alright? i can get nurse taeye-" dr. min places his free hand over chan's mouth, a knowing look in his eyes as he holds up his injured hand. "heal me, chan." "what? sir, i'm not a healer, you know that." chan furrows his brows, and dr. min shakes his head. "channel it." dr. min's eyes are boring into chan's soul as he looks away, shivering as he tries to channel any sort of magical energy for this injury. he's not surprised when nothing happens, and dr. min nods his head.

dr. min simply heals it himself, and chan looks away as the skin closes quickly, the dried blood disappearing before his eyes. vitalis mendacium, he thinks it's called. "chan, i think i may have an idea of what's going on with professor y/n." dr. min clasps his hands together in front of him, and chan tilts his head.

"you're in love with her, aren't you?" dr. kang's voice rings from the doorway of your room, and chan gapes at her. "w-what?" "don't play dumb. she told me she helped you clear some emotional blockage on tuesday, and she showed up in your blockages." dr. kang crosses her arms, and a groan is heard from you, chan flinching at the sound. "chan, this is dangerous territory." his eyes narrow as he shakes his head. "i don't think what you did to her was right. i think we all deserve a chance at love, no matter our mistakes. you're wrong, dr. kang." dr. kang scowls, "you think we did this to her? the old coven did it, we had no say!" she points between herself and her husband, and dr. min places his hand on her shoulder.

"chan, seulgi is right. in this world, there is no amount of study done that could reverse what the old coven has done to y/n. they cursed layers upon layers of punishment on her, this was never intended to be something that could be undone." dr. min speaks slowly, and chan can hear you whining in the room behind the couple. he's antsy, he feels sick to his stomach knowing you're a mere ten feet away and he can't make you feel better. 

"i don't know what to do." dr. kang admits lowly, her hand covering her eyes as she looks away from the men in front of her. "i think…" dr. min trails off as chan pushes past them, sliding next to you. he watches chan fan you with his hand, your own wrapped around his waist as you shiver.

"you trust me, right?" he looks to seulgi, who nods her head. "always." his hands spin her around, making her face the two of you. "i think this is his to heal. look how quiet she is in his presence, she's barely moving. her breathing is more steady." "yoongi, he's not a healer." seulgi groans into her hands, her eyes catching a flash of white protruding from you as chan runs his hand down your back. she watches as he helps you peel your jacket off, your baby pink shirt transparent from the sheen of your sweat soaking through.

"maybe not for us, but for her." yoongi mumbles, seeing chan swipe your hair away from your neck, his lips pursed as he blows cool air against your skin. your groan is one of relief as he rocks you, and seulgi glances at her husband, swallowing thickly. "they're so rare, yoongi. there hasn't been one in this dimension in three hundred and twenty five years."

"i think we may have another on our hands." yoongi smiles widely as you slowly prop yourself up on your elbow, chan's worried eyes scanning your face for distress. you make a noise of disgust, your glow returning green steadily as chan helps you sit up. "what happened? ugh, i'm all sweaty."

glancing at your hands, you see them glowing indigo as it spreads up your body. you turn, seeing the master sorcerers staring at you from the doorway. grimacing, you glimpse at chan, who is looking at you intently. "hey, you alright?" his hand is holding your hip, and your frown falters as you look into his eyes. they're glowing bright as he looks you over. "what happened to your eyes?" your voice is raspy, and he looks away, shrugging.

"i'm not sure. they started changing last night." he swallows, and you shudder as indigo engulfs you entirely. "they look…pretty."

he snorts, shaking his head. "you might want to button up your shirt." feeling your cheeks burn, your fingers fumble with the buttons when you feel seulgi's cool hand on your wrist. "wait."

letting her lay you back, you miss chan's warmth as he slips off the bed, lingering from a few feet away as she opens your shirt. her eyes widen as she quickly beckons her husband over. his eyes snake down your torso, and his eyes glint with green as he meets seulgi's. they're silent, their faces moving as they communicate.

"y/n?" dr. kang's voice is low as she runs her hand through your mussed curls, and you meet her line of vision. her eyes are soft, staring at your torso. "y/n, do you know the history of psychosomatic healers?"

raising a brow, you nod your head. "yeah, they're the rarest of the healing trifecta. there hasn't been one in this dimension since 1699, and even then there's only seven recorded cases because they're so difficult to pinpoint at commencement." dr. min steps forward, noticing chan's eyes glued to the floor as dr. kang examines you further.. "y/n, i'd like to try something, if you don't mind." nodding, you allow dr. kang to take your arm in her hand, pulling your sleeve off your shoulder. 

with a quick swipe of her nails, you're bleeding. you gape at her, a scoff flying from your lips when chan looks up, the sound tearing him from his thoughts. "are you serious, seulgi?" you push her away, flickering orange and dr. min beckons chan forward. "touch her, chan."

taking a deep breath, chan gets closer to you, his nose scrunching at the blood seeping into your shirt. he takes your hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. you look away from your shoulder, zeroing in on the subtle touch of affection when a white glow catches everyone's eyes. tugging at your shirt sleeve, seulgi reveals a clean shoulder, no injury visible.

"a psychosomatic healer can only heal those they love." she states, her eyes boring into chan's as he tries to tug his hand away, but you only use it as leverage to sit up. "what the fuck are you guys on about?" "there's no way you're that dumb, y/n." seulgi snorts, her manicured fingernail pointing at your chest. "i don't know how he did it, and i don't think we'll ever know. the curse the coven set upon you has been lifted by him." you look down — the raised welt where your scar once was has dissipated. widening your eyes, you peel the shoulder of your shirt down, the formerly scarred skin now smooth. your fingers tremble as you run them over your soft flesh, feeling the sting of tears forming. you can feel the burn of a sob in your throat as chan releases your hand, stepping back as you process.

the burning of his gaze, of his skin on yours, of your chest in his presence. the ache you felt in your soul yesterday as his lips brushed your neck with every roll of his hips, the way his answers confused you. the anger you felt while walking to class, at not being able to decipher him.

the way his angel eyes held the sun, the moon, and the stars. the way worry creases his brow though relief has washed over his frame, the way you're itching to hold him close, and never, ever let go.

it all makes sense.

"we'll give you both a moment." the master sorcerers bow their heads as they back out of the room, dr. min closing the door behind him. you sit in silence, feeling sticky and gross and overwhelmed.

"you're in love with me?!" you shriek, and chan throws up his hands in defense. "i thought we already knew this, why are we screaming?!" you swat his arm, and a nervous laugh bubbles up his throat. flopping back down onto the gurney, you dramatically cover your eyes with your arm, sighing. "now i have to cherish this, and we're probably going to get married and have kids and all that shit. are you serious? are you serious." "y/n…" you stand up, pacing back and forth in front of him, your hands weaving through your hair to soothe the onsetting migraine at the information. "how are you not freaking out, chan? you just found out you're one of the rarest healers in the trifecta, and not to mention the first in over three centuries! are you shitting me right now?" "y/n?"

you're not listening as you continue to ramble, pacing a hole into the floor when he grabs your shoulder, pulling you to him. taking both your hands in his, he looks you in the eyes. "you're spiraling." 

huffing, you nibble on your lower lip. "what happens now, chan?"

his smile is warm, it's comforting, it's making your stomach flip as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "i don't know. isn't that the beauty of it all, though? not knowing where you end up?"

pouting, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing his warmth to seep into your skin. "i've never felt this, chan. i don't know what it's like to be lost, i've always had my answers." you can feel the vibrations of his chest as he laughs, his hand coming to stroke your hair gently.

"that's okay, it'll be like the blind leading the blind. for now, we can just focus on…us? maybe go on a date, have dinner…" his voice is soft as you look up to him, his eyes already scanning your face for any hint of rejection. "unless you don't want to." you do, of course you do.

"i'm all sweaty, and gross. we've had a revelation about your purpose in this world, your eyes are a different color, and you want to focus on us?" your voice is laced with incredulity, a hint of amusement peeking through as it tugs at your lips. "i have my whole life to focus on other things. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? i have that answer, that piece now, but i'm already figuring this part out." squeezing your shoulder, he places a chaste kiss on your hairline, your nose scrunching.

"why did you come with me?" you poke his chest, and he smirks. "yesterday or today?"

gaping, you land a soft smack to his chest, his squeaky laughter filling your ears as your cheeks heat. "chan! not funny!" "sorry, i'm sorry! i saw an opportunity, i took it. but, i was worried about you." he starts, taking a piece of your hair between his fingers. "i saw how angry you looked before minnie spoke to you, and before you looked at me. you started looking faint when we met eyes, and i was…i was scared that something might happen to you and that i wouldn't be able to apologize for potentially overstepping boundaries, or ruining whatever little game we have going on."

"you couldn't ruin whatever this is even if you tried." you scoff, your words tumbling out before you can process them. "i've never felt anything this intense before in my entire life. my ears started ringing when i touched your chest on tuesday, here." you splay your fingers on his hoodie, in the same place.

"i couldn't hear a thing. that was me, the blockage, i was basically hearing myself. if we didn't have that moment, if you hadn't let me in, none of this would have happened." you speak softly, taking his hands in yours, his eyes glassy as he looks into yours. your smile is gentle, and he can feel his stomach flutter as you lean closer. "and i'm so glad it did. despite this whole day being so weird, despite the coven probably burning holes into the back of my head right now from hell right now, and despite the tears i can see about to spill out of your eyes, nothing could ruin this. okay?" he looks away, nibbling on his lip. your thumb strokes his cheek, catching a few stray tears as you make him face you. vision blurring, but you can see him clearer than ever.

"okay?" you insist, and he nods. "okay."

"good." pulling him towards you, you crash your lips to his, feeling your heart beating in your ears. your arms cross over his shoulders, his hands finding home on your bare waist, the kiss becoming heated. parting his lips, your tongue snakes its way in, a soft groan from chan as he pushes you back, your knees hitting the gurney. 

"not in here, guys." dr. kang's voice echoes in the room, and you spring apart like teenagers. wiping at your lips, you watch as chan grabs your discarded jacket, and his bag. outstretching his hand to you, you take it, letting him rush the both of you towards the door. quickly bowing to the master sorcerers, you giggle as the cool december air hits your chest.

"yeah, y/n! nice titties, girl!" you hear a holler from down the hall, your eyes catching a glimpse of minnie's teal hair. you smile widely, waving as chan continues, a blush coating his cheeks as you begin to float behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"where are we going?" you mumble in his ear, and he shivers. "to yours. i need to show you how much you mean to me." you let the butterflies bounce around in your stomach, knowing exactly what was coming your way.

friday – january 08.

your relationship with chan had become the talk of the wizard world. several words were thrown your way, many to your detriment – but you chose to focus on 'love epiphany' and 'anomalies made to traverse together.'

he naturally passed your class with flying colors, what more could you do when he literally discovered himself? the students deemed it completely fair, with only yugyeom choosing to retake your course because he felt like he didn't really do what was necessary. mornings were filled with the buzzing of your phone – the students had made a group chat and continuously badgered you with memes, and mingyu with his graduation photos.

whereas, chan's mornings were filled with you, his phone long put on silent. your soft hair tickling his neck, only for your gentle lips to place chaste kisses along his jaw as he awoke. your warm leg draped over his waist, your knee teasing his crotch so early was something he'd never get used to. your arm, propping you up once he lazily peels an eye open, closing it the moment he sees your beaming smile, a blush coating his cheeks.

"do you always stare at me when i sleep?" he mumbles, his fingers dipping under the hem of your sleep shorts. "do birds fly?" "you're a creep, you know that?" laughing, he lets you hold his eyes open with your fingers, the indigo glow of them making you glow brighter in turn. that was what it meant, after all – the subzero color now warm, as you illuminated the room with your love for chan. "yeah? well you're creeping your fingers into my panties, so maybe shut up."

your lips are addicting, he could never get enough of them as you brush them against him. both sets, of course.

kidding. sort of. not at all. he loves you, okay? that's all that matters.

"you should check your email, channie." you murmur against his neck, and he nods his head, watching as you try not to smile. "oh i should, should i?" ignoring the raise of his eyebrow, you reach for chan's phone, plopping it on his bare chest. chan lolls his head back, hands relocating to your hips as he pulls you on top of him. your cheeks heat at the soft love bites on his pec, but shake it away as his voice snakes into your head

"you seem a little too excited, baby." he ruffles your hair as he unlocks his phone, and you just bite your lip as he scans the screen. "tell me, sorcerer, what's the news?" your voice bounces off the walls, with chan just squeezing your hip in response.

from: [email protected]

dearest bang chan,

it is our honor here at the spellbound institute of magic to let you know that you have been chosen to be published in this year's edition of the spellbound sorcerer. such an honor is only awarded to those with extraordinary skill. 

we've also made the unanimous decision for you to speak at this year's annual convention, taking over the healing trifecta's booth. more information will be provided as the date approaches.

we look forward to seeing you and professor y/l/n there.

signed,

dr. kang seulgi

dr. min yoongi

master sorcerers

spellbound institute of magic

his eyes flicker to yours, your grin so wide, it's infectious. "i'm getting published." "you're getting published!" you cheer loudly, and chan feels his cheeks heat as you pepper his face in kisses. "you're getting published, baby! we have to celebrate! let's ask your parents to dinner, yeah? we can get a cabin for the weekend, so they don't have to drive home so late."

he forgets how you pried the truth about his parents out of him, but he's almost sure it was last tuesday when you made him beg for you to sit on his face. almost sure, but he doesn't really care anymore. after all, he'd warmed up to you.

"i'm so proud of you, channie." your voice is gentle as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, and he nods, burying his face in your chest as embarrassment spreads in his. "hey, you can't hide from me. what happened to the praise kink? don't you want to know how good you're doing?" "i told you that in confidence!" he swats at your leg as he nestles into your laughter. "i know! it's just me and you here, what's the problem?! let me praise you!"

"never. come on, let's read my stupid essay." he throws the comforter off his legs, and you huff as you climb off his lap. sitting up on the edge of the bed, you lean against his back, your arms hooked around his broad shoulders. the same ones full of your nail marks, a few imprints of your teeth scattered around them. "i graded it, i already read it." "well, praise me while i read it." he snorts, and you press a soft kiss to his shoulder. "mm, okay. i'll take what i can get."

bang chan

professor y/l/n

identity theory

if you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it. – tony stark, spider-man: homecoming (2017)

the fall was slow, like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement.

i've been lost before – in grocery stores, misunderstanding assignments. i've even been lost in the woods before, riddled with anxiety standing within the trees. so uniform, full of belonging. those trees know where their purpose lies.

me? i've been wandering this world not knowing where my purpose lies, what i'm meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose. this is a feeling of disorientation, isolation, off course. it's all the same anyway, isn't it?

i spent years looking for answers – from the day i was dropped off at the academy to the day i met professor y/l/n. life was well sullied with fear, a feeling of desperation as i felt my time running low. i willingly put myself in danger, hopping from dimension to dimension with the aid of some friends to find something to ease my worries, and came up empty. answers will find you, not you them.

another thing i failed to consider was that i perhaps had my answer all along. from the natural instinct to protect and take care of the people i hold close, to the agony of being away from my family – all i needed was a catalyst. something to throw me even more off course, even more confusing than what life had come to be before her.

professor y/l/n has brought me to life. truly, i could never say enough to express the appreciation i have for her, but i will attempt it any chance i get. an enigma, an anomaly, a paradigm – she is far, far more than these words could begin to define. she's selfless, she's full of light and i could never understand that. my admiration for her goes well beyond this lifetime, and like the praying mantis, she was a beacon of guidance.

her story is full of twists and turns as she allowed me to indulge. from the flickering of the glow around her, to understanding that only the deepest of her indigo hue glows for me, i'm honored to say the least. i will never get enough of her story, of her truths, of her. the idea that love lies in the hands of the beholder is entirely true in this case. to be loved is to be known, and she read me far beyond my wildest dreams the moment her golden cast laid upon me. 

eckhart tolle says that, to love is to recognize yourself in another. i have never experienced something as deep as this, nor have i ever seen myself in y/n – and i'm glad i don't. my insecurities, my flaws, what i dislike about myself, are my own. however, i know she sees something i don't, and i trust that. i trust her, with my entire being. without her, i'd have no clue of my purpose. to younger me, who is still wondering the answer to that, i propose this.

your purpose is to love. love beyond your ways, love selflessly. love selfishly, like it's all you can do. like it's all you're capable of, because the moment you lay eyes on y/n? you will see, it is. loving her is all you can do. life without love is meaningless, life without her is hopeless.

temptaetions © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

taglist: @cookiesandcreammy | @alician87

(if you asked to be on the taglist and do not see yourself here, please consider checking if you have your age/year of birth in your desc! otherwise, you will not be tagged. thanks!)

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fic #bang chan imagine #bang chan angst #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #chan x reader #chan fic #chan imagine #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz fic #skz fluff #skz angst #skz smut #useraltair: originals🌷 #spellbound secrets #kvanity #cultofdionysusnet

[aemondsbabe]

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?” 

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

 Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home. 

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well. 

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it. 

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement. 

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was. 

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk. 

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face. 

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you. 

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings. 

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly. 

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does. 

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin. 

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks. 

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor. 

“A… A great victory, master!” 

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare. 

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?” 

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you. 

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall. 

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded. 

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –” 

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately. 

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always! 

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything. 

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts. 

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.” 

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow. 

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours. 

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad. 

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer. 

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet. 

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone. 

A kindness, even now. 

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly. 

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.” 

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head. 

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers. 

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot. 

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter. 

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace. 

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow. 

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.” 

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.” 

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them. 

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way. 

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill. 

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again. 

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?” 

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip. 

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his. 

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same. 

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you. 

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers. 

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself. 

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. 

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm. 

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold. 

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine. 

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking. 

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives. 

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason. 

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his. 

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. 

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend. 

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine. 

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her. 

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion. 

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore. 

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now. 

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again. 

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you. 

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say. 

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly. 

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close. 

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew. 

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips. 

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.” 

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you. 

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else. 

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet. 

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

#my writing #ramsay bolton #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton fanfiction #ramsay bolton fanfic #ramsay bolton fic #ramsay bolton smut #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones fic #game of thrones smut #got #got fanfiction #got fanfic #got fic #got smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #smut #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf

[eraenaa]

Stereotypical (Demi-God AU)

Aemond, Son of Ares x Reader, Daughter of Aphrodite

Synopsis: The daughter of Aphrodite falls for one of the sons of Ares— the second coming of their parents. 

Warnings:  Mature, 18+, Dry Humping, Semi-Public Relations, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2, 720

It’s stereotypical, you were aware—a whole cliche. But what were you to do when you realized that you were growing attracted to one of the sons of your mother’s past paramours? It did not help that he was the strongest fighter in camp— the most mysterious and illusive Demi-God there. You watch him by the benches whilst you sit and chat with one of the daughters of the Goddess Demeter, Helaena. “You’re staring at him again,” She teased as her fingers twirled the stem of a dandelion whose buds she blew away. You rolled your eyes and shifted your gaze, denying the accusation. “Just speak to him; I’m sure he won’t be as standoffish as he seems.” Helaena hummed, but you shook your head. 

“What are you two talking about?” Aegon, the son of Dionysus, appeared, seemingly intoxicated, even though wine was banned from camp. “No— let me guess,” he quickly said. “I’m guessing… the brooding swordsman? Hm?” He asked you, and you felt color bloom on your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You groaned and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear in frustration. “I do not understand! They… usually fall at my feet, trying to get my attention! But not him,” You complained, making Aegon and Helaena smile in amusement at the expense of your irritation. “Whatever, I’m going for a walk,” You grumbled and stood, trying hard not to let your gaze fly over to Aemond, who trained with a sword. 

You find yourself in the woods, threading closer to the lake where you often stare at your reflection in the water. You took in a deep breath and stared at your face blessed by your mother— the prettiest girl in camp, they say. You attracted all sorts of attention, good and bad, but the only attention you wanted was never bestowed upon you. He denied you of his lone gaze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” You hear a voice ask. You sighed and cast your gaze upward, landing on Jacaerys, son of Hephaestus. “Hello, Jacaerys,” You say politely. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked, dark eyes hopeful. “I… I’d actually prefer to be alone right now,” You reasoned. Watching his face drop. You sigh; if only Aemond were this excited to be in your presence. “Oh,” Jacaerys said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ll see you at dinner, Jace,” You give him a fleeting smile, and you thank the gods that he actually took the hint and left. You returned to stare at yourself, trying to define which aspect you could improve upon, highlighting them in hopes that it would catch the attention of one of the sons of the God of War. 

“What are you doing?” A different voice asked, a reflection joining yours on the surface of the water. You yelped and backed away in surprise. “Gods, Aemond,” You said as he finally cast his eye upon you. “What were you doing?” He asked once again, leading out his hand to assist you to stand. “Staring at myself,” You mumbled, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he caught you. You hear him scoff, “Of course,” He said and let go of your hand that tingled from touching his. “Best you be reminded by the fate of Narcissus,” Aemond stated. You bit back your tongue; this is what you wanted. He was speaking to you— his attention on you, but now it came; why were you frozen as if you had gazed at Medusa? 

“Do you not have to train?” You asked Aemond as you perched yourself upon a log near the river banks. You watch him take a pebble into his fingers, skipping it on the water. “I’ve just finished,” he said and moved to take a seat next to you. You took your lower lip between your teeth as you felt your shoulders brush, the heat of him reaching you. “What do you think we’re doing here?” You suddenly ask as both of you stare off into the orange sun that reflects on the lake. “What do you mean? We’re here to train. We’re here for protection from the outside world.” Aemond stated the obvious, but you shook your head. “Train for what?” You asked, “A war.” 

“Is there one?” Your eyes locked upon his. “I… I just do not understand why I was brought here,” You confessed as you saw the confusion in his lilac orb. “They say the world of mortals was filled with danger— but mine wasn’t. I was living comfortably— I do not understand why my mother had summoned me if I am not to do anything here,” 

“The gods have a purpose in every action they make— even if we do not understand it,” You hummed at his statement. “Do you truly believe that?” Aemond looked at you with a question once more. “I just… feel like we’re pawns being played here— born to do their bidding. We make the sacrifices; they get the glory.  I just think that the minuscule scrap of recognition they throw is not at all  worth it.” You saw a smirk rising to his lips despite the seriousness you posed. “What?” Aemond shakes his head; you feel him inch his way closer to you. “My sister seems to think that you’re filled with air in that pretty little head of yours,” You blinked at his statement; should you be offended or flattered?

“And do you agree?” You ask, fearing for his statement. Aemond hummed, gazing at your face. It was the first time in your life that you felt insecure under someone’s gaze— the first time you felt fear that someone might not think you agreeable and comely. “I agree with her when she said that you were pretty… very pretty,” You bit your cheeks as his eyes flew to your blushed cheeks and then ever so quickly to your lips. “But, no, she was completely mistaken to underestimate you,” You feel your lips twitch, catching Aemond’s attention. You inch towards him, your desires swirling with your assumptions. Aemond stayed rooted where he sat; he did not lean in, nor did he pull away. When your nose brushed, you hear him take in a harsh breath. “We should head back,” he said and pulled away, leaving you confused and overly embarrassed and rejected. 

You were so close— you took the courage to move first. It was all Aemond wanted— all that he had dreamed of. All his offerings to the gods were for this moment, which was why he was greatly disappointed and infuriated with himself when he backed away and left like a coward. It was too much— it was so much more than he could handle. Ever since you’ve arrived at camp, all he did was try and keep your attention on him. He trained day and night, purposefully choosing grounds where you would pass by. He would relish with each moment that he would feel your gaze upon him. Watching intently as he would fight and show off his skill, hoping that it would impress you. Knowing that it was how his father had caught the attention of your mother. 

Aemond’s eye would fly to you during dinner, you sitting with your brothers and sisters. There was no smile on your lips, unlike the previous nights; you sat limply and played with your food, your cheek resting on your palm as a pout formed itself on your luscious lips. What had he done? How could he subject the most beautiful girl his eye has ever seen to such a sullen state? Aemond dug his nails into his palms. You were the daughter of beauty and love, and he was the son of war and strife. He did not deserve anything so precious and delicate as you. He could only offer you ruin and struggle. The thought of bringing you conflict only fortified his decision to back away. To instead protect you from afar— to relinquish his desires to be with you, to hold you, kidding himself that gazing at you was enough. That simply looking at you had to be enough. 

Days passed as both you and Aemond avoided each other. You, embarrassed by your wanting actions and him, controlling himself from giving in to his desires. You no longer watched as he would impressively train with the sword, and he would no longer silently trail you wherever you went. Aemond only picked specific moments to follow you and made certain that no danger would find you— even though the two of you were in the safety of camp where no danger could reach, Aemond was just simply cautious. 

You traded the lake for the beach. Walking alone on the sanded path, the moonlight shining bright atop the water. Your mind consistently loops your foolish actions, making you cringe at yourself. You called for your mother the other night, trying to find guidance or perhaps comfort, as rejection did not sit well with you. The thought of someone not falling for your charms when everyone so easily did, scared you. She ignored your offerings and pleas, leaving you to face your confusion and fears by yourself, only solidifying your beliefs that you and all the children in this camp were simply pawns by the gods. Expected to answer their call when it first rings whilst they constantly ignore yours.

You sighed heavily, staring off into the sea where your mother was born. Stepping foot into the water, you tried to connect with the woman who disrupted your peaceful, mortal life only to bring you here and ignore you. You took deep breaths, walking deeper into the water, not caring that you were still clothed as you submerged yourself in the sea. Aemond watched by the shore, battling with himself if he should follow. When you disappeared under the water, with each passing second, you did not emerge; it only put forth fear in the bravest demi-god in camp. 

Aemond shook his head and ran to the sea, diving to where you disappeared only to catch you resurface, shocked as you realized his presence had joined you. “Aemond,” You breathed out, wiping away the salt water from your eyes, the boy holding your arm, the waves pushing him closer to you. “What… what were you doing?” He asked, concern lacing his deep, silky voice. “I wanted to swim,” You reasoned, hoping that the water would clean you from embarrassment and shame. You feel his eye grow downward, looking at the clothes you fashioned. “In your night dress?” He asked, the silk fabric thin, the cool water clinging to your body. “It was a spontaneous decision,” You mumbled, your gaze shifting away from him as your cheeks heated. The both of you floating in the sea. 

“Why are you here?” you asked, realizing that he had gone in the water, fully clothed as well. You met his eye, the sapphire orb shifting around. His thin, pink lips parted as he tried to find a reason. “I… I—“ You bit your lip, as you had never seen him so flustered. The most fearsome son of Ares is at a loss for words when faced with the prettiest daughter of Aphrodite. 

Aemond stayed silent, only the crashing of waves reaching your ears. It took a while for the both of you to realize that you floated in each other’s arms— the past events of the other day returning to your mind, both making you conscious. “I’m sorry about the other day,” You whispered as you saw it best to address your actions in order for the both of you to forget it and your mind to free you from the torment of your idiotic presumption. “It was wrong for me to assume… I have misread your intentions and made you uncomfortable; I apologize.” You say sincerely. 

You hear Aemond sigh, the waves pushing your bodies closer together, his breath fanning your face, your scent invading his senses. “You did not misread anything,” He admitted. Making your brows furrow. “I… I wanted you to kiss me, wished for it for a while now.” He confessed with a small smile, trying to lighten the tense air with his rare but charming smile. “Oh,” was all you could say as you tried to comprehend his words. “Then why… “ you trailed as you had trouble wording out what had transpired in the lake. Aemond sighed, and you stilled as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, flushing your bodies together as the both of you floated. The moonlight lighted your face, illuminating his silver hair as well as your milky skin. “I got scared,” He admitted, daring to cup your cheek. Your skin was soft against his calloused palm. 

“You? Got scared? The favored son of the god of war got scared by the prospect of a kiss?” You asked in confusion, resting your hands on his shoulders. You hear him let out a small chuckle. “I was only frightened because it was you who I would be kissing,” He stated, caressing your cheek. “The most beautiful girl I was ever blessed to see… now, I hope you’d understand why I panicked,” Aemond smiled as the blush on your cheeks deepened. You set your gaze downward, staring at the water that sparkled under the silver light. Your heart stilled when you felt Aemond place a finger under your chin to raise your gaze once more, finally having the courage to place his lips against yours. 

Aemond wanted to be slow and cautious, to not frighten or pressure you to succumb to all his desires. But as a sigh left your throat when your lips finally met, all restraint he had disappeared. Pulling you impossibly closer to him, making you wrap your legs around him, letting your arms cling to him. Deepening your kiss, his tongue asked for entrance, which you were hesitant to give but relished the feeling when you did. Aemond’s chest rumbled with a sound as you accidentally nipped his lip, enjoying your mistake that only fueled his desires further. 

You pulled away from him, suddenly feeling cautious as the both of you were being so intimate in such an open space where anyone could see. You tried to speak reason, to speak caution that the both of you may be caught, but as Aemond placed his lips on your neck, kissing it and leaving his marks, you no longer had the capacity to speak. Pleasure freezing your mind at the new sensation. Aemond hummed as he heard your heavy breathing, your sweet taste mixing with the salted water as he indulged in the feel of your skin. Aemond closed his eye tightly as you, who had your legs wrapped around his torso started to move your hips. Squirming as you felt urgency for something you were yet to know consuming you. 

Aemond’s hand moved downwards from your waist to your bottom, cupping them and aiding your movements that sought for friction. You let go of a shaky breath against his lips, your eyes looking deeply at his sapphire eye that turned dark and glazed with deeper desires and restraint. “Aemond,” You whimpered, filled with anticipation of what was to come. You ground your hips further, making him utter a foul word and turn his head to the heavens. Aemond moved one hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer to kiss your lips once more. “I… I— Aemond,” was all you could utter as you were uncertain what the sensation was building inside you. It was sharp and urgent and pleasurable— an odd mix. “Are you to come, my pretty girl? Hm?” Aemond gritted as his hips met yours. He bent his head down and placed a kiss atop your chest; his head felt light at the whimpers of his name that your mouth spewed. 

“Aemond!” You shrieked as all finally fell, your body feeling alight as you came at the sensation of riding against the boy you had desired for long. Aemond gritted out your name as he, too, came, spilling himself in his trousers. You hummed as he kissed you again, tasting him and the sea that was witness to your desires and pleasures being fed. 

Sequel: Jealousy, Jealousy

#aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond smut #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond modern au #greek mythology au #aphrodite #daughter of aphrodite #ares #son of ares #pjo #demi god #camp half blood

[shuadotcom]

Good Vibrations | YJH (M)

Summary: You and Jeonghan have been together for a couple of years and share a lot of the same kinks, so when he first mentioned it, it sounded fun….Now it can best be described as the cruelest form of edging he’s ever inflicted on you.

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Fem!Reader

Genres & AUs: Smut, pwp, established relationship au, non!idol au

Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

Warnings: Profanity, car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, use of a sex toy, edging, oral (m. receiving), face-fucking, hair pulling, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, slight degradation in the form of name-calling (slut, whore), pet names (over-usage of princess and angel - I’m not sorry either!!), dom!Jeonghan, sub!reader

Words: 3.4k

Note: Yoon Jeonghan is ruining my life okay 😭 So much so that I wrote this shit in two days which is a crazy record for me. Thank you so much to @the-boy-meets-evil for always being such a wonderful amazing beta ily jess! 💖

Net tag: @kflixnet

“These are cute, what do you think, Y/n?” Jeonghan asks, pointing at the handmade set of chopsticks. You don’t seem to answer in time, because you feel the vibrations running through you get more intense - your breath catching in your throat. “Baby, did you hear me?” His tone is so casual along with the smile on his face. You want to smack him.

After taking a gulp of air, you force your eyes to meet where he’s pointing. “Y-yeah. They’re nice.” 

“Right? We’ll take these, please.” Jeonghan turns back to the woman behind the booth as she happily obliges and starts to wrap up the chopsticks.

This isn’t the first time you and your boyfriend have visited the flea market close to your apartment. Usually, you both are able to find fun knick-knacks and accessories made by the talented people in your town.

This is however the first time you’ve been here with a vibrator shoved inside of you that only Jeonghan can control. 

It was his idea, because of course it was. Apparently, he and his stupid friends had been talking about kinky shit they’ve done with their partners and Joshua mentioned buying his girlfriend vibrating panties. Jeonghan thought that idea was brilliant but instead of panties, he had surprised you with a c-shaped vibrator that not only nestled inside of you but also laid perfectly against your sensitive bundle of nerves so you would get both types of stimulation. You and Jeonghan have been together for a couple of years and share a lot of the same kinks, so when he first mentioned it, it sounded fun. 

That is until he ate you out this morning and then slipped the vibrator inside of you, telling you that he expects you’ll keep it in you all day until he says it’s enough. Now it can best be described as the cruelest form of edging he’s ever inflicted on you. 

As soon as you had stepped out of the car when you arrived, the low hum of the vibrator kicked in, nearly knocking you off of your feet.

“Whoa there, Y/n! You okay?” Jeonghan asked, shooting a cheeky smirk your way. 

“Really, Jeonghan!?” You huffed, standing upright again with his help. Each step you took was less shaky than the last, but you had to make a conscious effort not to walk like a newborn baby deer.

“Remember what I said. Be good for me while we’re out and I’ll give you a reward when we get back home.” His tone was so casual as if he was talking about something nonchalant and not your aching cunt.

Your boyfriend had taken your hand then and waltzed through the entrance of the flea market like any other normal Saturday.

It’s nearly an hour later and Jeonghan is still taking his time, stopping at nearly every stall to take in the items and homemade treats, even striking up conversations with the vendors and asking you for your opinions. Each time, he seems to crank the vibrations up a little more on the dangerous device in you.

At some point, he pulls you to a picnic table outside of a tteokbokki vendor and orders a small plate to share with you. 

“Say ‘ah’, angel.” Jeonghan holds a skewer of spicy rice cake up to your mouth, waiting for you to open.

“Jeonghan can we ple-ahh!” Your objection falls short as more intensity hits you, Jeonghan blatantly increasing the speed in front of you. Your nails dig into the plastic of the picnic table, fighting off the impending orgasm.

With a comically large pout, you wordlessly open your mouth, Jeonghan simply beaming back at you and feeding you. He chatters on about how good the weather is and how excited he is to wear the new shirt he just picked up from a couple that makes fun graphic t-shirts.

You love your boyfriend so much - you really do - but right now you want to shove a whole skewer down his throat for the torture you’re experiencing. 

After what feels like hours (when in reality it was only less than ten minutes), you and Jeonghan finish eating and he practically drags you to a boba stall. He already knows what you want, which you’re thankful for because you’re afraid that if you let out any sound, it’ll be nothing but a pathetic moan of his name.

Jeonghan leaves you standing under a nearby tree as the sun gets a little warmer on your skin while he orders for the both of you and casts a look over his shoulder at one point. When your eyes meet you get weak in the knees all over again. His smolder is unmistakable from underneath his bangs, his pretty pink lips quirking up as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. He bites his bottom lip as he practically eye fucks you in broad daylight, any semblance of sanity you have left finally leaving you.

Seemingly satisfied with making you suffer more, he turns away as he thanks the vendor and comes to meet you with your drinks.

“Here you go, princess,” his tone is chipper, a jarring contrast from the way he had just looked at you.

Your hands shake as you take the boba from him, not even attempting to take a drink. You’re so far gone that even his pet names are pushing you close to the edge.

“Jeonghan, honey please.”

“Hmm?” He tilts his head to the side as he sips from his straw without a care in the world.

“Can we please go now? I can’t handle this anymore.” Your words are shaky as you plead with him. Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, studying your face and observing how even standing still you’re trembling in front of him and notices the wet shine in your eyes.

He leans forward, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Okay, princess. Let’s get you home so I can fill up your needy little cunt.” His dirty words have a small whimper leaving your mouth and he has to reach out quickly to steady you as you sway in place.

Lacing his fingers through yours, Jeonghan leads you through the crowd, still going casually he takes a last look at the stalls and items in the market. He’s nice enough to help you into the car when you arrive and even leans over you to buckle your seatbelt, placing a kiss on your forehead before shutting your door. You watch him in the side mirror put his tote bag in the trunk then walk around to get into the driver’s seat.

“You know, you were so good today, princess.” Is the first thing he says as he’s pulling onto the busy street. His hand moves to cover your denim-clad thigh, the small touch making you jolt in your seat. Jeonghan only laughs at you, casting a side-eye glance your way.

“It was so hard,” you sniff, hyper-aware of how warm and how long his fingers are as they draw circles on you.

“I know, baby. But once we’re home it’ll all pay off. I promise you won’t be able to walk for the rest of the day.” He smiles sweetly at you, a choked exhale leaving your mouth at the image of Jeonghan folding you in half in your bed. You know he means it and that only makes you clench your thighs together for the nth time today. “I can see you like that idea.” He squeezes your thigh, his skin feeling red hot to you through the fabric. “Look at you. Pressing your thighs together like a horny little slut.”

“Jeonghan…” He can’t talk to you like this - not in the state you’re in.

“I wonder…is my angel so desperate that she needs to cum now?”

“Mmhmm, please Hannie, I need it! Can I?” You blurt out, not caring how pathetic you sound. It’s how you feel after all of his agonizing teasing. 

“Do it then.” He says suddenly, turning to watch your reaction as he stops at a red light, a mischievous grin forming. In the next moment, he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and the toy inside you is cranked up without warning. Your body jerks in your seat, a scream ripping from your throat as your body involuntarily does as he commands. Tears prick your eyes when you finally get to cum, your panties and jeans adequately ruined as you can feel how much you cum in them.

All you can do is pant as you come down and Jeonghan is at least kind enough to lower the vibrations. Through droopy eyelids, you watch as Jeonghan quickly pulls into the parking lot of a park, stopping the car under a low-hanging tree in the corner of the lot.

When you turn to look at him again, his hand grabs your chin, bringing his mouth to yours. Your lips move together effortlessly, Jeonghan’s tongue prodding at your lips, demanding access. As soon as your lips part, his tongue moves in to claim yours, sucking it loudly into his mouth. You whine in response, your hands coming up to tangle in his dark locks, tugging on the strands as he continues wrapping his tongue around yours, nearly devouring you whole.

Jeonghan pulls away first and moves to kiss your neck as you catch your breath.

“How was that? Does my angel need more?” He mumbles against your skin.

“Yes, please!” You nod feverishly, gasping as he bites down, leaving a mark at the base of your neck.

“But do you deserve more?”

“I do! I’ve been good all day, Hannie! You said!”

“Hmmm,” he hums. “I suppose, but you have to earn it.”

“Anything!” You rush out, head lolling back as he nips at another sensitive spot on your neck.

“Do a good job sucking my dick and I’ll think about it.”

With a last bite at you, Jeonghan pulls away and you watch, wide-eyed as he undoes his belt and unzips his jeans until he has enough room to pull out his length, his hard cock springing out and hitting his t-shirt-covered stomach.

You get to work immediately, hands darting out to pump him a few times. Jeonghan lets out a hiss when your tongue laps at the tip, collecting the beads of salty precum that seep from the slit. One of your hands grips the base of his dick, pumping it a few times as you suckle on his cockhead.

“Fuck, angel, no teasing.” He turns the vibrator back up after his warning and you moan lewdly around him. Breathing out of your nose, you sink onto his length slowly, taking in as much of him as you can. Your hand and mouth work together, your tongue swirling around him as you suck him down. 

Slurping sounds fill the car mixed with the loud, breathy moans Jeonghan huffs out above you. Your head bobs frantically, sucking and squeezing him in all the ways that you know he likes. His long fingers tangle in your hair, gripping at the roots to push you down further. You can’t help but choke as he hits the back of your throat suddenly, but you don’t pull away - you know how much he loves to leave you choking on his dick.

“Shit, look at you, taking me so far down your slutty little throat. You’re so good for me, you know that?” Jeonghan’s praises always spur you on, the desire to make him feel good taking priority because you know he’ll always return the gesture tenfold. 

You attempt to nod, swallowing around him, driving Jeonghan even crazier. He thrusts up shallowly, beginning to languidly fuck your mouth. 

His hold on your hair stays tight, the feeling of his nails digging into your scalp burning along with the ache in your jaw, but you stay where you are, gagging around his cock. You reach down to cup his balls, rolling them around in your palm which draws a deep whine from his throat.

Jeonghan scrambles in his pocket for the remote to the vibrator, turning it higher. You manage a wet, garbled squeal around his length, your eyes crossing as you feel your orgasm approaching faster than the speed of light.

“Gonna cum again, princess? Gonna get that pussy slick and sticky for me?”

“Mmph!” You breathe loudly out of your nose. Your eyes screw shut as Jeonghan thrusts into your mouth rougher, now holding your head completely still as he uses your throat as a fleshlight. The tension in your belly finally snaps, shockwaves rushing through you as you cum with an incoherent attempt to yell Jeonghan’s name. 

Your loud gasp rings out through the car as he yanks you off of him by your hair. You greedily gulp air into your lungs, body shaking as you continue to ride your orgasm out.

“Is my princess doing alright?” Jeonghan checks, his fingers lightly massaging your scalp.

“Y-yes,” you stutter out. 

“Perfect. Come here.” Jeonghan places a kiss on your lips and helps you wiggle out of your jeans and underwear, leaving them on the floor of the passenger seat. He manages to climb into the backseat of the car, helping you over the seats after him and maneuvering your tired body into his lap. Jeonghan reaches between your wet thighs, easing the vibrator out of you, shushing you as you groan at the loss. He tosses it into the passenger seat and helps you lift just enough for him to begin slipping his cock into you.

“Jeonghan!” You cry out as he stretches your walls. Even after cumming numerous times today and being filled with something all day, he still manages to feel heavy and impossibly thick. Your walls greedily suck him in, inch by inch, the sensation alone already making you lose yourself even more in everything that is Jeonghan.

“I know, princess. You’re so fucking tight, but fuck just like that.” His long fingers grip you, easing you into his lap until his dick is buried in you completely.

The two of you share a moan, taking a few seconds to adjust. 

“Hannie…can I move please?” You whimper first, your oversensitivity ebbing away as overwhelming pleasure quickly replaces it. 

“You wanna ride my dick, huh angel?” 

“Yes, please Hannie,” you’re whining for him now, hips trembling at the dire need to get fucked.

“My slutty baby is so desperate for me,” Jeonghan purrs, trailing his hands around your hips to grab a handful of your ass. “Ride me, princess. Make me cum in your messy little cunt.”

Jeonghan’s dirty words set your skin on fire, and you do what he says. You plant your hands on his shoulders and your knees on either side of him for better leverage and begin bouncing in his lap with as much energy as you can muster. He keeps one hand anchored to your hips, helping you with each thrust and his other hand reaches up under your shirt and bra to roughly knead at your breast.

“Hannie…” His name is long and drawn out, egging on his eager hands to begin pinching your sensitive nipples. 

“That’s right, princess. Who’s cock makes you feel so fucking full and good?” His words are steady, even as he starts to buck upwards, meeting your hips every time you drop down. 

“Yours!”

“Fuck yeah. And this pussy is all mine,” he punctuates each of his words with a thrust, quickly jolting you up and down almost faster than you can keep up with. 

The car rocks as he fucks into you, the air hot and stuffy and full of desperation from both of you. Sweat beads at your hairline as you ride Jeonghan and you manage to wrench your eyes open to look at him. 

His dark hair sticks to his face, his forehead glistening with sweat much like yours, but fuck he looks as beautiful as always. His plump bottom lip is between his teeth as his brown eyes, half-lidded and full of desire stare back at you. A playful smirk graces his features and your heart immediately skips a beat.

Even when he’s teasing you mercilessly and talking to you in the filthiest ways, he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Gonna hurry and cum for me, princess?”

“Yes, Hannie, yes, fuck!”

“Better hurry up. I don’t know how long we have until someone notices our car sitting here. They’ll all hear you crying for me like a whore.” This isn’t the first time Jeonghan’s fucked you stupid in his car, but it’s the first time he’s done it during the day when anyone could walk by and easily see your silhouette on top of him through the tinted windows. The idea scares you while simultaneously exciting you.

Jeonghan adjusts his hips a little, the slight angle change having his cockhead brush your g-spot just right, making your toes curl and anything that isn’t Jeonghan cumming inside of you vanishes from your mind. 

“Fuck, Jeonghan, yes, yes, yes!” You babble out. You need to cum again so fucking bad - your fourth orgasm of the day so close you can practically taste it. You continue to meet each of his powerful thrusts, your hips burning, but you ignore it, getting closer, closer, closer.

Jeonghan’s right hand snakes between the two of you. His nimble fingers expertly find your swollen clit and rub at it, rolling it between his perfect fingers.

“Shit, baby, I’m so close - so fucking close. Be a good girl and cum with me.” Jeonghan doesn’t give you a chance to answer and instead buries his left hand in your hair and yanks you forward to crash your lips together. The kiss is all teeth, tongue, and spit. It’s messy and needy, capturing your shared lust. 

“Hannie!” You gasp between kisses. “Can I?!” You barely get the words out as he mutters a ‘yes’ against your lips, allowing you to let go. The sound of your blood rushing to your head fills your ears as you hold your breath and your orgasm hits you like a bus.

“Yes, yes squeeze me just like that, angel! Fuck!” Jeonghan throws his head back as he cums, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest as he paints your walls, your name on his tongue as he does.

You sag against him, your forehead resting on his shoulder. You feel Jeonghan’s fingers rubbing circles on your back while you both steady your breathing. 

“I love you, Hannie,” you say, your hands wrapping around his torso to pull him closer into a proper hug.

“I love you too, Y/n.” He reciprocates the embrace, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“We should probably get going,” you whisper as another minute ticks by. You didn’t want to separate but it would only be a matter of time before someone nosey happened by.

“Yeah, we should.” Neither of you moves at first after he agrees, but your hips are starting to ache so you begrudgingly sit upright. Jeonghan’s hands hold your waist as he helps you slowly lift yourself until his softening cock slips out.

Flopping onto the seat next to him, you lazily readjust your bra and shirt as he tucks himself back into his jeans and fixes his hair. He helps you move back into the front seat and you wrestle with getting your jeans back on as he climbs into the driver's seat and takes a sip of his now-warm boba.

Once back on the road you reach out to grab at his hand resting on the center console. He gives your hand a squeeze in return, threading his fingers with yours.

“Can we get food on the way home?” You ask, suddenly noticing how hungry you are.

Jeonghan snickers, giving you a look before focusing on the road again.

“All your energy is gone from cumming so much, huh?”

“Stop!” You pretend to be scandalized, smacking the back of his hand. “But yes, actually!”

Jeonghan brings your hand to his lips, placing a light kiss on the back of it.

“Yeah okay, we’ll grab something. You’ll need to regain your strength anyway.” You blink at him, your boyfriend chuckling at your silence. “Did you forget what I said already? I told you that you wouldn’t be able to walk for the rest of the day, didn’t I? I’m not done fucking you, princess.” Heat spreads across your neck and up to your face. Fuck, he did say that earlier, didn’t he? Yoon Jeonghan was truly going to be the end of you. “Now what would you like to eat, my love?”

#kflixnet #wkcnet #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fic #jeonghan fanfic #svt smut #svt fic #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #jeonghan #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #jeonghan svt

[cissyenthusiast010155]

hey!! i was wondering if you could write a oneshot of larissa or melissa (whatever you think is best) where badicslly r and them literally despise eachother bc they got started off on the wrong foot and every interaction between them has just gone south, but r and larissa or mel find eachother extremely attractive, and then basically someone in the school told them that r is actually in love with them. and basically after that they get into another heated argument and they pull out the “it’s not my fault you’re in love with me” or something along those lines and r denies it ofc and then after that they like kiss n maybe some angry smut if you’re alright with that.

so sorry if this is too specific or you just don’t wanna write it lmfao 😭 TYSM!!

- 🪼

It Ain’t My Fault ~Dom!Melissa Schemmenti xFem Sub!Reader

Summary— Enemies to Lovers AU, where Melissa and Reader have never gotten along. The tension between them finally snaps… What will happen…? Anon Response— Thank you for the detailed request, anon!! I hope this finds you well. I had fun writing this little smut piece for you. Hope you Enjoy! ♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fingering, eating out, semi-public sex, enemies to lovers, fighting, love confessions, screaming/yelling, dominance, light dom/sub implications, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Well It’s not my fault you’re in love with me—!!” Melissa shrieked.

Her classroom suddenly felt too hot and far too cramped, even though it was only the two of you. Your breath hitched and you stepped back slightly.

The two of you had been known to get into yelling matches, and the staff was quick to banish the two of you from the lounge if you felt like going at it. You didn’t even remember what this fight was originally about. You just didn’t get along. Never had. Ever since you had arrived at Abbott, Melissa always undermined you. It drove you insane, how she got under your skin. For Melissa, she could stand you either. You were just so annoying. So young and naive, so quick to disregard and disrespect authority. Neither of you would ever want to admit that you found the other attractive.

“Excuse me…??” You finally spat, coming back to reality from the brief stun.

“You heard me…!” She cocked, placing her hands on her hips and swiveling her head tauntingly.

“I am not in love with you—!” You exclaimed defensively, crossing your arms.

Melissa grinned wickedly and sauntered up towards you. You instinctually began to back up until the back of your legs hit the edge of her desk. Your breath hitched again as the older woman now stood right in front of you.

“Barb says otherwise, and Barb is always right.” She purred condescendingly, tilted her head slightly and staring you down.

Your eyes widened and you gulped. You uncross your arms and lean back a little on the desk, trying to get away from her intense presence.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” you stammer.

“Fine, then prove it.” She quips, cocking her brow at you.

A challenge is something you can do.

“Ok, try me.” You immediately shoot back.

Melissa smirks and steps just a bit closer, so that her body is almost flush against you but not quite yet.

“Kiss me.”

You nearly choke on your own air, as your face flushes a deep red.

“I… sorry what..??” You choke out.

“Kiss me.” Melissa repeats as if it’s nothing, with a shrug, “Just once.”

“And what’s that going to prove…??” You defensively shot.

She raised her brow.

“You chicken?”

You immediately growled at her words. If there was anything you hated, it was being called incompetent and a coward. And Melissa loved to taunt you with both.

“Shut up.” You growled, before grabbing the back of her neck with one hand and smashing your lips together.

Melissa immediately groaned into the kiss. You really thought that you’d be able to prove your lack of love with this, but you were so wrong. The second you felt her lips, you were hooked. The kiss went from a peck to a sloppy mess in a matter of seconds, and neither one of you minded. You let out a breathy moan as her tongue slid into your mouth.

Her hands snaked around your sides, effectively pinning you to her desk. Yours held the back of her neck, as the other slid to her ass, pulling her flush against you while graciously squeezing her rear. This action made Melissa groan into the kiss once more, which only sent increasing sparks of arousal throughout your body.

After a minute, you both had to pull away, breathless. But the woman still kept you pinned to the edge of the desk by your hips. Her hold on you was bruising and dizzying, as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Melissa looked quite pleased with herself for having kissed you breathless.

When you finally met her eye, you knew she had won. The dark flicker of lustful dominance was something you couldn’t help but fold to. You allowed the woman the hoist you up on the edge of her desk, you allowed her mouth to wander along your exposed skin. You allowed her to take your tits and cunt out, to call you deliciously derogatory names as she sucked and bit at your nipples. You allowed her to shove her fingers into your mouth as a way to keep you quiet as she sucked on your pearl and explored your juicy folds. You allowed her to completely take control. And in return, she allowed you to cum.

~~~

Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist

#Melissa Schemmenti x reader smut #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #Melissa Schemmenti smut #melissa schemmenti #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers trope #enemies to lovers troupe #abbott elementary #abbott elementary season 3 #abbott elementary s3 #abbott elementary x reader #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fic #abott elementary #abbot elementary #Abbott elementary smut #lisa ann walter #angry sex #hate fucking #love confessions #confessions #cissyenthusiast010155 answers

[jo-harrington]

Longevity (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Longevity (noun) - continuance; durability; permanence

Previous Part: Standard Operating Procedures 1.06

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. (For now.) Fluff, a little angst, discussions of the future, vignettes/time jumps, smut, HEA.

Note: Alright here it is, and it is a HONKING CHAPTER. But how could I break it up into pieces when it's The End? I'm tucking my little babies into the dollhouse and closing it up so they can live on the rest of their lives. To Eddie and Store Manager, I love you both dearly and you were the thing that brought me back to writing and into a wonderful community of writers and readers. To everyone reading, thank you so much for your endless support. You will never know how much it's appreciated.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing. Seriously, go read it.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

April 1986

"Ope, if it isn't the man of the hour, Mr. Edward G. Robinson himself. We were just talking about you."

That was the greeting that found Eddie as he walked into Claire's after school on a lovely Thursday afternoon, ready to share some good news before his closing shift.

Great news, actually, if he was being honest. Life-changing news that he was sure would earn him a ton of kisses that he'd been craving after a long week of assignments and standardized tests.

Imagine his surprise then, that instead of finding you and Mindy behind the counter, chatting after a supposed "big visit" you'd told him that you had today, you still had company.

He skidded to a halt at the sight. Your guest smiled up at him with her hands on her hips.

Short in stature, blonde hair in pristine victory rolls, bold makeup that consisted of layers of glittery eyeshadow, and wrists adorned with stacks of multicolored scrunchies.

"It's nice to see you again Jen," he greeted your old Store Manager.

He'd only met her in person once, but had heard countless fond and semi-unbelievable stories about her from you--and apparently she'd heard the same about him, having greeted him with a bone-crushing hug the first time they met—so there was a familiarity and fondness there that they both indulged.

"What are you doing here?" he asked casually and crossed the distance to throw an arm over your shoulder and press a kiss to your temple. "I thought you said that you wouldn't be caught dead in Indiana."

You, Mindy, and Jen all broke out in a fit of giggles and Eddie felt a sudden sense of instinctual dread.

"Well then get ready to start planning my funeral kid," Jen announced. "Because you're about to start seeing a lot more of me."

"Jen just got promoted," you interjected finally.

"Oh yeah?"

"To District Manager. So she's gonna be my boss. Again."

"Oh, shi--shoot," Eddie felt like he'd been doused with cold water at the revelation. He peeled his arm from around your shoulder and took a wide step to put distance between the two of you. "That's...wow. Congratulations."

He'd been through a handful of DM visits at TapeWorld, never on his own, always under Kyle's cool guidance; however, he'd come to realize that the stiff authority figure of his District Manager Jeff was something to be feared.

So even though he was excited for Jen--your friend--on her promotion, the sudden realization that Jen--your boss--was standing here watching him make an idiot out of himself and possibly put your job at risk...

"Oh my god," Jen broke down in a fit of laughter. "Look at him, he's about to shit himself. Take a chill pill Ed, Jesus. I’m not gonna be a hardass until next week. If that.”

Once everyone had their fill of laughter, and Jen promised that she wasn't going to hold your relationship over your head--

"So long as you're not in here interfering with the business or making out on the sales floor or something."

--Eddie pulled you to the side and finally revealed his big news.

"So," he began excitedly. "It, uh, looks like I'm on the road to graduation. Like really graduating. Not just 'if I don't fuck it up in the home stretch' this time. I'm actually gonna graduate."

"Oh my god," you grabbed him by his jacket and shook him as joy bubbled in his chest from your reaction. "Eddie that's amazing!"

You asked him a few questions and your eyes sparkled proudly as he recounted his talk with his guidance counselor, and he couldn't help the smile that stayed on his face the entire time. Especially when you let out a shriek of joy and jumped around.

"We need to go and celebrate!" you insisted.

"I mean," he suddenly got bashful. "I haven't graduated yet."

"Still, it's big. You worked so hard." You looked back over at Jen and Mindy who were talking at the cash wrap. "I know you're closing tonight but I'm taking Jen out for drinks a little later. When you get out of work, meet us at the Hideaway. I'll get you the Wayne and a beer. And then afterwards, uh...if you wanna come back to my place? Like...actually celebrate?”

He grinned and nodded eagerly; you'd taken the words right out of his mouth.

---

His shift had gone by quickly and he’d joined you and Jen at the Hideaway with Kyle in tow. Kyle who was not only proud of Eddie and wanted to treat him to a beer for his efforts, but also intrigued at the possibility of schmoozing a pretty new face in town.

“Sometimes,” he announced with a flourish when he returned to StarCourt right before store close, dressed in the nicest clothes Eddie had ever seen him wear. “You need to take a chance. How many times did I tell you that kid? You miss all the chances you don’t take. That’s why it took you so long to get a girlfriend.”

Jen, unfortunately, laughed right in Kyle’s face when he kissed her hand upon introduction.

“I’m engaged, Romeo,” she informed him. “Sorry.”

“I don’t see a ring. You can let me down Jenny. Tell me the truth, I won’t be hurt.”

“You’re sweet. But it’s the truth. I just don’t wear the ring to work.”

“Alright, alright,” He sighed, then got a sly look. “Any chance you have a sister? Or a brother? I’m an equal opportunity man looking for true love.”

The night was filled with hearty food, rounds of beer, fantastical stories of retail hell and 4th Quarters past, and accomplishments on everyone’s part.

Kyle bragged about a new car he had just put a down payment on.

Your store had hit some Diamond Earring milestone that only you and Jen seemed to understand but the excitement was contagious.

Eddie got a round of applause from the table when you urged him to announce his big news to everyone.

Honestly he couldn’t care about Kyle or Jen’s reaction, it was seeing you look at him with all the pride and affection in the world that he basked in. He couldn’t wait for the actual graduation ceremony, for you to be front and center with Wayne and Rick and all of his friends. There to witness his hard work come to fruition…and for him to flip Principal Higgins off.

And then Jen stood up and announced her own accomplishment right before last call.

“So,” she cleared her throat and held up her glass and pulled something out of her coat. “I know I already celebrated back home and I don’t really know either of you, Kyle and Ed, but I know my little protégée here would be happy for me.

”Alongside my wonderful and well-earned promotion to DM, I also received my Longevity pin.”

She opened a little velvet jewelry box and showed off a tiny glittering purple pin with a tiny little diamond chip in place of the dot of the “I” in Claire’s.

“Ten long years,” Jen announced after a swig of her beer, “with the Purple Glitter Factory. And all I have to show for it is a pin, a little more money, and a lot more responsibility. God. Growing up sucks. But I’m very proud. And you’re next kid.”

She laid a hand on your head and you waved her off with visible embarrassment then disappeared to go and close out your tabs.

Later that night as you and Eddie settled into bed to sleep after some celebratory activities, Eddie laid awake and stared at the ceiling. Thinking.

“What are your plans for the future?” He asked after a beat.

“Uh,” you shifted your head on his shoulder so you could look at him. “Is this because of all of Jen’s talk of careers and stuff?”

“Yeah. And graduation. And all of that stuff. So? What do you wanna do…where do you wanna be…when you’re older?”

“God, I dunno. I got my associates in business because I was hoping it would help me get my own store. And I did. It also was so boring, I don’t want to go back to school. I guess the next thing is…actually take a vacation day now that I’m earning them. What about you?”

“Music legend,” he answered immediately.

“Uh huh.”

“Guess that’s gonna take some work though, huh?”

“No shit.” You rolled your eyes and then sighed as you settled against him once again. “There’s a reason you asked, Ed. What’s going on in that big head of yours?”

He ran his tongue along the seam of his lips repeatedly as he considered…everything that was laid out in front of him.

Corroded Coffin.

Tape World.

What about Hellfire? Damn, he knew Dustin and Will were the future of the club but…a few years down the line. What about next year? He was gonna have to pass the torch to Gare or Dave after he left. They weren’t ready yet.

And what was he gonna do after school was over? Could he see himself taking a class at TCCC? Maybe. Jeff had been showing him the Catalog at lunch the other day. There was a Creative Writing course that looked cool.

10 years.

That was half his life away. Impossible to imagine. Would there be flying cars by then? Space travel? He could enlist in Starfleet, meet Captain Kirk. Ok maybe that last one was stupid.

"10 years,” Eddie whispered into the top of your head as he rid himself of the fantastical thoughts. “That’s an awful long time.”

“Well it’s a good thing we have all that time to figure it out.”

We…

“Yeah. Yeah we do.”

He could only hope you’d still be there with him. One way or another.

---

July 1987

The spot lights were blinding and the air thick with humidity; his throat was dry and his fingers ached from how hard he was on the fretboard.

But the crowd was cheering and that’s all that mattered right?

No, what really mattered was the music.

And the band.

That's why he was up here with his friends, demolishing the bridge of The Sentinel, laughing and jumping and barely giving a shit when he missed a note or Jeff’s fingers fumbled or Gareth lost the beat for a second. He didn't even mind that the County Clerk had them censor out the "cuss words" of the songs they'd chosen.

It was exhilarating just to be able to play on an actual stage.

It had taken 2 years but they were finally playing at the Roane County 4th of July Festival. An actual gig. And not the first one they'd played, but certainly the biggest so far. Big enough and successful enough that Eddie expected it to be a standing gig for the foreseeable future.

The Polka Band from Kenosha hadn't gotten nearly half as many people and they were, by far, the most successful act of the night before Corroded Coffin.

There was a sea of friends, neighbors, families, and out-of-towners just below the stage, snacks and drinks in-hand, as they danced and jumped and headbanged to song after song. Rick and Wayne were out at Benny's getting all set up for the next stop on Corroded Coffin's "Independence Day Tour" but you were out there in the crowd with Mindy and her family, singing along and cheering louder than everyone whenever a song ended.

Which was why Eddie didn't hesitate to dedicate the final song of the set to you.

"This next one isn't our usual sound," he spoke into the microphone, words a little muffled as his lips brushed against it. "It's a little slow. Something you can dance to, so gentlemen please grab your ladies, tell them how much you love them. But before we begin...did you all know...it's almost Back to School time."

There was a series of boo's from the crowd.

"Now now, maybe yet not for you all, but definitely for a special someone out there," he shushed them and traded Sweetheart for his mom's old acoustic guitar. He plucked a few notes and then continued. "A special someone...who leaves me all alone every once in a while. Late nights. Lonely nights while I wait by the phone, as she and her team make magic happen and she forgets all about me. See I'm saying all of this because she's about to leave me high and dry this coming Sunday night, so I have to guilt her a little otherwise she won't let me surprise her with hash browns and coffee when she gets out of work.

"Queen of Glitter Kingdom," Eddie squinted and looked around the crowd until he found you standing there holding your hand over Mindy's mouth as she looked like she was about to cry. He pointed right at you. "My life, my world, my cheeseburger. This one's for you."

He and Jeff then began to harmonize their guitars for the opening of Beth.

---

"You're a shithead, you know that."

"Mmm...but I'm your shithead, sweetheart."

It was late. Wayne, Rick, and the guys had all left. You and Eddie were sitting across from each other in a booth at Benny's, as the last few fair-goers trickled in for a late night snack. Your own dinner sat half-eaten on the table between you--patty melts and an apple pie shake to share--as you talked and laughed and played footsie.

He and the boys needed to rush across town after their set was over so they made it in time for Ben's advertised happy hour, so he hadn't gotten the chance to get an earful or a kiss from you after his little spectacle.

Fortunately, you were giving him hell for it now, and although he was wiped, he gladly accepted your teasing wrath.

"Is Wayne still around?" You turned in your seat and looked at the sparse group of customers. "I'd like to make a return."

"Mmm...well I moved out in January so I think it's after the 90-day return policy," he said matter-of-factly.

"God damn it," you laughed and snapped your fingers. "And I think I lost the receipt too."

"Stuck with me forever," he teased in a sing-song. There was a beat and he straightened up in his seat and drummed a rhythm on the table with his knuckles. "So...I think it went well."

"I think so too," you agreed brightly.

"You know, Jeff found some...Septemberfest thing out in Jasper..."

Your eyes sparkled at Eddie's words, and he felt the flutter of butterflies deep inside of him that always kicked up when you gave him your excitement and encouragement.

“It’s not a competition or anything but there’s a prize for most popular act of the weekend. Audience ballot and everything. I think it would be cool.”

"That's great!" you grinned. "You should go for it."

"But it's Labor Day weekend."

"So?"

"Paulie's going for a promotion," he shrugged. "Kyle's gonna want us all there in case Jeff comes for a visit."

"And? I didn't know Paulie was planning on opening for Corroded Coffin. What's he playing? The kazoo?" you joked.

"Well no," Eddie shook his head. "But if he leaves...I mean, I'm the best bet for FTASM. I don't want to lose out on that for the future. That'd be...the money would be nice. Can do some repairs on the van. Maybe I'd get my own store someday too."

Your face crumpled--brows furrowed and lips pursed--and you didn't hesitate to shuffle out from your side of the booth and kneel beside him on his. You placed a hand on his forehead for a moment and then tilted his head back and forth.

"Uh, sweetheart," he placed a hand on your waist to steady you as you shuffled closer to pull the back the neck of his t-shirt to look for something. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to see if my Rockstar Eddie Munson action figure is broken," you explained.

"Uhhh."

"Or at least if I accidentally left him at the fair and picked up a Corporate Shill Eddie action figure instead?"

"What?" he laughed.

"How about Suburban Dad Eddie?" you asked. You straightened your posture, pulled on non-existent suspenders, and lowered your voice comedically. "Gotta prepare for tax season. Cut the grass. Do some repairs on the van."

"Stop," he pulled you down to sit beside him in the booth. "I just...don't wanna take the chance on that when I know the full time position is a sure thing."

"Ed," you shook your head at him. "I know you like Tape World but...promotions always come around, music is your dream."

"I know."

"Why did you tell me about this Septemberfest thing if you were not gonna go through with it anyway?"

"I dunno," he turned away from you and went to grab the shake. "I guess I just wanted to pick the thing...that you'd be most proud of."

"Listen here mister," you grabbed him by the chin and made him look at you, Apple Pie Shake be damned. "I'm always gonna be proud of you and support you in whatever path you want."

He nodded for a second and then stole a kiss from you with a soft "I know, thank you." You let yourself get lost in the feeling for a second, but Eddie knew that you weren't gonna let him distract you from the discussion at hand.

You put a hand on his chest and pushed him away, then stared him directly in the eye.

"So?" you asked. "What kind of future do you want?"

His eyes darted between yours--your gaze hard and challenging but nonetheless filled with hope and affection--and he had his answer.

---

May 1989

You could feel Eddie fidget in the seat beside you.

"Calm down," you muttered to him.

"Can't help it," he whispered back; you could tell he straightened out his posture, but his knee still bounced. "Too excited."

A name was called over the loudspeaker, then another, then another.

"Eddie seriously," Gareth was the one to give it a shot this time, leaning across you to put a hand on Eddie's knee and get him to stop fidgeting. "You're gonna shit yourself if you don't stop."

"Shit, sorry, this is only like..." he shook his head. "The most important thing I've ever done in my life."

You, Gareth, Jeff, and Dave all shot him skeptical and unamused looks.

"I don't have time to argue right now," he scoffed at the rest of you. "Shut up, here it comes."

"Peter Halliwell...Dustin Henderson..."

All five of you jumped to your feet and cheered and clapped, along with another group a few rows up that consisted of Dustin's mom, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and their respective partners.

It was a repeat occurrence several times over that afternoon, as you witnessed the Hawkins High Class of '89 cross the stage and receive their diplomas.

"That's my kid," Eddie wiped a fake tear as each of his former Freshman Sheepies were called on stage, but he was especially emotional with Dustin. And when the newest DM of Hellfire flipped Higgins off before running off stage? Eddie stood on his chair and whooped and whistled. “That’s my boy!”

“Sit down Munson,” Higgins spoke into the microphone, over an audience that had become uproarious with laughter.

“It’s tradition now, Higgy,” Eddie shouted, words amplified by the hands he’d cupped around his mouth; still, he jumped down and took his seat so the rest of the ceremony could continue.

“You’re unbelievable,” you giggled at his antics. “You do know that right?”

“I’m unbelievably loveable,” he replied, quickly accompanied by the scoffs and mocking fart noises of his friends. He leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “Unbelievably in love with you.”

“Uh huh.” His tongue snaked out and he licked into your ear obnoxiously. “Fuck off!” You pushed him away from you with a shrieking laugh.

It wasn’t long before that the real reason you were in attendance at the graduation walked across the stage. Because yes, the kids were your friends but you wouldn’t miss this for the world.

“Jane Hopper,” came the announcement and you, once again, got to your feet with a cheer, along with her family and friends in the next aisle of seats. Chief Hopper had his camcorder out and his shoulders visibly shook as he sobbed for his daughter, and you couldn’t help but feel your heartstrings pull.

If Dustin and the boys were Eddie’s little sheepies, you supposed Janey was one of yours. From a shy girl whose ears you’d pierced for the first time in your early days at StarCourt, to one of your die hard regulars who looked up to you over the years trying to emulate your style, to one of your associates when she came in for her first summer job at 16; you’d watched Jane grow and gain confidence and really come into her own.

That was the high point of your career as a Store Manager, and something you happily shared with Eddie: seeing the kids you took under your wing flourish.

“All the birds have flown the coop Mom,” Eddie teased as you sat down and actually wiped a tear from your cheek.

“I think you guys can cut the Mom and Dad bit now,” Jeff said matter-of-factly. “Until you guys have your own kids someday.”

That was something you and Eddie happily shared too.

The two of you looked at each other for a moment…before making the most exaggerated vomiting and gagging noises, unfortunately getting looks from the people around you.

“Pass,” you and Eddie announced in tandem.

---

After the ceremony was over, Chief Hopper invited everyone to the shared Hopper-Byers abode for a barbecue. And by everyone, it seemed like he literally invited the entire town to the lakeside cabin the family called home.

All of the kids and their friends and families, Benny was somehow there—had he closed the diner for the day? Good, he deserved a day off—a handful of Hop’s coworkers and friends, including Wayne and Rick.

There were hamburgers and beers, conversation and music overlapping one another.

Eddie was in his element though, and it warmed your heart to see him talk and spiel and be accepted by such a big group when, not so long ago, it seemed like he’d been shunned by them. Even now, you could see some hesitation as he stiffly talked with douchebag Callahan and Mike’s asshole dad, but he wasn’t sweating bullets or falling back on the pricklier parts of his personality. He even cracked a smile once or twice.

What would his life had been like if he’d had this all along?

It was silly to think about after you’d been dating for years but…would he have asked you out sooner? Would you even still be together now? You thought about the ways that the kids had grown into their own…but it wasn’t hard to also appreciate how much the two of you had grown side by side as well.

Especially when you considered the next step you were about to embark on together...

“You’re thinking too loud,” Eddie startled you as he snuck up behind you and dangled a fresh beer in your face. You shot him a scathing look but he easily recovered, back into your good graces, as he swooped an arm around your shoulder and pecked a kiss to your temple. “What’s got you all sour?”

“Not sour,” you shrugged and picked at the label on the beer bottle. “Just…I don’t know. Thinking."

"Always a bad idea."

"Reflecting.”

“Well you look like you’re about to tell someone to get fucked so…”

"Maybe I am," you grinned at him cheekily.

"As long as it isn't me." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "But you know it gets me going either way."

You slapped the back of your hand against his chest just as a gaggle of voices called your names.

Jane was the first one to run your way from across the yard, with Dustin and Lucas hot on her heels. They were all talking over one another, and Jane especially looked like she was about to burst into tears.

Eddie was the one to try to make sense of them, and he yelled a bellowing "shut up" that got them to stop their barrage.

"You're leaving?" Jane asked, looking directly at you. "Leaving Hawkins?"

"Uh," you paused and looked at Eddie, who held his hands up innocently.

"Gareth's got a big mouth," he reasoned.

"Of course he does," you rolled your eyes and then turned back to the kids. "Uh...yeah we are. At the end of the summer. I’m opening a new store. Again."

"What about you?" Dustin demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Eddie.

"Where my lady goes, I must follow," he stood tall and held a hand over his heart for a second, chivalrous as ever, before he took a sip of his beer and slumped back into his usual posture. "Besides, Corroded Coffin has a better chance in a bigger city. We're big fish in a small tank in Hawkins. Gonna pack up the van; give Chicago a chance to chew us up and spit us out."

Eddie and the boys bickered back and forth--gathering a small crowd of onlookers the longer it went--about the trip and the plans about where you'd all live and work while you stood there with Jane.

"How could you just leave?" she asked.

"Oh, honey, that's just...how it is," you reassured her. "I get a new assignment, Mindy takes over. And I'll be back to visit. Maybe you and Max will take a drive up for a weekend in the city."

"That'd be fun."

"It isn't goodbye."

"I know," she nodded somberly.

"Besides, you're going off to school in the fall," you reminded her. "You weren't meant to stay at StarCourt Mall forever, and I wouldn't want you too. You have a bright future ahead of you. I know it's scary, but it's all gonna work out. One way or another."

They were the same words that Jen had said to you before you embarked on your big adventure to Hawkins, and you were happy to pass the sentiment along to Jane.

"What about you?" she asked after a minute. "Your future? Are you afraid?"

That was the question, wasn't it? A new adventure, maybe in a more familiar setting but...a new challenge nonetheless. But you looked over at Eddie, who had both Dustin and Gareth in headlocks; his head was thrown back in obnoxious laughter and he gave you a shrug that said "how could I help myself" when he noticed you looking at him.

He was an idiot. But he was your idiot. And he'd be by your side for this next adventure, just like he promised he would be.

"No," you told her honestly. "I'm not afraid at all."

---

September 1990

"Alright, here's a question?"

"Shoot."

"When…is our anniversary?"

"Uhh...Ed..." You let the question hang awkwardly in the air, unasked, but Eddie could read your mind.

The two of you were symbiotic at this point; still, he was happy that you had no idea what he had in mind for the day.

"No hear me out," he took a few steps ahead and turned to walk backwards so he could look at you. "Because I really put some thought into it. If we're going by first dates, it's in January—”

“Like it has been for the past 4 years.”

“—but, if we're going by first kiss..."

"If we're going by first kiss, that was last week," you laughed and rolled your eyes. "So you’re late."

“Yeah,” he agreed wickedly wistfully. “I guess I am.”

Of course you remembered.

The two of you were walking. Exploring, actually, around the cemetery where your Papa enjoyed his eternal rest.

5 years and it was a lot easier now.

You still cried sometimes but the initial guilt was gone and you found enjoyment in spending the day traversing about the sprawling cemetery grounds, visiting this great uncle and that distant cousin, just like you did with Papa when he was still alive.

“Did he make sure he bought flowers for everyone he ever met?” Eddie had asked as you piled bunches and bunches of flowers into his arms at the florist that first visit after Papa passed, when you told Eddie of the tradition. “Aren’t they just gonna die?”

“This is why I don’t like flowers,” you explained. “They die. At least when they die here, the dead can still enjoy them.”

“Well shit, that’s a pretty metal thought baby,” he cooed softly and shuffled the bunches to hold them with some more care. “Can I put that in a song? I’ll dedicate it to you.”

He had and you’d cried when he first sang you the haunting ballad in the privacy of your living room.

Today, though…well you’d already made the rounds today. Only one stop left; the most important stop. Eddie had suggested taking the long way through the mausoleum—down hallways lined with plush red carpet and dated sofas and marble walls filled with the dead—partially for his own curiosity, and partially so he could build up the courage.

You were doing quite a good job distracting him from his nerves as you conversed easily—whatever thoughts popped up in either of your heads—and explained the differences between this Saint and that one as you passed their statues and depictions in stained glass. They all looked at him with serene eyes and he thought that meant this journey would be a successful one.

There would be no crying, if he could help it.

Maybe tears of joy? He could settle for that.

“So what has you thinking of anniversaries?” you finally asked as you sat on the tufted velvet ottoman in front of your grandparents' epitaph.

Eddie shrugged and looked around, absorbing the names and dates inscribed on the marble walls that surrounded him.

“Been a lot of milestones lately. It’s been a couple years since graduation, 5 years since your grandpa passed…” He trailed off for a moment. “Been a year since we moved…since we’ve both been at new stores.”

You gasped and he felt his heart stop in his chest.

“Is…are you thinking of quitting?” You asked with big eyes.

“What?”

“That new Hot Topical store they’re opening? Or whatever it's called? I saw you chatting with that District Manager in the food court the other day. Are you leaving TapeWorld? Eddie, that’s so exciting. You should…”

“No I’m not quitting,” he announced with finality, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“…nevermind then. Then what’s going on? You thinking of breaking up with me or something?”

“No.”

“Well I know you’re not proposing; you literally just wrote a song called Marriage is a Death Sentence.”

Your laughter echoed through the mausoleum but you stopped abruptly when Eddie didn’t join you.

He watched your expression change as you processed the thought. And when you looked back at him again he smiled nervously.

“Eddie…” you said hoarsely and then cleared your throat. “Eddie, you just wrote a song called Marriage is a Death Sentence.”

“About my parents,” he explained. “And how they did everything wrong.”

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “A lot of people get it wrong. Marriage is a Death Sentence. Those are literally the lyrics. You’ve been singing it when you wash the dishes.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s catchy.”

“It is, isn’t it? But...while I was working on it...it got me thinking that…I mean…just because they got it wrong, and a lot of other people do, doesn’t mean we will.”

You said his name almost desperately now.

"A-and," he continued. "W-we don't have to get married but...I don't know. Spending the rest of my life with you sounds pretty great."

He pulled one hand out of his pocket casually and with it came a small ring box. He shook it a few times and held it out to you.

There were a bevy of emotions cycling your face, all of them undecipherable, until you settled on shock.

Good shock...hopefully.

“You’re supposed to get down on one knee I think,” you whispered again.

Yeah...good shock.

He let out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah but what if it isn’t a ring? What if this is all just a red herring? What if I had to get one of my teeth pulled and it's in here?”

You let out a shocked laugh and your brows hitched together in question.

"Did you put a tooth in there?"

"I don't know...seems as likely as any other potential surprise."

“Is it another cootie catcher?” you guessed.

“Only one way to find out.”

He shook the box again.

You slowly took it from him, fingers deliberately brushing against his which caused his heart to race.

He felt lightheaded when you opened the lid.

You smiled so brightly, he swore you rivaled the sun.

“Oh…Eddie…”

---

December 1992

"So what'd you do?"

"What makes you think I did something?"

"I love you son," Wayne sighed and leant against the counter. "But you always do something."

It was Christmas. The worst time of year for both you and Eddie. Long shifts, angry customers, restless coworkers...but a standing promise to make it back to Hawkins for the holiday had been the light at the end of the tunnel. Especially since Wayne and Rick had come out to see you for the past few years.

It was tough but you and Eddie made it work; hit the road right after your Christmas Eve shifts had ended, fallen into bed as soon as you'd arrived at Rick's close to midnight.

And you didn't need to be back to work until the 27th.

It was a perfect little getaway.

Except it hadn't been perfect.

Because you hadn't been talking to each other past the standard "good mornings" and "see you tonights" all week. The drive had been made in silence. And you chose to sit as far as you could from him during Christmas dinner, opting to sit beside Wayne and chat all night, instead of right next to him like you always did.

And unfortunately, yeah...it'd been Eddie's fault.

Eddie knew that, and usually he could admit it easily. Fights between the two of you were few and far between, and you had a good track record for recovering from them. For some reason though, this time was different, and it was hard for him to admit how badly he'd fucked up.

Wayne could see right through the two of you, though. Especially through his nephew. No matter how good you thought you were at hiding it.

"There was this...big opportunity we could have had," Eddie began his explanation calmly. "But it wasn't a sure thing."

"Oh yeah?" Wayne hummed. "How big?"

"Big. Like...a once-in-a-lifetime thing. An underground show a buddy of mine heard about it through the grapevine. Said they were looking for an opening act. Wanted to throw me a bone." He hit the counter with his fist gently. "But...he got his wires crossed. Told me it was tonight. So it meant we'd need to miss Christmas. But it's really next week."

"Hmmm..." Wayne nodded sagely and kept listening.

Eddie suddenly felt uncomfortable at the tone though, and became desperate for his uncle to understand.

Understand that he hadn't meant to hurt you.

"Work's been hard this season Wayne," Eddie continued with an edge to his voice. "Made me realize that I don't wanna do this forever. I wanna make music. You know that. It's been my dream forever."

"I know it has."

"Me and the guys. Our dream."

"What'd you say to her?" Wayne asked suddenly, as he lifted the mug of eggnog to his lips.

His knowing gaze made Eddie fidget and harsh words echo through his memory.

"Why can't you understand? This is huge for us. How can we say no?"

"I didn't say you had to pass it up, I just said it was a shame that we'll miss Christmas."

"You don't have to miss Christmas, you can just go to your aunt's if you don't want to go to the show."

"You know what I mean. You know Wayne and Rick look forward to seeing--"

"Wayne and Rick would understand how big this is. Why can't you? Why the fuck do you care anyways? It's not like they're your family!"

Wayne swallowed a mouthful of eggnog and then his lips pressed together tightly with a long exhale. Eddie turned to watch you and Rick chatter while you organized the gifts into neat little piles; even though you were avoiding each other, seeing your smile made him feel a lot better than his uncle's intense stare.

"I fucked up," he croaked. "I know."

"How're you gonna fix it?" Wayne asked.

"That I don't know."

Wayne sighed and clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"I would suggest," he leant in close and his voice rumbled, the same way it always did when Eddie would get in trouble growing up. The few times Wayne needed to intervene at all. "I would suggest you start with I'm sorry."

---

Eddie stared up at the glow in the dark stars that were stuck to the ceiling of the old guest bedroom that used to be his designated room at Rick's once upon a time.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He couldn't sleep.

He might have spent most of his life in Hawkins but a few years in and around Chicago and he'd gotten used to the sounds of traffic and trains and people walking around late at night.

And it might've been easier if you were closer to him than you were, if the sounds of your sleep-deepened breathing and the soft snores you always denied were in his ear. Instead you were lying on your side at the edge of the full bed, as far from him as you could get, equally as awake as he was if your near-silent breaths were any indicator.

He turned his head and watched you for a moment before he took a breath of courage.

"Sweetheart," he whispered. When there was no response, he said your name, a little louder this time. "You awake?"

There was silence...heavy silence...and then you responded.

"Mmmhmm." You shifted to look halfway over your shoulder at him. "It's too quiet."

"I was just thinking that."

"Hmmm."

"I've got...a lot on my mind too."

"Yeah?" you turned fully now, lying on your back just like him; your shoulders touched but you refused to look at him. "What about?"

"I was thinking..."

What was he thinking? A lot of things. How to start an apology, how to fix this. How to make tomorrow better so your Christmas wasn't ruined.

"...that at least when we fight fight, we still talk to each other afterwards."

You scoffed and he closed his eyes, cursing himself and his big mouth.

"That...wasn't the right thing to say."

"No it wasn't," you sassed him immediately.

"It wasn't what I wanted to say either," he quickly added. "I wanted to say...that I'm sorry."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Aside from the fact that I know you too well," you began. "Rick was trying to get me to forgive you all night."

"Why did he think I did something?" Eddie asked incredulously.

"Because you always do something."

"God damn it, did Rick say that? Wayne said the same thing."

The two of you laughed together for the first time in days, and as you settled down, Eddie reached over and took your hand in his. He threaded your fingers together and rubbed his thumb back and forth to soothe you.

"I'm sorry that I...that I was a thick-headed, stubborn, big-mouthed idiot who hurt your feelings," he apologized. "I know that we've both been under pressure but there's no excuse. I could've been more level-headed, but I wasn't and I hurt you."

"Yeah well," you squeezed his hand tightly as you responded, "I guess I'm not innocent here either. I could have...been more excited for you, supportive. Instead of trying to make it about Christmas. I was thinking about how desperate I was to get away from work, excited to be back here. And it's no excuse. I'm sorry too."

"Yeah but I told you Wayne and Rick weren't your family."

"Well I told you--"

"Are we gonna fight again?" Eddie stopped you before you could get ahead of yourself. You huffed a soft "no" and melted into the bed, all tension in your body gone. "Did you like your Christmas gift?"

"Jesus." He could hear you rolling your eyes.

"Well did you?"

"Duh," you deadpanned. "Did you like yours?"

"Uh, duh," he parroted, a little more exaggeratedly. "You didn't give me a kiss though."

"Well you didn't give me a kiss either," you retorted, but you were already rolling over so you could close the distance and seal your lips against his.

The two of you showered one another with more whispered apologies and words of devotion before you got ahead of yourselves.

Clothes were shed, soft caresses shared, and lips lavished over the most sensitive parts of you.

You still liked it when you dragged your teeth along the shaft of his cock a little and got him to beg, and then Eddie returned the favor when he sucked a bruising hickey to your nipple that made you squeal and call him a god.

The two of you had lived on your own for so long that it was good fun trying to keep your voices down, or make sure the bed didn't slide across the hardwood floors with your passionate fucking.

And all slights were soothed when you reached the height of pleasure together, and whispered sweet words of affection and forgiveness as you descended back to earth.

Come morning, Wayne obnoxiously asked when the two of you were planning to hit the road back to Chicago.

"It's been a good while since I lost sleep thanks to your spirited activities," he noted, embarrassing the two of you in front of Rick. "No more fighting when you come back to visit in the future alright? I miss you dearly, but I can't say I miss that at all.”

---

April 1993

"It took you guys long enough," Dustin announced as he threw open the door.

“You know what, you try sitting in a rusty old shitbox with a bunch of musicians that still act like they're teenagers for 10 hours," you deadpanned and then pushed past the guys as they protested to pull Dustin into a hug. "Happy housewarming, congratulations."

It was Spring Break.

Well for the kids it was--although, they weren't really kids anymore were they--but for you and the guys, it was more like a long weekend. You'd scheduled yourself off for a few days, Eddie'd requested the whole week off, Jeff and Dave had traded shifts with coworkers, and Gareth simply quit his job.

"I'll find a new one," he reassured everyone, including his girlfriend, on St. Patrick's Day when he announced his departure before he and the guys had gotten on stage to play for a crowded pub in the suburbs.

It had been a headache and a half to get everything in order and everyone in the right place at the right time, but you were all here for one thing and one thing only.

Dustin's first apartment.

A Hellfire Club Reunion.

And a special one-shot that Dustin and Eddie had spent hours on the phone planning for the past few months.

Months.

You didn't think you'd been invited at first, but when Dustin told Eddie the full guest list, Eddie volunteered your attendance immediately.

Your forays into Dungeons and Dragons were few and far between; never a big campaign, only the one-shots that Eddie had put together here and there for the guys or a few coworkers who were interested. And this would be the first time that you played with such a big group. Or such an experienced group.

You were nervous.

"You'll do great," Eddie reassured you as he plucked snack cakes and sodas off the gas station shelves for snacks on the road. "I know the roleplaying is not your strongest suit, but it's just Henderson and the gang."

Now you were here and your nerves melted as you slipped further into mother hen mode the longer you looked around at what was obviously the apartment of college students. It was a familiar sight; you, Eddie, and the guys had all crammed into a duplex when you'd moved to Chicago and you'd had your fair share of pizza boxes stacked in the corners before garbage day and underwear of questionable origin and cleanliness tucked into the cracks of the sofa.

But that was a time long since passed and seeing it now made your fingers itch.

And your ears ring.

"...be here soon and I figured that you'd be here first to help me set u--Mom you ok?" Dustin stopped his chattering when he noticed you were frozen in the door of the living room. He glanced around the space that would soon host all of his friends. "Oh...yeah I should probably clean up a little more. To be fair, most of this isn't my mess."

You felt your eye twitch at his dismissive laugh.

"Jesus Henderson, didn't you just move in January?" Jeff asked when he saw the sorry state.

The boys all started giving Dustin shit, and Eddie had the foresight to put a hand on your shoulder and steer you back towards the door.

"We're gonna go take a quick smoke break; why don't you four nerds try to get this place looking a little more Hellfire appropriate in the mean time, m'kay?" he ordered them with faux sincerity. "We brought those props you asked for Dustin."

You heard the faint, sorry Mom, come from the boys as Eddie got you outside.

---

Eddie was extremely attentive and was quick to take charge of the ragtag group, running back and forth between the little stoop where you'd essentially set up camp right outside of the building, and back up to Dustin's apartment to make sure the cleaning and setup were underway.

"Hey listen, you boss enough people around at work," he reassured you when you insisted that you'd be alright to go back in. "You don't need to do it on your day off too."

You proved to be useful enough as the other started to arrive, little by little.

Max and Lucas had flown in from California and arrived via cab.

"It kind of sucks when the place you live is the place everyone else goes on vacation," Lucas laughed good-naturedly.

His younger sister Erica, who you remember from her days of buying scrunchies and glitter makeup, was now grown up and toted an entire kit filled with binders and notebooks and dice.

"It's my first ever Spring Break," she sniffed. "I could have been in Miami with my friends. But...I wouldn't miss this for the world, so it better be worth it."

Mike and Will drove up in the Wheeler's old station wagon, their siblings in tow in the backseat; Nancy and Jonathan had apparently been broken up for some time now.

It apparently had been an awkward drive for all of them.

Jane unexpectedly arrived with a new love interest friend and was beyond ecstatic to see you, barely letting you get a question in as she told you about everything she'd been up to.

Robin was unfortunately absent, but sent her regards along with the last person to arrive. Someone who you honestly didn't expect to see at all, but who had pulled up in a shiny new car, sporting a wedding band and a mustache: Steve Harrington.

"Look what the cat dragged in," you greeted with a smile. You pointed at the wedding band. "Seems like you don't need my relationship advice anymore."

"Same relationship," he chuckled and shrugged, suddenly bashful.

"No shit," you laughed. "Congratulations."

"Congrats to you too," he pointed to the ring on your own finger but you waved him off dismissively.

"Marriage is a Death Sentence. This is just...symbolic more than anything. We both know we're not going anywhere."

"Get more of a deduction on your tax return if you guys do tie the knot."

"Alright Ned Flanders," you rolled your eyes. "Taxes are a death sentence too. I'll ask Ed to write that song and dedicate it to you."

"By all means, I'm actually an accountant now. Maybe it'll get me some more clients."

You cackled.

You and Steve made some casual chit chat as you walked up to join the others now that everyone had arrived.

The apartment looked worlds different, especially with the abundance of candles that surrounded the table you all crowded around.

Dustin was taking the lead with this one, his DM screens in ominous abundance as he sat at the head of the table and filed through stacks of papers.

You looked around at all of your friends...really all of Eddie's friends who had become your friends, your family. It was nice to see them all in one place again.

Then you looked at Eddie himself, who looked right at home surrounded by them all. Laughing and spieling and picking on them with bright, glowing fondness that radiated off of him. You didn't think you could feel any more love for him, but suddenly in that moment, your cup overflowed.

He deserved this; deserved all of this...all of the love you all had to give and share with him because he loved you all so hard in return.

You took your seat beside him and grinned and patted your knee encouragingly.

"Perfect timing, sweetheart," he announced. "Hope you're ready to get absolutely obliterated."

Dustin hit a button on the stereo he'd set up beside him and everyone started to cheer as music and sounds created the ambiance of the adventure you were about to embark on.

"Welcome friends as we revisit a grand adventure of old tonight," Dustin began. "As we venture deep into Greyhawk and come face to face a great evil once defeated. Timelines have shifted, and what you might remember from the past is no longer what it seems; it will take great courage and strength to overcome challenges that you'd previously faced with ease. Are you up for the challenge?"

Everyone cheered again."

"Good," he said with a guttural groan, eyes rolling back in his head dramatically. "Then let us begin on our quest to face...The Cult of Vecna."

---

May 1995

It was like deja vu.

Maybe because he'd done this a thousand times, just not recently. It'd been years since he'd worked at the Mall, after all, and the muscle memory might have been a little out of practice, but it was still there.

He ran up the stalled escalator, long legs skipping every other step, until he reached the top, out of breath.

"Fuck," he bent over with his hands on his knees, panting. "Fuck. This is why I gotta quit smoking."

He'd taken the day off to surprise you; he and the guys were supposed to be recording today--their first album; it'd taken long enough--but this was bigger and he wanted to be there for you.

Needed to be there.

It wasn't every day that his best friend and beloved--the love of his life--his dear Store Manager...wasn't going to be a Store Manager anymore.

You'd both broken the news to each other on the same day. For weeks you'd only mentioned small developments in passing, never letting your hopes get too high just in case of a let down.

"We're getting signed," he announced as you'd collided into one another outside of your apartment building. "It's happening we're getting signed and we're gonna make a whole fucking album sweetheart!"

"Oh my god!" you shrieked. "Holy shit Ed!"

"No more weird touring schedules for fests, no more begging to get a song on the radio during the 3am broadcast, it's happening!" He cupped your cheeks and peppered kisses around your face.

"It's happening for me too," you laughed and tried to shake him away. "I got the job."

"What?!" he squished your cheeks harder until you jabbed him lightly in the stomach to get him to let you go.

"I got the job," you laughed, head tilted back as you announced it to the world. "Eddie, baby...you're looking at the new associate manager of Visual Development."

You'd spent the night indulging on a deep dish pizza, fucking making love, and talking about the future.

Maybe you could buy a house...maybe you could get a puppy...take an actual vacation someplace and not just a weekend trip to the Dells or wherever Corroded could find a gig...the possibilities were endless...

But from that moment on, it was a whirlwind.

The band had gotten started right away, signing contracts and working with the small label that had seen their potential and believed in them.

And now, a few weeks later, it was here. Your big day. Your last day as a Store Manager at Claire's, before you went off to their home offices to tell people what color scrunchie was gonna be big for the season.

There were a bunch of purple and pink balloons tied to the sandwich board outside of your store, and as Eddie got closer, he could hear snippets of conversation as your associates asked you about your new position.

"Have you seen your office yet?"

"Yeah, I have," you laughed.

"Is the desk pink?"

"No but the walls are."

"Do you get your own cell phone?"

"Probably not. I'm not the CEO guys. I'm just a manager."

"Are you gonna have to wear business suits?"

"No," Eddie answered for you as he quickly snuck up behind you. You jumped as his arms wrapped around your waist, but you quickly melted into the embrace. "But she's not gonna have to wear clothes from Seventeen Magazine anymore either."

"Yeah," you sighed. "It really sucks to wear clothes from the juniors department once you're past 30. They're just not made the same way."

"Gotta take your word for it sweetheart, I'm not 30 for another few months," he blew a raspberry against the side of your neck and squeezed you tightly in his embrace.

Your associates all sighed dreamily at the sight of the two of you canoodling—power couple who?—and Eddie was thankful for this once-in-a-lifetime chance that you wouldn't just swat him away for PDA while you were on the salesfloor.

"I'm sorry this is coming from the man who still dresses the same as he did when he was 17," you laughed and reached back to pluck at his battle vest that had only accumulated more pins and patches over the years.

"I'm very sorry that I'm not trendy, sweetheart." He kissed your cheek. "But I'm what you would call timeless."

"I'd like a divorce." You pulled his left hand away from your torso so you could attempt to pull the band off his ring finger. "Effective immediately."

"We're not married," he murmured teasingly in your ear. "Or did you forget?"

"You finally gonna seal the deal Munson?" you whispered back. "It's only been 10 years."

"Just so you can file for divorce? I don't think so."

"What if I trade you my longevity pin? I think it would look nice on your vest."

"How about...I take you to lunch first?" he asked, voice back to its normal volume. "And we negotiate the terms and conditions? She's got her big corporate lady pants on, trying to get me to sign a contract."

"I guess I could pencil you in," you feigned annoyance and then looked to your assistant manager. "Let me ask my secretary."

Both you and Eddie stared at them expectantly.

"Get out of here," they laughed at your antics. "Before I kick you out; so sweet, you guys make me gag sometimes."

---

The rest of your final shift was eventful, and Eddie sat in the chair of the Ear Piercing station while you chatted with your regular customers and received one visitor after another.

Old employees and coworkers, your mom who made you take a picture with the whole team, and then a very cheesy one with Eddie who dipped you for a kiss at the very last second.

Jen had come around close to 5 to bring even more balloons and a cake, and had made jokes that she was gonna have to haunt the corporate offices even more now.

"So we can talk shit, obviously," she joked.

Eddie had called Kyle up, who was now managing a store in Milwaukee, to tell him both bits of good news and Kyle had made the drive down to bring a sentimental gift to both of you on your last day.

A picture frame with a collage of polaroids from your years at StarCourt. There was a filmstrip from one of the photo-booths that depicted a younger you and Eddie, making funny faces and staring longingly at one another.

"You left this in the stock room once upon a time," he told Eddie as he pointed it out specifically. "That was before you were dating too. I squirreled it away and forgot about it but was gonna keep it in case you never got the courage to ask her out. And look at the two of you now."

"Yeah, Eddie watched you as you caressed the glass. "Look at us now."

"I still think I should have won the bet," Kyle sniffed bitterly.

You had scheduled yourself to close, and you were expertly restocking the scrunchie wall as the last few customers shopped.

Eddie kept snaking his arms around you and switching this scrunchie here for that one there, and you'd whine and complain about him messing up the color flow. Still, you never made any effort to stop him, and each time you stomped your foot petulantly, he would drop a smooch right on your cheek to "earn" your forgiveness.

"You know, this is what I was doing when we first met," you recalled after a few kisses. "Officially met."

"What?" Eddie asked.

"Restocking scrunchies."

"You sure?" he frowned and tried to think back. He vaguely recalled...bracelets of some sort...or had he just been looking at the jewelry. He'd been so nervous to ask you out back then...it was all a blur.

And he hadn't really even asked you out at that time either. Jesus Christ, what a loser he'd been.

Where would the two of you be now if only he hadn't fumbled on that first not-date? Right where you were now? Maybe broken up? A lot of the growing the two of you had done had been done with the soft buffer of friendship first...it almost caused his heart to ache to think that they might have caused an end to a relationship if things had been different.

Because now he couldn't imagine what his life would be like without you.

"You still haven't let me pierce your ears," you leaned in close to him, nose brushing against his, and teased him.

Eddie froze and then backed away.

"Well," he licked over his bottom lip pensively. "It is your last day...the last hour of your shift too...I think I could be persuaded."

You squealed and ran to get the forms ready. You didn't even let him fill them out, you just pushed him back into the seat he'd been occupying all day as you got it all ready.

"No more being afraid of needles babe," you cackled, the kind of cackle he'd only ever heard when you were being especially devious or evil.

"I have tattoos," he argued, trying to stand from the chair in protest, but you pressed your hand to his chest to get him to sit back down. "I have a ton of tattoos; if I was afraid of needles I wouldn't. Your logic is flawed."

"Yeah ok Spock," you dismissed his reasoning. "This one takes a chunk out of you though, so it's different."

"What argument are you trying to win here baby? Are you trying to get me to get my ears pierced or are you trying to get me to admit I'm afraid."

"Dealers Choice."

"You're lucky I love you," he grumbled.

You were silent for a while as you marked his ears, as you snapped on your gloves, and readied the piercing gun.

Was he afraid? No. He trusted you. But damn if the anticipation wasn't making him sweat a little.

Eddie closed his eyes as he prepared himself for the next step, but you paused and made one quick run across the store before returning.

"Alright I have one last important question to ask you," you began, and he peeped an eye open to see you standing there with your hands behind your back. "It's the age old question and I don't think we ever got a solid answer."

You revealed your plunder and then stared at him expectantly.

"Take your pick: broken hearts or gummy bears."

Eddie went soft as he stared at the two sets of studs backed by purple carding: little black broken hearts and the neon green gummy bears.

It was the age old question wasn't it? The first question he asked you before he even asked you out.

"See, if it was still 1985," he tilted his head back and forth, "I think this would be a hard one to figure out."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. But uh," he reached out and pointed to his choice. "Now it's a no brainer."

"Seriously?" you laughed.

"Seriously."

"And why are you, Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, the most metal band on Earth, picking the Gummy Bears?"

"Sweetheart," he singsonged, pausing for dramatic effect. "I think you know."

"I don't think I do," you parroted.

"Ugh," he scoffed and turned his head. "I guess I am the more romantic of the two of us."

"Answer the question, Cassanova."

"Sweetheart," he turned back to you, hand over his heart. "It has to be the gummy bears."

"Has to be?"

"Must be."

"Because..."

"Because I can confidently say that my heart is never gonna be broken if I have you around."

Your challenging gaze softened and Eddie swore that he saw tears at the corners of your eyes. For a moment he didn't know if you were gonna kiss him or start crying.

"Shut the fuck up," your associate shouted from across the store, ruining the sweet moment. "That was so adorable. Oh my god."

"Language Chels!" you scolded her good-naturedly.

And then, in those last few minutes of your career as a store manager, you kissed Eddie softly on his forehead...on his lips...and then punched holes right through both of his earlobes in rapid succession.

"Fuck!" He screamed. "Fuck!"

"I love you," you chuckled at him.

"Yeah. Love you too..." he grimaced. "Fuck! I love you."

---

Thank you for reading The Store Manager Verse.

#store manager verse #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fic #stranger things fic

[huramuna]

new valyria - one shot.

aemond x shera stark, modern. 18+, minors do not interact or you will be smited. a banshee's lament au.

new valyria, the hottest club in town, is owned by the Targaryen family. it is themed in the style of Valyria of old with towering pillars of ivory and gold. the dress code is strictly red and black and their signature drink, a fruity and spicy blended brandy, is called 'the Balerion'.

i might do more one shots in this au heehee.

word count: 5.5k

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, shera being a mess, aemond = whore?, aegon has rabies, helaena x shera agenda

ain't it fun - paramore • hard times - paramore

warnings: thigh riding, oral (f receiving), shera has a praise kink, aemond targaryen has a tongue piercing, semi public sex (they're in an alley)

“Sher, please don’t be a buzzkill, it's one night— just one!” Cregan exasperated, hands held out in a pleading fashion. He was pacing back and forth in front of his sister, perplexed. 

“It’s seriously not my scene, Cregan. I mean… loud music, flashing lights and intoxicated individuals everywhere? You really think that’s a good place for me to be?” Shera retorted, lazed back in her fluffy couch, glancing at her phone every once in a while.

“It’s really classy, trust me. There are tables to the side where you can sit away from the action.” 

“Why am I even going if I’m going to be ‘away from the action’?” she punctuated air quotes in his face. 

“When was the last time you left the house except to go to the post office? When was the last time you socialized with anyone who wasn’t me, Moongeist or Helaena?” 

Shera went silent, brow knitting together. She folded her arms over her chest defensively. “Low blow, make fun of the girl with an anxiety disorder and agoraphobia.” 

“I’m… I just want you to experience life! You’re young and spry— you should be out in the world trying everything while you still can! But instead, you insist on staying at home, wearing glasses that make you look like a librarian, and making soap. You already act the part of a grandma.” 

“It’s… I just don’t want anyone to see me, I don’t want to be perceived, Cregan. I don’t want people to look at me, to… to,” she gestured fervently to her eye, hands shaking slightly. She had a scar that ran the length of half of her face, bisecting her one eye into a milky-blue blindness. It was from a childhood accident, which was more or less a hazy nightmare to her now. “Y’know.”

“No one will see you, Shera. It’s… dark and low lit, that’s part of the experience.”

“Thirty minutes. I will stay approximately thirty minutes before I call an uber and go home. And… you have to do my laundry for… a month. No, two months!” Shera exclaimed, pointing out two fingers at him. Moongeist whined on the couch, giving a low warbling noise. 

–

Two hours later, she was dressed. She opted for a lacy baby-blue lolita style dress at first, but Cregan had protested immediately. 

“You look like a scary Victorian doll. Pick something from this era, please. Plus, there is a dress code of black and red.” 

Shoving a rude gesture in his face, she begrudgingly changed. She opted for a red satin dress. It had a scoop halter neckline which was certainly not her usual style. Glancing in the mirror, she wholly considered bailing out of the situation entirely. The snug fabric hugged her curves, her thighs rubbing together as she walked. She felt… exposed, all of the little dips and divots of her body on display— she wasn’t sure if it was even flattering. 

A small frown tugged at her lips as she fiddled with the plunging front of the dress, trying to get it to stay at a point where her breasts didn’t look like they were about to burst out and start kicking ass and taking names. Isn’t there tape made for this sort of thing? As self conscious as she was about the whole situation, there was something… liberating about getting dressed up with (almost) the sole purpose of being ogled at. While her face was something of a sore point, she would hope that at least one person in the club could find her body desirable. She was a ‘short-stack’ as Helaena called her, who worshiped her curves and soft spots like they were the second coming of a messiah. Shera squeezed her thighs together at the thought– if she didn’t get a hookup tonight, she would need to call Helaena. Some itches could only be scratched on your own for so long.

Pressing double-sided adhesive tape, that she used for her soap orders, to her chest, she somewhat successfully kept the satin in place. Giving another look and not quite on board with what she saw, she hid herself in an oversized puffy faux furred jacket. 

Just thirty minutes. It’s just thirty minutes, Shera. You can do this… just… chill out. 

Despite her lackluster words of affirmation and the subsequent panic bubbling in her stomach, she grabbed her purse. Her breathing was uneven and she took a hit from her emergency inhaler, hoping to the Gods at play that she wouldn’t have an asthma attack in the middle of the club. 

Shera imagined, somehow, dancing with some attractive number and getting hot and heavy (as if!) and then having to pull out her inhaler. Lung health is not cute. Oh, yeah, my airways get blocked sometimes by mucus and I can’t breathe. What do you mean you don’t want to stick your tongue down my throat? 

Myriad of issues aside, she pushed out of her room, head held not quite high, but just enough so she could see. 

Cregan nodded in approval (as if he was some sort of fashion expert) and they were off. The drive was quiet and Shera realized he never told her the club name. He always referred to it as ‘the club’. She somewhat understood the need for a dress code at an establishment like a lounge, but color coded? How pretentious. Shera and Cregan didn’t even really look good in red— they were more akin to monochromatic and cool toned blues rather than red. 

Red and black reminded her of… something. She couldn’t quite place it.

They pulled up to the building, which didn’t have a sign or anything. It was wedged in between two other buildings, but its architecture was vastly different. While the adjoining facilities were modern, the club looked like it was from ancient Greece. It had towering ivory pillars, etched in the simplistic but still somewhat complex design of corinthian filigree, the individual chips of the sculptor’s chisel still apparent— they were handmade, hand carved. The inside of the building emanated a foreboding and very deep red. 

Shera suddenly wondered if she was about to enter Mount Olympus— or maybe the underworld, as the sickly maroon color reminded her of the River Styx. 

The bouncer, a burly man who could easily bench press Cregan (an impressive feat, considering her brother was a hockey player built like a brick shit house) stood at the door. 

“Name.” the makeshift Charon grunted. Shera half expected him to start brandishing a wooden paddle. 

“Stark.” Cregan replied, hands in his pockets. 

Not-Charon looked at his list, then at the pair of Stark siblings, back and forth for at least thirty seconds. 

“S-T-A…” Cregan began to spell out their last name in irritation before the ferryman held up his hand in pause. 

“You’re on, go in.” 

Entering the club, to which Shera still didn’t know the name of, was certainly like entering the gates of Hell. She felt like Dante, entering the first circle, guided by Virgil. It was dark, the low boom of bass ringing in her ears. They were guided by a path of red floor lights. What is this? An amusement park? It was a weird mix of trepidation of entering the unknown— which to Shera, could either be the actual entrance to Hell, or the entrance to the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney world. All she was sure of is that she wanted a turkey leg and to go home. 

And yet, some part of her brain, as small and withered as it may be, pressed on for adventure and excitement. They approached the end of the path and it gave way to a large room, still painted in that deep saccharine hue. The roof was high-vaulted and curved inward– it was like stepping into the Pantheon, the coffered, domed ceiling seeming to go on forever. The club was set up in a circular manner, as the room curved around. The bar itself was in the middle, hugging a large stage platform. On the stage was a singular grand piano and a DJ station. All surfaces were decorated in ivory, accented by red velvet. 

The music playing was a mix of the piano and the DJ, working together to create a surprisingly exuberant melody that made Shera’s skin rise in goosebumps. 

“Let’s get drinks, Sher,” Cregan steered her to the wrapping bar quickly, his sights set on something or someone in particular.

Shera didn’t feel much like drinking– she had no taste for alcohol, only trying it a few times in her life and never enough to even get a buzz. She didn’t find the point in choking down liquid that tasted like poison only to feel like living death the next morning. She slipped into one of the velvet bar stools, her feet dangling under her.

“Just cranberry juice, please,” she murmured to the barkeep, who returned her request with an eyebrow raise. 

Cregan began whooping and hollering behind her and she turned to see someone she hadn’t seen in a long time: Jacaerys Velaryon. 

Once upon a time, Shera and Cregan had been extremely close to the Velaryon and Targaryen kids, growing up in the same social circles, they were all an unstoppable and very tight knit little group of hellions. 

But that was years ago– she didn’t talk to any of them anymore, except for Helaena, who she had stayed best friends with throughout the years, and may or may not be in a casual on and off situationship with.

She tried not to remember the fact that, at some point, she had been attached at the hip to Helaena’s brother, Aemond. They were like peanut butter and jelly, like cookies and cream, like macaroni and cheese, and any other iconic food (or maybe not, she was just hungry) related duo. Thick as thieves, they were. Until… the ever creeping monster of puberty and hormones and all the things related to growing up split them apart. Shera developed her terrible anxiety disorder, while Aemond flourished in academics and moved through the social ranks at school. They hadn’t spoken since they were sixteen, when Shera inevitably withdrew from physical school in favor of at-home, online school.

Shera approached him warily, seeing him laughing and joking with his friends that were just… so out of her atmosphere, she couldn’t even imagine having a conversation with.

They hadn’t been close in a few years but… it wouldn’t feel right just up and disappearing from school without telling him, right? 

Some stupid, childish part of her thought he might ask her to stay, ask her what’s wrong, ask her anything, really. 

But as she got closer, she felt all of their eyes on her, their lips pulled into sneers. It's irrational, it's irrational, it's irrational, she tried to reason with herself and her bubbling anxiety in her stomach. They aren’t laughing at you, they aren’t, they aren’t. 

But it… it feels like they were. Aemond’s blue eyes zeroed in on her, one slightly off-color than the other. They had both been involved in a childhood accident, leaving them both blinded. But, looking at the two of them, one would only be able to notice Shera’s glaring scar. 

Aemond’s eye and subsequent scar had been mostly covered up with extensive cosmetic surgery and other procedures, at his mother’s behest, and on his father’s dime, which was seemingly an endless well. His eye, which he lost, was replaced by a near perfect replica. No one who didn’t know him closely would ever notice.

At the time of the incident, Shera’s family was going through a transitional period– namely, her and Cregan’s father passing away while they were both underage, the following legal battle over inheritance with their uncle and just things that no kids should go through. It was the catalyst of Shera’s subsequent anxiety and myriad of following issues.

She didn’t even approach him further that day in the hall. She said nothing to him, merely turning on a heel and leaving.

That was eight years ago.

“Jace, my god,” Shera gaped, eyes wide. He certainly wasn’t a kid anymore and had put on some muscle mass– she assumed from playing hockey with Cregan (even if he was still dwarfed by the absolute unit of her brother). He had those unruly chocolate colored curls, oh-so reminiscent of his rumored father, Harwin Strong. But that was a touchy issue within itself and best left unsaid. 

“Shera!” Jace went in for the hug right away, squeezing the poor girl tight. “You look fantastic.” It felt like an obligated lie. 

“Thank you… um, what are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Oh, I’m always around this place most times or another. I DJ on the side when I’m not on the ice. Mom made a spot for me.”

Mom? What did Rhaenyra have to do with this?

She must have looked visibly confused. “You know this… is my family’s place, right? New Valyria?” 

It hit her like a train– a freight train that smacked into her and kept on going until there was nothing left of her but Shera-shaped dust. “Oh.”

“Cregan didn’t tell you?”

Her brother scratched a hand behind his head, looking somewhat sheepish. It was a weird look on him. “I… may have not. I wasn’t lying per say–” 

Shera opened her mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by a cup being slid her way by the bartender. Without looking, she lifted it to her lips and took a deep gulp. It was, in fact, her cranberry juice– but it had been mixed with vodka. Heavily. She suppressed the urge to spit it out and looked back up. “I asked for just juice.”

“It was sent from the gentleman over there,” the bartender pointed to a small alcove adjacent to them where none other than Aegon fucking Targaryen was sitting, legs splayed out like he owned the place (well, he did in some capacity, she supposed) and a lady on each arm. He had the biggest shit-eating grin she’d ever seen, staring right at her. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she put a hand on her forehead. “I’m leaving, Cregan. I don’t give a shit about the deal anymore.” 

“Shera, we’ve been here for five minutes–”

“Five minutes. It took five minutes for someone to somehow recognize me in this stupid red lighting– and not just someone, no, one of my childhood friends who hasn’t spoken to me in eons and is looking at me like I’m his next meal. Not to mention, my shithead brother didn’t mention that the club he is forcing me to go to is owned by said childhood friend’s family. I should’ve fucking guessed it with the red and black dress code, fucking pretentious. No offense, Jace,” she murmured, taking a breath. “I’m done.” she gathered her purse, slipping off of the seat. That vodka must’ve gone straight to her head, as she’d never been so adamant about something. Fuck it. She threw back the remainder of the glass of vodka cranberry (regretting it immediately) and flipped her brother another rude gesture.

She was so blinded by red– not just the color scheme, but the rage she felt bubbling as she rushed to the exit. The rage and anxiety was a more powerful cocktail than anything they served at the bar as she pulled out her phone with trembling hands, trying to call an uber. She didn’t look up the whole time, somehow managing to almost reach the gate to salvation– before she ran head first into a very hard body. A very hard body with a pointy fucking necklace on that stabbed her in the forehead. The force of her stumble was catastrophic, for her, as she fell to the ground on her ass. The hard body stayed upright, only shaken a little.

A heavily tattooed and, ahem, large calloused hand reached in front of her. She took it, half expecting to pull her own weight up, but was easily lifted to her feet. The hand was warm. Unnaturally warm. The smell of cigarette smoke and… sandalwood blew out her senses. She could feel his breath on her face as she swayed slightly into him– he was looking down at her directly, pupils boring holes into her. The heat of the situation rose into a fever pitch as they were practically pressed together, his hand straying to the small of her back so she wouldn’t fall over again. It felt terribly intimate.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry— I… the… I’m sorry,” she stammered, trying to get out some sort of explanation to why she’d accidentally used this person as a springboard, but it just came out in a string of unintelligible ramblings. Her heels clicked on the floor, stumbling back and forth.

“It’s fine,” he replied. The voice sounded familiar, but still somewhat faraway in her mind. “Are you alright? You seem… unsteady.”

 She wouldn’t be surprised if she had given herself a concussion from face planting into… she glanced up, eyes trailing the body before her. He was tall with expensive Italian leather shoes and impeccably pressed slacks. His shirt was red and only half buttoned, leaving a small patch of sheer white-blondish chest hair. His hands, which dwarfed hers, were inked in tattoos that seemingly stretched his body, peeking out on his exposed torso. 

The offending pointy necklace revealed itself; a golden pendant of a Seven-Pointed star. Her stomach dropped into her feet as she realized exactly who it was. 

Fuckfuckfuck. Meeting his gaze, it was none other than Aemond Targaryen. Her former best friend, companion, partner in crime. She expected his face to twist into a sneer like it had before at school and she wanted to vomit. I have to get out of here. 

“You’re bleeding,” he pointed to her forehead where she had consecrated herself with his pendant. A bit of blood was trickling from her skin. 

That is what he has to say? You’re bleeding? No hello Shera, hi Shera, I recognize you Shera? A frown made home on her face as she realized he might not even remember her. 

“Um, it’s… it’s fine,” she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand, feeling it being replaced with new droplets. “Sorry for running into you, sir.” Sir? What the fuck is wrong with you, Shera? 

“At least let me help you get cleaned up, yeah?” Aemond pressed, tilting up her head to most likely observe her wound– but it also felt like he was sizing her up, checking her out. “Only if you call me sir again.”

She made a garbled noise of surprise at his last comment, her mouth opening to try and spew out some half-assed cheeky reply. “I… I guess,” she murmured. She really just wanted to go home and cry and never leave the house again— but that stupid and childish part of her brain that hadn’t resurfaced itself since leaving school was nagging her. It felt sickly euphoric to her to see him again. She hated to be objectifying, but he had grown up to be, quite frankly, gorgeous. “S-... sir,” she squeaked out lastly, finally thankful for the gaudy lighting– without it, Aemond would’ve seen her face lit up like a tomato. 

He nodded with a ‘hm’ noise, leading her down a hallway to the far side of the Pantheon. It was lit up normally with sconces on the wall giving clear white light. It was obviously a staff-only path. 

Okay, Shera. Breathe. You can get through this. Let him put a bandaid on your head and hopefully not recognize or remember you and you can be on your way. You always wondered what he grew up to look like and now you know! Here is your little Aemond fix to mend the Aemond sized hole in your heart. Then you can move on and totally not wallow over this for weeks.

The office was nice– it was his, she knew instantly. It had tall bookshelves filled with different philosophers and big named authors, no doubt some of them first or second editions worth thousands. Shera felt like she was intruding, like she didn’t belong. She didn’t, really. Swaying side to side, she awaited further instruction.

“Come,” he said, not so much asking. He seemed to lack some manners these days– Alicent must be aghast.

She shuffled and took a seat in one of the chaise velvet seats in front of the desk. She fluffed into her coat, wanting to just hide, her muddled mind replaying the way he spoke. Come, come, come. Christ, I need to get laid– maybe I should call Helaena. The lights, still a bit low, weren’t a scathing fluorescent color like on the club floor. He could most certainly see the scar running down her face– and the fear she held in her eyes. 

Even though it was plain as day, he didn’t say anything. He opened a first aid kit, dabbing her forehead with peroxide soaked gauze, his expression watching her every movement. His gaze was almost snake-like, unblinking as he observed.

She hissed at the sting of it, gritting her teeth slightly. He only gave an answer of a slightly knit brow. 

It was silent— save for Shera’s quiet and slightly wheezy, squeaky breathing. Her hands were clenched on her knees, her dress riding up her skin, which she was constantly tugging downward. As he shuffled closer, one knee knocked between her two shaking ones. Was that an accident? The creeping heat only seemed to grow.

The soft beat of the music from the club coupled with the blood rushing in Shera’s ears made her want to scream. Everything seemed in slow motion as Aemond, still apparently a painstakingly asinine perfectionist, took his sweet time to patch her up. This gave her time to watch him in turn, focusing mostly on the way his lips were upturned, cupid’s bow taut. Flicking back up to his eyes, they were looking back and forth from her lips to her own gaze. The air around them seemed to go stagnant. Holy fuck, does he want to kiss me or do I have something on my face? 

Her eyes must’ve read confusion, panic, elation and all the things in between that go with wanting to kiss an almost stranger in a club– but he wasn’t exactly a stranger to her. But, she supposed she was to him. His fingers tilted her chin upward and his lips curled into a smug grin, auto completing her thoughts. 

He pressed a bandage to her forehead, mouth open to say something, like he was going to do something, but he was caught off guard by the door to his office slamming open. Shera didn’t even look to see who it was— she was more focused on the fact that Aemond goddamn Targaryen had a tongue piercing. She felt like she was going to melt.

“Hey Aem, that fuckin’ slag bit me— do you think I should go get a rabies shot or something?” a slightly slurred voice drawed. “Ohhh, shit.” Aegon stumbled into the room, leaning on the doorframe. He was, in fact, bleeding from his neck, some very prominent bite marks marring his skin, coupled with vicious looking hickies. 

“Busy,” Aemond grunted, focusing his gaze back on tending to Shera. 

“Like busy or… busy? I don’t see your hand up her skirt or anything, so you can’t be that busy.” 

“Fuck off, Aeg,” he continued, gritting his teeth in annoyance. “Seriously.” 

“Well, Criston wants to talk to you ‘bout throwing that girl out— since it is your management night, eh?”

The smallest breath of annoyance slipped from the younger brother’s lips. “I’ll be right back.” 

Aegon still loomed in the doorway after he left, staring at Shera. “You didn’t like my drink?” 

“I don’t really drink.” 

“And yet… you’re at a bar where they serve alcohol.” 

“I’m trying to leave,” she sniffed.

“Not hard enough apparently,” Aegon flicked open a lighter, taking a drag from a suddenly lit cigarette. “You look like a lost pup, Shera.” 

“You remembered me.” 

“I may have the IQ of a golden retriever but I’m not that stupid. I couldn’t exactly forget your bird’s nest of red hair or himbo of a brother. Seriously, all those body slams from hockey must’ve damaged his brain.” 

Shera snorted a little laugh. “Aemond doesn’t even seem to recognize me— or, he hasn’t said anything.” 

“He’s got his head too far up his own ass to recognize anything other than cunt. He’s more of a whore than I am these days,” he took a deep drag, puffing smoke out into the hall. “Don’t be surprised if he fingers you before he even asks for your name.” 

An unfamiliar feeling churned in Shera’s stomach. “I… I gotta go.” she huffed, grabbing her purse and walking past Aegon. She was biting down so hard on her lip that it started to bleed, the metallic taste savoring like lead on her tongue. 

She makes her way through the throngs of people, everything around her a blur. It seemed that Aemond didn’t remember or recognize her– fine, that was fine. She didn’t expect him to– who would, really? Her eye unwillingly caught a glance of his figure again on the outskirts of the club. He was talking to a woman dressed in a sparkling red dress, looking like Jessica fucking Rabbit. His hands eclipsed the woman’s hips as they were leaned close together, clearly in some sort of heated conversation. 

 Her throat felt slightly constricted as she pushed out of the exit door into the alley. Has she misread his signals? They were totally about to kiss before Aegon came in, right? 

He’s a bigger whore than me these days.

Fat tears rolled down her face unwillingly as she leaned on the brick wall of the alley, fumbling for her phone again. Why did it hurt? It was stupid, she was stupid– they hadn’t seen each other in eight years and he didn’t even recognize her– so why did it sting to see… that? 

She texts for an uber rather than calling as her emotions are in no place to talk to someone. She drops her phone on the concrete several times by how much she’s shaking– she doesn’t even hear the door of the club close with a creak behind her.

“You left. I wasn’t done patching you up,” Aemond slunk around into her line of sight, head bowed low to try to look at her face.

She swiveled to the side to hide her expression and distress in her phone. “... had to go, sorry,” she whispers, trying her best to sound like she wasn’t crying.

“I didn’t mean for him to interrupt us– my brother’s an idiot,” he was chasing her face. “Let me see.” he put his hand on her cheek and turned her face to him again. She let him, forever putty in his hands. If only he knew. If only he really cared.

His thumb wiped away some of the tears. “It doesn’t hurt that bad, does it?” he whispered, getting close to her once more like they were in the office. “I can always kiss it better, hm?” 

It felt like an invitation, the opening of a letter of acceptance to some grandiose college she could never afford, never fit into– but for one moment, she decided to bask in it. Let the hurt come later; it always comes later. He had been interested in some capacity. Not in her, not really her, but for some anonymous club fling. 

Fine.

“Why don’t you, then?” she returned, eyes half lidded under his heavy gaze.

It was all the consent he needed– their lips melded together, all tongues and teeth. It was borderline obscene, like they were attacking each other. His hand threaded through her hair, tongue tracing the outline of her cupid’s bow before tangling into her mouth. She felt the ball of his tongue piercing meld against her. He tasted like coffee and cigarettes– on anyone else, Shera would find it unpleasant, but she was so intoxicated on the idea that Aemond’s tongue was in her mouth, she didn’t care. She even would say she liked it.

Heat kindled between the two of them, coming to a roaring flame as he slotted his leg between her legs again– before must have just been a prelude, as he didn’t give any indication that his knee pressed against her clothed core was an accident. No, it was pure intention. He lofted some of her weight onto his leg, encouraging her to chase her pleasure, hand riding up her dress to grip her bottom firmly. 

She gave an experimental roll of her hips, finding her arousal and ever growing wetness to only increase, whimpering a small moan into his mouth. He, apparently liking that, pulled her back from his face by her hair, staring down at her like he wanted to commit her expression to memory.

“Come on,” he growled, voice husky against the shell of her ear. “Ride my fucking leg.” Aemond’s lips connected with her skin again on her neck. 

It felt like a lightning bolt struck her right in her core, making her toes curl and tingle. Her mouth was open as she pleasured herself on him, using him– she was approaching her end almost embarrassingly fast as he angled his leg a bit more upward, pinpointing all the pressure onto her clit, which at this point, was barely even guarded behind her panties. Aemond’s hand on her bottom slinked the elastic of her underwear until he reached the front, two fingers swiping down her soaked folds. 

“Soaked for me, are you?” he asked, parting her underwear to the side to rest against her thigh, her bare cunt now in direct contact with his clothed leg. She was surely making a mess on his expensive slacks, she didn’t even have to look. He quirked a brow and laved his tongue over one of the fingers that had just slid through her wetness, testing the taste. 

Her brow furrowed and the building heat, the harp’s string right in her core, came undone with that. She wanted to moan his name– she almost said it. “A–,” she cried, burying her face in his shoulder as she rode out her orgasm on his leg. 

“That’s a good girl,” Aemond praised, his words of affirmation going straight to her core. She did, unfortunately, have a praise kink. “Can you stand?” 

“Mmh– y-... yes,” she replied as he took away his leg– but not before sending her into slight overstimulation with a cheeky bump to her clit. 

“Good, stay there, love,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead (which felt strangely familiar out of this supposed random club hookup). “Wanna taste you now. You can give me one more, can’t you?” 

Her legs wobbled as he got down on his knees in the back alley on his no doubt designer pants (now painted with a souvenir from her) to eat her out. She could barely speak, just nodding.

“That’s right,” he hummed, squeezing into her thigh as he spread her legs. She was dripping right into his mouth as his warm lips made contact with her– he teased her slightly by blowing on her bare skin, chuckling as she squirmed and whimpered. “You’re too cute.” his tongue flattened and laved over her cunt, not letting a drop of her arousal go to waste as he went to town. He continued his teasing by edging just around her clit, making her chase his mouth slightly as he moved to suckle just outside of that spot.

It was torture. Sweet, sweet torture as he edged her for a good two minutes while she was already on the edge again. The coolness of his tongue piercing sent chills up her spine as he finally, finally began to zero in on her pearl, the ball of the piercing dancing around it, stimulating her to a delicious peak. 

“P-Please, please, please,” she whined, fisting his hair. 

He had the audacity to look up at her, face first in her thighs, and wink at her. All remnants of teasing were gone as he began to feast, focusing solely on pulling out her second orgasm. It didn’t even register to her, as she was clenching around nothing, tears welling in her eyes from the sheer intensity of her peak, that he hadn’t gotten off yet– she had hardly touched him. He was focusing all on her.

She went boneless for a moment as she came down from her high, almost moaning his name again. He held her until she came back down to earth. 

Her hands fiddled to his belt, she desperately wanted to return the favor– 

“Your uber’s here, love,” he murmured, helping her out of the alley to the car awaiting. She looked down, realizing her phone had been unlocked on the uber ETA screen. 

She was spinning still, reeling from the entire interaction. Next thing she knew, she was sitting in the back of her uber as Aemond stood, door in hand. 

“Bye, Shera.” he grinned, closing the door.

He knew the whole time.

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond angst #my writing #aemond targaryen x oc #banshees lament #banshees lament au #shera #shera and aemond

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[smileysuh]

send in the clowns - TEASER

🌙 staring. Hyuck & Mark & Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “She’s not the reason we’re dressed as clowns,” Hyuck is quick to insist. He’s such a good liar. Jungwoo would almost believe it, if you hadn’t told him your Halloween clown plan. It’s no secret to you that your three frat friends all have crushes on you, so you’d decided to tell Jaehyun about wanting to fuck a clown, just to see who would actually follow through with the costume. You’d expected one, maybe two- but here are all three men, dressed as exactly what they are: clowns. And it’s obvious to Jungwoo that they think this is their own idea. As if you’re not the puppeteer behind this all. God, Jungwoo loves having you as a best friend, even if your bucket list includes a frat clown Halloween orgy with three of his best friends.

tw/cw. clown kink? orgy, foursome, unprotected sex, semi-inexperienced reader, oral, blow jobs, pussy eating, cum eating, squirting, fingering, masturbation, guided masturbation, spanking, choking, spit-roasting/Eiffel tower, cum/filling kink, praise, dirty talk, first time anal, cock warming, double penetration, triple penetration, multiple reader orgasms, dacryphilia, overstimulation, deep throating, face grinding, etc… I pet names: (hers) barbie, babe, baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 10.6k

🍭 aus. Halloween, frat au, friends to lovers, Joker!Jae, Buggy!Mark, Pennywise!Hyuck, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm not sure I can even explain this one tbh

“How long…” Mark leans close again, and his lips brush over your ear, “How long have you known we’re all into you.”

“You’re not great at hiding it, Mark,” you laugh.

“And you really don’t have a favorite?” he asks, pulling away to look you deep in your eyes. 

“Do I seem like I have a favorite?” you counter.

“It’s obviously me,” Hyuck says loudly, pulling you back even tighter. “I’m everyone’s favourite.”

Mark ignores Hyuck, his gaze dipping down to your lips then back up. Even in a sea of bodies, with Hyuck rubbing against your ass, something about being pressed to Mark’s chest while he stares at you like this feels intimate. He’s so pretty, especially with the clown makeup and the blue hair- it gives him this dangerous edge, but below the layers of red, white and blue, this is still Mark, one of the softest men you’ve ever met.

You can’t help yourself, you lean forward, reaching for Mark’s shoulders-

He practically smashes his mouth against yours, and you realize how eager he is by the way his tongue immediately swipes a lick at your lower lip. His fingers dig into your hips, tugging you closer and away from Hyuck-

A second mouth finds your skin, with Hyuck groaning against your throat. The sensation makes a shiver run through you, and you part your lips for Mark, who dips his tongue inside. 

You truly can’t believe your luck tonight. As you cling tighter to Mark, enjoying Hyuck’s rough hands on your body, you almost forget about Jaehyun- but as soon as he pops in your mind, you pull away from the roommates, turning to look for your Joker.

He’s no longer standing by the dance floor, he’s walking away, and your heart lurches in your chest.

“Jae-” you say, tugging away from Mark and Hyuck to chase after your favorite classmate. If you’re being really honest with yourself- you’d told Jae about wanting to fuck a clown because out of all three, he’s the one you could see yourself really going the distance with.

Jaehyun has two years on Mark, and three on Hyuck- he’s the most mature of the three karaoke fratboys you’ve been thirsting over. There’s something about him that’s always made you feel calm- in contrast to the chaos Hyuck brings, and the warm fuzzies Mark gives you.

You like them all in different ways, you suppose, and you can’t stand the idea of losing even one of them from your hook tonight.

“Jae!” you call again, louder this time as you follow him- catching up just as he makes it to the stairwell door. He turns to look at you, and you blink. “Where are you going?”

“Needed a stronger drink,” he muses, scanning your face. “You’ve got a little something, here-” he reaches, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb over your lips, “And here,” his fingers smooth across your neck.

“Oh-” you go to wipe at your skin, only to find white and red makeup on your hand.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.5k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr October 27th, 2023

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

there's limited tag space, respond/reblog to ensure a tag :)

#nct #nct smut #mark lee #mark lee smut #donghyuck #donghyuck smut #haechan #haechan smut #lee donghyuck smut #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #frat nct #frat nct smut #frat mark lee #frat haechan #frat jaehyun

[elizabethwritesmen]

i don’t want you like a best friend

┏ •◦இ•◦ ┓

Pairing: College!Steve Harrington x Reader ALSO Ghostface!Steve x Witch!Reader (costumes)

Summary: You’re in Indiana for college. You just happen to be roommates with Steve Harrington’s best friend, Robin. This is a list of the times you bumped into him, starting with July move in day and ending with a friend’s Halloween party.

Warnings/Notes (PLEASE READ) : SMUT 18+, pining, friends to lovers, Robin being intrusive, Robin’s parents also being intrusive, angst, Halloween if ur into that, ghostface!Steve x Witch!reader (costumes obv), also if ur name is Grace this isn’t the fic for you just trust me on this, this is semi-modern I don’t mention time periods at all but I also made no attempt at historical accuracy so do with that what u will. it’s all make believe it doesn’t rlly matter imo. also this is a college au so I made up college friends for them! ALSO i have plans for another halloween fic, a super spooky super sexy one, but it will go up late prob sometime in late. november because i’ve put all my energy into this one and staying alive lol. enjoy! <3

┗ •◦இ•◦ ┛

•Move In Day

I stared blankly at the boxes in front of me. The U-Haul I’d rented was jam packed with furniture and all of my belongings, leaving barely enough room to breathe.

For some reason, I thought it would be easy. I thought I could girl-boss it, get it done, all in a few hours’ work. Clearly I was temporarily insane when I came to that conclusion. Oh, well. Now I didn’t have a choice.

I sucked in a deep breath before resigning myself to my fate and starting.

I carried in the lightest stuff first, wanting to get it out of the way. I figured once I got through all the heavy stuff, I wouldn’t have any energy left for it, so might as well do it first. I got about four boxes upstairs, and I was bringing up a fifth and sixth, when I noticed the door already opened. I was sure I had shut it.

I walked in to see a girl and a guy, both around my age. She was dancing around, placing boxes of her own on the other side of the room. I cleared my throat gently, placing my boxes on the rest of my things.

She snapped out of her trance and her eyes landed on me. As did those of the guy she was with.

“Oh, hi!” She smiled brightly, “You just be my roommate!”

“Must be,” I sent her a polite smile in return, but mine was a lot more shy and reserved, “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Robin, and this is my best friend Steve,” she introduced, “He’s helping me get all my things up here.”

“Oh, nice to meet you both. Let me know if I can help with anything!” I offered.

“Oh no, that’s fine, I’m sure you have your hands full! Are your parents here helping you?”

“No, just me. I’m new here, so… I don’t really have anyone,” I shrugged, preparing to head back downstairs when she stopped me.

“Hey, wait!”

I turned around, staring at her expectantly, eager to get back to carrying my boxes upstairs. I didn’t want to be rude, but.. there were so many.

“My parents will be here soon to help me, so why don’t you steal Steve?”

“Oh,” I stuttered, looking to Steve, “I couldn’t ask you to help me. Really, it’s fine, I can get it.”

“It’s no trouble,” he shrugged, “I’d like to. I’d hate for you to have to carry everything up by yourself. Besides, any roommate of Robin’s is a friend of mine.”

I breathed out a little chuckle and nodded, “If you insist.”

He followed me to the elevator, pressing the button for me and walking on after me. I expected awkward silence but there was none, he didn’t allow a single lull between his questions. He wanted to know everything, where I was from, what made me choose the school, what kinds of things I was into.

“Do you go here, too?” I asked him as we approached the U-Haul.

“Yes, I moved in yesterday. Robin helped me get everything to my dorm, but I’m on the first floor, so it was super easy. I figured I should help her anyway, though, even though she doesn’t need it.”

“She might not need it, but extra help is always appreciated. Or any help.”

“Is that your way of thanking me for helping you?”

“Well, it was either that or bake you a cake and there isn’t an oven in the dorm.”

“Raincheck on the cake, then,” he chuckled.

We talked the entire way back up, and I was shocked at how easy it came. I didn’t expect to click so well with him, and I silently prayed it’d be the same with Robin.

“There you two are,” she smiled as we walked back in, “Did he talk your ear off?”

“No,” I shrugged, “He talked the normal amount.”

“Yeah, the normal amount for a 6 year old on a road trip.”

Their dynamic was nice. They picked on each other, sure, but it was all friendly.

On the second trip down, Steve told me about his life. His high school experience, his hobbies, his hair. His friendship with Robin. I couldn’t tell whether or not there was something more than friendship there. I couldn’t help the small part of me that hoped not, Steve was really handsome and the nicest person I’d met in a while. But I definitely didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, and I was much too shy to ask. Besides, a guy like him probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway.

By the time we got back up to the dorm, Robin’s parents were there.

“Oh hello,” her mom smiled, “You must be the roommate! Y/N, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” I responded.

“Well I’m Robin’s mom, Melissa, and this is her Dad, Richard. It’s so nice to meet you! Oh, you’re just so pretty!”

“Thank you,” I grinned, a little overwhelmed with how nice the woman was being. She was pretty, much like Robin, and she’d aged well. But she also had a warmth about her that was comforting, welcoming even.

An hour later, they had all of Robin’s things up and unpacked. They didn’t even ask if I wanted help finishing up, they just got to work, carrying the last of my things up with Steve and beginning to open boxes.

“You guys really don’t have to do all this,” I mumbled, sheepishly. I always felt awful accepting help, overwhelmed with gratefulness to the point of guilt.

“Oh, hush!” her mom laughed, “We want to!”

It only took another hour to have everything in its place, and we all stared proudly at our handiwork.

“Thank you all so much for your help,” I smiled at the group.

“Of course!” Mr. Buckley patted me on the back, his grin charming, “And if you ever need anything else, you call us! Now, how about we all go get something to eat? I think we’ve worked up enough of an appetite!”

I at first assumed I wasn’t invited because, well, it’s Robin’s family and Steve has apparently been her best friend for years so he’s basically family too. I was new in all this and definitely didn’t expect to be having dinner with all of them. But when they all walked towards the door and I hung back, everyone turned to me, matching confusion on their faces.

“Come on,” Robin chuckled, “You think we’re gonna let you starve after all the work we just did?”

And just like that, we all piled into Mrs. Buckley’s car. I was squished in the middle between Robin and Steve. I wanted to give her the middle because she was so small, but she told me she would feel carsick from Steve’s cologne and she’d rather have the window seat.

“What’re you kids in the mood for?” Mrs Buckley asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve responded, and Robin and I agreed.

“I think there’s a barbecue joint a few miles down the road, let’s stop there,” Mr Buckley decided, turning to the back seat, “I know Robin and Steve like that, but is it okay with you, Y/N?”

“Of course,” I nodded, still shocked to be included in the dynamic.

Mrs Buckley almost missed the driveway to the restaurant and she slammed on her brakes and turned in at the last second, throwing me gracelessly into Steve, my seatbelt the only thing keeping me off his lap. He caught me swiftly as he himself hit the door, making sure I didn’t hurt myself in the commotion.

I risked a glance at him to see his eyes peering into mine, concerned and a bit discombobulated from the startle of it all.

“You okay?” he asked, and I nodded, staring down at his arm that was still around me. He cleared his throat, setting me upright in my seat as we pulled into a parking spot.

I turned to Robin, taking note of the huge smirk on her face. She was looking past me, eyes on Steve. Must’ve been some kind of inside joke I wasn’t part of yet.

We all walked inside together, and the hostess sat us at a booth, pulling an extra chair up to the end of it. I went to sit in it when Robin stopped me.

“Remember what I said about Steve’s cologne? And I get claustrophobic. You’d better sit by him, I’ll take the extra chair.”

I nodded slightly, sliding into the booth and letting Steve slide in beside me. I didn’t understand what the big deal was about his cologne, it wasn’t that strong. It was subtle but sweet, cinnamon overwhelming my senses and filling me with a warmth and comfort I craved. The kind of cologne that, when someone passes you wearing it, you stop and take a deep breath in, soak it up for all it’s worth.

Robin’s mom and dad, and Robin herself, were all giving Steve that strange smirk now, and I suddenly felt left out. I guess they were all in on the joke. Unlucky me.

We made small talk while we looked over the menus, picking what we wanted to eat.

“What’re you gonna get?” Steve asked, and I had to look up to realize his question was just for me. Robin and her parents were talking amongst themselves, completely ignoring us.

“I don’t know, probably just chicken fingers. I’m picky when I try new places.”

“Lame,” he tapped me in the ribs and joked, and I squirmed against his touch.

“It’s not lame! It’s a classic!”

“Let me guess, macaroni on the side?” he raised a brow, and I stared sheepishly at my lap, causing him to chuckle, “You’re pretty predictable, Grace.”

“That’s not my name,” I furrowed my brows at him.

“It’s a nickname. You know, Grace. ‘Cause you fell on me in the car. It’s irony.”

“Giving me nicknames already? My, how our friendship is growing,” I rolled my eyes, “If only it wasn’t such a rude one.”

“You can give me a rude one, too,” he offered, and I thought it over for a moment.

“Okay,” I nodded, “Box Boy.”

“Box Boy?”

“Yeah, cause you brought in all my boxes.”

“That’s the best you got?”

“It probably won’t stick, but I like it for now.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Robin cut into our conversation, wiggling her eyebrows at us.

“It’s a secret, that’s why we’re whispering,” Steve deadpanned, and she snorted.

“Well, you two keep your secrets, and we’ll keep ours.”

“Fine by me, I have a feeling your secrets are pretty dark.”

I stifled a laugh, taking a long sip of my soda.

The rest of the dinner was full of happy chatting and getting to know each other. It turns out I got along really well with all of them, and I integrated well into the little group.

“You know, Y/N, I’m really happy you agreed to come eat with us,” Mrs Buckley told me as her husband handled the check.

“I’m just thankful you invited me! And paid for my food. Really, you didn’t have to!”

“Now stop with the bashfulness, you’re basically family now!”

With that, everyone stood. Steve helped me out of the booth and held the door open for me on the way out. It was sweet, in an old time kind of way. I fought off butterflies, and a crush that I felt coming a mile away.

Robin’s family dropped us off, and we stood outside talking for a few minutes.

“I’m gonna go inside and crash, but you two kids say your goodbyes,” she waved her hands at us and walked away, leaving us in silence.

“So…” I started.

“So…” he repeated.

“It was nice to meet you,” I offered.

“You, too.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“Hopefully.”

“Soon.”

“Yeah.”

I paused, not knowing what else to say. He was making no move to ask for my number, of course he probably wasn’t even interested like that anyway.

“Goodnight,” I smiled.

“Goodnight,” he repeated.

He stood for a moment and I stayed there, waiting for him to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you get inside safe.”

I giggled, “Yes sir.” And with that, I walked in.

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was long, but finally I was approaching my door, and I walked through it sleepily. I collapsed onto my bed, trying to ignore Robin’s staring.

“So…” she sighed, “You and Steve, huh?”

“Me and Steve what?”

“You guys have got it going on!”

“Have what going on?”

“Oh my God, Y/N, seriously, the sparks could’ve lit a cigarette. Did you give him your number?”

“He didn’t ask,” I shrugged, “Besides. I thought you guys were a thing.”

“I’m into chicks,” she rolled her eyes, “And even if I wasn’t, I still don’t know why you’d think that. I forced you to sit beside him the entire day. You think his cologne really bothers me that much? NO. I wanted you guys to… you know…. hit it off!!”

“Well, I think he’s a little out of my league,” I shrugged, sinking further into my sheets sadly.

“He absolutely is not. And I promise he’s into you. He’s just not the best with girls is all. He’ll have your number soon enough.”

“You’re not planning on giving it to him, right?”

“What? No! I’m gonna make the little shit ask you himself!”

“If he ever does.”

“He will.”

•First Day of Class

I walked into the lecture hall, brows furrowed, trying to make sure I was where I was supposed to be. Yes, room 208, I concluded.

It was a large room, but it wasn’t completely full. There were only about 20-30 people there total. I, of course, didn’t recognize any of them, so I took a seat away from everyone else. Nobody even spared me a glance, and I felt comfortable in my solitude, until the heavy door opened and shut behind me and a figure looked over me.

I looked up to see Steve, just as handsome as the first time I saw him. He was wearing a pair of joggers and a yellow sweatshirt, and he pulled off the comfy look well.

“Why are you sitting over here all alone?” he asked, one perfect eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know anyone,” I shrugged, and he scoffed.

“Well come sit by me and the guys from my dorm. I’ll introduce you.”

“I think I’d rather stay here.”

“Really?” I nodded slowly, “Then you leave me no choice.” He plopped down in the chair beside me, setting his things down and getting comfortable.

“What’re you doing?” I asked him.

“Well I’m not just gonna let you sit all alone.”

“But I like being alone,” I huffed, “Plus your friends miss you!” I gestured to the three guys staring holes through us.

He glanced in their direction and nodded, and that’s all it took for them to pile over to us.

“Stevie! My man! You gonna introduce us to your lovely friend?” One of them asked as he took the seat in front of us. He held his hand out for me to shake and I took it carefully, sighing.

“This is Grace.“

“That’s not my name!” I groaned.

“Then what is your name?” the tallest of the guys asked.

“Y/N.”

“Cute,” he winked at me, and Steve rolled his eyes sharply. “Y/N, this is Tate, Drew and Johnny.”

They all greeted me kindly and I responded in turn, but there wasn’t much time to talk before an older man walked in, an air of authority in his step.

“Hello, all. I’m Professor Chomsky, I’ll be teaching this course,” he began. What followed was a list of rules, regulations, class schedules, and lesson plans dull enough to make my forehead hit the desk in front of me.

“This is awful,” Steve whispered beside me, and the other guys nodded, “Another hour of his voice might kill me.”

“Shh!” I hissed at him, trying my best to focus on what the man at the front of the room was saying.

“Oh, get off it,” Steve smirked, “You’re just as bored as we are.”

“I’ll have you know I’m absolutely riveted!”

“Lying isn’t a good look, Grace.”

Just then, Tate chimed in, “Why do you call her Grace anyway if her name is Y/N?”

“It’s an inside thing,” Steve waved him off, “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Yeah, because calling me ‘Grace’ to make fun of me for being clumsy is such a hard joke to understand.”

“I don’t like your attitude today, Grace,” he furrowed his brows dramatically, and I couldn’t help giggling.

We were all interrupted by the sound of Professor Chomsky’s voice, booming at us to be quiet. We obeyed, whispering quietly every now and then but mostly hanging on by a thread to his monotonous words.

The class ended about a half hour later and Steve and I went our separate ways. We ended up having one more class together, and the guys were all in there, too, plus Drew’s girlfriend Natalie and Johnny’s sister Elaine. Robin as well. It was the most fun of all of them. It also happened to be my last class of the day. As it wrapped up and we all packed up our things, Steve stopped in front of my chair.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asked me.

“Sure,” I nodded with a smile, throwing my bag over my shoulder and following him out.

We chatted on the five minute walk. I found that I didn’t want it to end, but I hoped when it did, he would ask for my number. Or something, at least, to make me think he was interested. Part of me knew he wasn’t, though. Not as more than a friend.

“Here we are,” I sighed as we approached the doors.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “So… umm.. I’m happy we have those classes together. It’ll be nice to hangout every week.”

“Yeah, and we seem to have a good little group going. I like everyone a lot.”

“Everyone likes you a lot, too.”

I swayed on my toes, staring at him, waiting patiently. For what, I wasn’t sure.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he proclaimed, his voice chipper. I nodded slowly. “You know the drill, I can’t leave until you’re inside safe.”

I rolled my eyes and gave him a dopey grin, walking in just as I had the last time.

• Hangout at Elaine’s Apartment

Days of hanging out with Steve in class passed slowly, and I soaked in every moment. I was trying desperately to keep what I felt at bay, but it proved difficult when he wanted to walk me home every day.

A month went by and it was Saturday. I woke up around noon, the week had been especially exhausting, and immediately started studying. Robin did the same, sitting at her desk beside me and rifling through her flash cards.

“How is it that he’s walked you home every single day and still not asked for your number?” she asked out of nowhere.

“Robin, we’re talking about biochem. Not Steve.”

“Believe me, Steve is a scientific anomaly, so it’s close enough.”

I rolled my eyes, “I don’t know, okay? It’s like I wait for him to make a move or something every day, but he never does.”

“Well isn’t there anything between you both? All the rest of us can see it!”

“There’s chemistry, or at least I thought there was, but now I’m sure it was just one sided. He’s just not into me like that.”

“Then why does he walk you home every single day and not me?”

“Well… you have another class after that so you couldn’t walk with us, and he probably just doesn’t want to walk that far twice a day.”

“You’re grasping at straws. The boy wants you.”

“Why are you so invested, anyway? It’s not that serious, Rob. We’re just friends, that’s fine with me.”

“I just…” she started, trying to form her words correctly, “Steve has never been good with girls. He had one girlfriend, in high school. She wasn’t the best. I mean, she was fine, and he was happy, but she hurt him and he.. well, the details don’t matter but anyway. He never really had luck with any other girls. He was always too caught up in something else. But now we’re out of that town and you can’t convince me that your coming into our lives was a coincidence. Steve deserves this, and I want him to have it. If he can just get out of his own way.”

“And if he can’t?”

“He will. Believe me. It’s just gonna take a big push.”

“I’d rather just be his friend than stress myself over it,” I shrugged, going back to my studying.

A couple hours later, Robin got a text from Steve telling her that everyone was hanging out at Elaine’s apartment and we should come.

“Wanna go?” she asked me.

“I don’t know, I have a lot of studying left to do,” I hesitated.

“I was only asking to be polite. We’re going,” she stated, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my closet. “And you’re not wearing those wrinkly old jeans and a baggy t shirt. Pick something cute.”

“I’m not really a ‘cute clothes’ girl.”

“Well, tonight, you are.” She looked through my closet, pulling out a yellow sundress I stole from my mom’s closet at some point in time. I had to admit, it was a beautiful dress.

“You’ll wear this with your white sneakers,” she instructed, leaving no room for argument so I just nodded. “Steve won’t know what hit him!”

“Honestly, he’s probably into Elaine.”

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s… well, she’s older. She’s smart, and beautiful, and she always dresses to impress. She’s just.. she’s got everything.”

“Yeah, that’s why I have a crush on her. But I promise Steve doesn’t.”

“Whatever you say.”

Before long, it was time to get ready. I put on a little makeup, just some mascara, blush, and lip gloss, and paired gold hoops and a gold charm bracelet with the dress, slipping on my sneakers and following Robin out the door.

We were supposed to meet Steve outside of his dorm. The plan was for him to drive us to Elaine’s. As we approached the parking lot, we saw him leaning against the driver’s door of his car. Elaine was right in front of him, and they were locked in what seemed like a deep conversation.

“What’s that all about?” Robin asked as we took a step or two closer. I stopped in my tracks, though, when Elaine leaned up and kissed him square on his lips.

My heart shattered into about a million pieces. It’s crazy how you never know how intense your feelings for someone are until they blow up in your face. Sure, it hadn’t been long since I met him, but everyone has had a crush that spiraled out of control way too quickly.

“Hey, love birds?” Robin called out, her voice accusing.

They broke apart, startled, and stared at us dumbly. No doubt Steve saw the hurt on my face, but I tried so hard to keep it at bay.

“Grace,” he started, making a move to walk over to me, but the scene was interrupted by the other 3 guys joining us.

“Okay, so how’s this gonna work?” Tate blurted as they approached, “I know Y/N and Steve always have to sit by each other, And Natalie will be on Drew’s lap in the back, so I’m assuming Robin is gonna squeeze in the back with us?”

“I’d rather ride on the hood,” she croaked.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, “I’ll ride in the back with you guys, Robin can sit up front.”

“Well, someone can ride with me,” Elaine offered, “And you’ll just have to ride uncomfortably on the way back instead of both ways?”

“I will,” Natalie offered, “Wanna join me, Drew? That way there’s room in Steve’s car for everyone?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, following her to Elaine’s vehicle.

“I still wanna sit in the back,” I shrugged, climbing into the middle and letting both boys climb on either side of me.

Steve stared into the car at me for a moment, fists clenched, before climbing in behind the wheel and pulling off.

The ride had the potential to be awkward, and if it wasn’t for Johnny and Tate, it would’ve been. They lightened the mood a lot. Between their jokes and banter, I felt comfortable a couple minutes in. It was only a ten minute drive, and it went by extra quick with them.

As Steve pulled in, the car lurched to the side and threw me onto Tate.

“Woah there, I see why Steve calls you Grace now,” he laughed as he helped me up. The spark I felt when it happened with Steve wasn’t there, but Steve didn’t know that, and he sent us a death glare through the rear view mirror.

Elaine pulled in right after us and lead us up a flight of stairs to an isolate apartment, quite large. It was a one bedroom two bathroom, but every room was huge.

“Mi casa es su casa,” she sighed as we walked in. “I’ve got drinks, card games, books to study, and lots of movies. Whatever you guys are into!”

“Let’s starts out with the drinks,” Johnny suggested, and everyone nodded.

Moments later, we all had a beer in our hands. Elaine suggested we save the liquor for after, and we agreed. We also all collectively decided we would play Cards Against Humanity until we were tipsy, and then we would watch a horrible movie together.

Music played from the radio in the background as we all settled into our spots for the night. Drew and Natalie on the bean bag chair, Johnny Tate and Robin piled onto the couch, and Elaine cozy in her recliner. That left only the loveseat for Steve and I, and I fought a scowl.

“Scoot over, Rob,” I gestured, but she refused.

“I wanna stretch out and be comfy! There’s plenty of room on the love seat!”

I rolled my eyes and flipped her off, walking begrudgingly to Steve and plopping down beside him.

“Is sitting by me really that bad of a thing?” he asked, and everyone stared at me, waiting for an answer.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just.. Robin was right. Your cologne is a lot.”

He almost looked hurt, but he shook it off as we started the game.

A few rounds in, Steve leaned back in his seat, accidentally shifting himself closer to me. I stared down at his leg, almost touching mine.

“You look nice tonight,” he mumbled so nobody but me could hear, “I’ve never seen you in something so… delicate before.”

“If you’re gonna compliment someone, it should be your girlfriend,” I shrugged off what he’d said and took a long swig of my beer.

“Girlfriend?” he furrowed his brows.

“You know. The girl you kissed.”

“Oh.” He stared at his lap. “Listen, Grace, that wasn’t -“

“I don’t want to hear it,” I shrugged, “Doesn’t matter to me. You guys are super cute together, I’m real happy for you.”

He looked taken aback but my tone told him he should let it go, and he did, taking a swig of his own beer and leaving me alone for the moment. The moment didn’t last long, though, because before long everyone was a little intoxicated from all the alcohol and his arm was resting on my shoulders. I couldn’t fight the way I fell into him, I could barely even fight the sleep.

“Movie time!” Elaine exclaimed, jumping up to find her favorite DVD. She picked a cheesy old scary movie that barely made sense, and we were all more than happy with it. Nobody wants to watch a good movie while they’re drunk. She settled back in as it began, munching on the snacks she’d brought out for everyone.

“Please talk to me,” Steve mumbled into my hair.

“Don’t want to,” I slurred out, closing my eyes and breathing him in. My actions didn’t match up with my words and I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Well then come here,” he sighed, grabbing me under my knees and pulling me into his lap. He rested me against his chest, holding me snugly, letting me get as cozy in him as I wanted. “Talk to me when you’re ready.”

If I’d been sober, I would’ve worried about cuddling with Elaine’s boyfriend right in front of her, but I wasn’t. I did spare her a glance, though, and she smiled at me. Strange. She didn’t seem to care at all.

“Shouldn’t you be snuggling with Elaine over there?” I whispered to him, my face nestled in the crook of his neck.

He pulled a blanket from beside the armrest and tucked it over me as he responded, “Let’s talk when we’re sober.”

“Wan’ talk now,” I hummed.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Grace. The closest thing I have to a girlfriend is you.”

“But y’kissed her and you never kissed me,” I pouted. I don’t know whether my attitude came from sleepy delirium or intoxication.

“You’re right,” he nodded, leaving it at that.

“Y’could if you wanted to,” I breathed out as I drifted off into sleep.

I woke up in the passenger seat of the car. Robin was driving, and I looked around frantically for Steve before realizing I was in his lap.

“Oh, hi,” I mumbled.

“Morning, sunshine,” he smiled, “Go back to sleep. I’ll make sure you get in bed safe.”

“I don’t wanna go back to sleep,” I whined, leaning up.

I glanced in the back seat. Johnny was on one side, half asleep leaning on the window. Tate was in the middle, texting someone, and Drew was on the other side with Natalie passed out on his lap.

“Why’s Robin driving?” I asked curiously.

“He didn’t want you sleeping on anyone else,” she smirked at us.

“Oh,” I didn’t know what else to say to that.

He ran his hand through my hair, playing with the strands, twisting them between his fingers.

“That feels good,” I hummed, leaning into his touch.

“Yeah?” he asked as he kept going, tugging the strands a little harder.

“Mmhmm.”

“Get a room,” Tate coughed from his spot in the back, and we all giggled.

Finally, Robin pulled into the parking lot of our dorms.

“Come on,” Steve sighed, opening the car door and helping me out. His hand stayed at the small of my back as he walked me to the door, steadying me when I swayed slightly.

“I’m gonna have the worst headache tomorrow,” I whined.

“Probably,” he laughed, helping me up the stairs.

Robin cleared her throat, “I’m gonna go upstairs and let you guys… talk.” We nodded and watched her go, then turned back to each other.

“I should probably go up, too,” I mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Okay,” he nodded, but he didn’t let go of me. “I want to talk to you about -“

“I don’t want to talk about Elaine, Steve. Just go.”

“But-“

“No. I’m still drunk and I’m tired and my heart can’t take much more tonight so please just go and we’ll talk about it another time.”

“Grace,” he started, and I could tell he was frustrated, but I was too. It sucked walking up on him lip locking someone else. I didn’t want to listen or get over it yet. Any explanation he had wouldn’t be good enough for me, after all, what excuse is there to kiss another girl if he liked me? The only explanation was that he wasn’t into me, and he was trying to let me down easy. Or trying to have both.

“Stop,” I put my hand on his chest and pushed him away slightly, “I said another time. Please go.”

He watched me for a few seconds, waiting for me to change my mind, but I didn’t. I wanted him to go. For the first time, I wasn’t lingering or giving him that look like he could kiss me if he wanted to.

“Okay. Just take my number in case you need anything tonight.”

I nodded slowly, handing him my phone. He inputted the digits and handed it back, then let me walk inside in peace. I made it all the way upstairs before finally freeing my emotions, and the alcohol in my system caused them to spill out of my eyes.

“Oh, Y/N,” Robin sighed, walking over to sit by me.

“I am so over Steve Harrington,” I huffed.

“You didn’t even hear him out?”

“It doesn’t matter what he says, it’s not gonna wipe the image of them kissing out of my head.”

She nodded, staying up with me a little longer before we both nodded off.

The next morning, I woke up to a message from Steve. Apparently he’d called himself from my phone so he’d have my number too.

Good morning. Just checking on you. You feel okay?

I read it over and over before turning the phone off, deciding not to respond. I could feel my head pounding and I couldn’t take extra stress.

I got up, preparing to go get some water from the vending machine, but when I opened the door I saw a convenience store bag on the outside handle. I opened it to see advil, water, and powerade, along with a note scribbled on the receipt.

“Figured you might need this.

Let me know if you need anything else.

Steve.”

My heart grew as I paced back in the room, sitting on my bed. I texted him to thank him, then fell back to sleep with medicine and hydration in my system.

• The Next Class

I ignored Steve for the rest of that day. I suppose seeing him kiss someone else made the walls build up around my heart, but all I knew for sure was that he couldn’t get through anymore. Of course, I was still a bit sad. I liked Steve a lot, but we were better off as friends.

I walked to class the next morning, running a minute or two late but I knew Professor Chomsky wouldn’t care much. When I walked in, Steve and the guys were in their usual seats, and I took mine right in the center of them.

“Morning, Grace,” Steve absolutely beamed at me. I grinned tightly and politely in return, and pulled out my books, not bothering to respond. It probably seemed a little rude, but to me, it was what I had to do. “You gonna keep ignoring me? I screwed up that bad?”

I glanced over at him, “You didn’t screw up at all. We’re friends, Steve. I’m happy when you’re happy and if you’re happy with Elaine then I hope you guys work out.”

“Saturday night you were practically crying, and now you’re giving me your blessing and saying you want me to date her?”

“I was drunk. I’m not anymore, and yes, I want you to be with her. I’m sure she’s a great girlfriend. Just what you deserve.”

“Unbelievable,” he scoffed, “You really just want to be friends?”

“Yes,” I nodded curtly, turning to my books.

The other guys were looking at us curiously, like we were a soap opera playing right in front of them. They looked even more astounded when I walked out at the end of class without waiting for Steve. I felt horrible. He was the sweetest guy in the world. But clearly he liked Elaine more, seeing as she’s the one he made a move on, and I wasn’t going to stand in their way. I was sure it would get easier with time.

The next class I had with him went similarly. He tried to talk to me, and I brushed him off. I didn’t ignore him, I just didn’t entertain him, and I could tell it drove him nuts.

I could feel Elaine watching us, watching him. She must’ve been wondering why he was so wrapped up in me instead of talking to her. I was wondering that myself, but I let it go.

“Are you ever going to forgive him?” Robin asked as we walked out.

“I already did. It’s just not the same. I dunno,” I shrugged.

“I think you should hear him out. He’s bound to have an explanation for that kiss.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want to hear it, Rob. It happened and even if I decided to go back to how it used to be, I’d still see him kissing her in my brain every time he got close to me.”

“I understand,” she nodded, and we parted ways as she headed off to her next class. I, however, set off for my dorm.

“Grace!” I heard from behind me, and I sighed, knowing only one person called me that.

I turned around to see him sprinting to me, “I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“Steve,” I sighed.

“No.” He seemed genuine, serious. “I care about you. Even if we’re just friends, I care about you. You don’t get to become one of my favorite people and then just cut me off. I’m walking you home. Like a friend would do.”

I stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Truthfully, I was delighted that he’d asked. I figured, with the way I’d treated him that day, he wouldn’t bother.

“So you and Elaine…” I started as we walked, genuine curiosity gnawing at me.

“Can we not talk about it?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Shouldn’t you be walking with her, though? How does she feel about our friendship?“

“Grace,” he warned, and I heeded, shutting up.

We made small talk the entire way, the awkward kind we weren’t used to. I hoped the “friendship” would come more naturally with time. After all, we’d been the best of friends for the entire two months since we met. And we’d never really been more than friends, so I wasn’t sure why this was throwing us off so much.

“Thank you for walking with me, Steve,” I said, preparing to walk away when he grabbed my hand.

“I really want us to go back to how things were before… what you saw.”

“I want that too, Steve. I just… can we forget everything and just be friends like we were?”

“Please,” he sighed, relief washing over him.

“But it can’t be quite the same. I don’t know if you realize how.. touchy, and close we are. Do you think maybe we could take a step back from that for a while?”

“If that’s what it takes to fix this, but I don’t want to. I hope you know that.”

“Steve, you have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s- well, she’s-“

“She’s what?”

“I can’t talk about it,” he ran his hand through his hair like he did when he was stressed.

“Of course. Well, when you’re ready to, we can go back to how it was. But for now, we’re just friends who don’t constantly sit by each other and hold hands and hug and walk together.”

“That’s fair,” he agreed, resigning himself to his fate.

With that, I left and we didn’t talk much for the rest of the day. He texted me, but I didn’t respond. I wanted him to get the picture.

• The Halloween Party

Another month passed slowly. Distancing myself from Steve was horrible. Every time the group hung out, he was agonizingly close, but I kept away and he respected my wishes and kept away from me, too. It almost itched, how badly I wanted to reach out and grab his hand. I thought it would become easier, but it didn’t. And the worst part was that the group wasn’t adjusting well to the new dynamic, constantly making jokes and comments about “me putting Steve in the dog house.”

Whatever had been going on with Steve and Elaine seemed to be over, they would chat but I never saw any PDA or even chemistry between them. In fact, she’d grown closer to Robin than anything, and when we would hang out, they would stick together. Natalie and Drew were a pair, and Steve would pack in with Tate and Johnny. I was sort of lonesome, but it was okay. Part of me wanted to just forget the kiss and go fully back to how it was, touching flirting and all. But as I told Robin, it was engrained in my memory and I didn’t really want him if he chose her first.

“Y/N,” Elaine snapped me out of my trance as we waited for class to start, all huddled up in our little group.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I was telling everyone about my Halloween party. It’s gonna be you guys, and a few older friends I have in my other classes. Not, like, a banger, but definitely a crowd and a good time. Interested?”

“Of course, do I have to dress up?”

“Well it is a Halloween Party,” she rolled her eyes at me, laughing.

And that was that. We all planned to go. She was having it at her parents’ cabin, about 45 minutes away from the campus. Obviously, she couldn’t do it at her apartment.

The days leading up to it, Robin and I looked for costumes. She decided to go as Velma, and she tried to convince me to dress as Daphne but I suggested that Elaine be Daphne instead, and they both loved the idea. I had a costume of my own in mind.

I dug in the back of my closet until I found a black peasant dress that I’d had for forever. It was long sleeve, and the sleeves were lace and flared at the bottom. The cut was low and accentuated the way the corseted middle pushed up my chest, and the skirt flared out but still highlighted all my curves in all the right places. I paired it with some ripped up fishnets, black boots, and a funky witch’s hat I found at the Halloween store that also had lace lining it. It was perfect, maybe even good enough to get the kind of attention that would help me forget Steve once and for all.

When the day came for the party, Robin went to Elaine’s to get ready and I got ready alone. I curled my hair, did my makeup perfectly for the first time in forever, and finished the look off with red lipstick. Then I got dressed, and I was ready to head out the door when I got a phone call from Steve, whom I was supposed to meet outside of his dorm so he could drive me, Natalie, and the other guys there.

“Hey,” I answered, “What’s up?”

“Hey, just letting you know, don’t walk over. I’m coming to get you. Natalie is gonna take her car, and the guys are going with her, so it’ll just be me and you.”

“Okay, you headed here now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in like two minutes.”

“I’ll be outside waiting,” I told him and we hung up.

When he pulled up, I was standing on the curb, all dressed up. My nerves were bundled up in my stomach, and I felt like I needed to throw up. What if he didn’t like my outfit? He’d never seen me so dressed up before.

He got out of the car and ran over to the passenger side, opening the door for me. I couldn’t miss the way his eyes scanned me, hungry and searching for every exposed patch of skin he could see.

He cleared his throat as he sat in his own seat, “You look….”

“Different?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Good.”

I smiled, sitting back. My nerves were still there, but they were eased by the way he couldn’t stop staring at me, glances out of the corner of his eye giving him away as he began the drive.

“What’re you supposed to be?” I asked, raising my eyebrow at his black t shirt and black jeans.

“I didn’t want to dress up, but Robin said I had to so I just picked up a ghost face mask.”

“Ghost face, huh? Chicks dig that.”

“That’s exactly what Robin said,” he laughed, “Billy Loomis does it for girls, huh?”

“I’m not telling you what does it for me, but nice try.”

“I see the new look comes with a new attitude.”

I blushed, covering it up by staring out the window. We were doing so well, just being friendly. Why was he suddenly flirting now? And why was I flirting back? I told myself to get a grip, and stayed silent for a moment, so he turned up the radio, taking my hint.

The rest of the ride was filled with silence, heavy with tension. I felt like a rubber band about to snap, the glances he was giving me sending me into overdrive but I pretended I was fine, crossing my legs and staring out the window.

I opened my door before he had the chance when we pulled into the parking lot. There were a good bit of cars, and it seemed like a little more than a crowd. I suppose Elaine’s intimate hangout had accidentally turned into a party. Steve noticed this as well, placing his hand on the small of my back as we walked in together possessively but I brushed him off, walking over to where Robin and Elaine were sitting on the couch.

Robin must’ve been over the moon with all the attention she’d been getting from the older girl. Just by the way they were sitting, I could imagine her pulse racing. Elaine’s legs were thrown over Rob’s lap, her arms wrapped tightly around her neck. If I didn’t know them well, I’d assume they were a couple.

“Welcome to my party!” Elaine grinned.

“It did turn into quite the event, huh?” I chuckled, glancing around.

“One person told another person who told everybody, I guess,” she shrugged.

“Where’s the alcohol?” I asked her.

“Through that door,” she pointed to what I assumed was the kitchen. I walked that way, running into Tate and Johnny on the way, so they walked with me.

“You look hot, Y/N!” Johnny grinned wide as he told me so. He wasn’t being weird or anything, he was genuinely just giving me a compliment, so I grinned in return.

“Really, who knew you had this badass in you? Red lipstick and everything? Poor Steve must be having palpitations,” Tate laughed, and the other nodded.

“Steve and I are just friends.”

“That’s what you want, not what he wants. He loooooooves you, he wants to smooooooooch you,” Johnny sang, tapping his fingers together in a kissing motion.

“I think you’ve had too much too drink,” I scoffed, pouring myself a cup full of whatever looked good and leaving them to go back to the couch. The only open spot was beside Steve, so I took it, sipping on my drink.

“You’re not gonna make yourself a drink?” I asked him, and he shook his head.

“Put on your mask, dingus. It’s a costume party,” Robin reached over and poked him, and he rolled his eyes as he did as she asked.

He looked good. I could feel my heart begin to race as he turned to me, and usually it would’ve made me nervous, but I just felt powerful in that moment. I knew he thought I looked good. I wanted to use it. I wanted to make him burn like I had.

I leaned in close to him, “Wanna play psycho killer?”

“Grace-“ he started, but I cut him off.

“Can I be the helpless victim?” I placed my hand on his chest, my fingers brushing over where hair peeled through the top of his v neck. I almost felt him shiver. “Please don’t kill me, Mr Ghost Face. I wanna be in the sequel!” I trailed my hand down his chest, scratching him lightly with my nails. As I approached his waist line, he grabbed my wrist sharply, halting my movements.

“You think you’re cute?” he huffed.

“You think I’m cute,” I smirked. I pulled my hand away from him and got up, leaving him there basically panting as I walked away.

I found Johnny and Tate chatting with a couple of other guys, and approached.

“Oh, hey! Y/N! I was wondering where you ran off to!” Tate smiled, welcoming me in.

“Just went to mess with Steve,” I shrugged, glancing at the other guys. One of them had his eyes on me, and I took the opportunity.

“Are you friends with these guys?” I asked him, leaning in a little closer.

“Yeah, I stay in the same dorm as them,” the guy nodded.

“Oh, neat! I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before!”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Plenty of time to make up for it,” he winked at me.

“What are you doing?” Johnny whisper yelled into my ear, “Steve is watching you!”

“Steve and I are just friends. He likes kissing other girls so I’m gonna go talk to another guy.”

With that, I stepped closer to the mystery man. “Wanna dance?”

He nodded, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the center of the floor where people were dancing. He turned me around and I began swaying with him, daring to glance over at Steve. He looked furious, absolutely fuming at the sight of me with someone else. I was thriving off of it.

All of a sudden, Elaine pulled me away from him, pulling me closer to the couches. The guy protested for a second but Elaine sent him a death glare and he backed off.

“Why are you doing this?” she sighed.

“Doing what?”

“Dancing with him. Steve is right there. You’re breaking his heart.”

“Steve kissed you, Elaine. Even if you guys aren’t a thing, even if it didn’t work out or whatever and he likes me now, it happened and I can’t just forget that. He liked you more than me or he wouldn’t have kissed you instead of me and I don’t want to be second choice.”

“But that’s not what happened! Steve and I were never a thing!”

“Well he must’ve felt something, because he sure did swap spit with you.”

“It was a peck,” she rolled her eyes and huffed, throwing her hands up dramatically, “And I’m gay.”

My mouth fell agape, “What?”

“I never knew. I mean, I always thought girls were cute or whatever but I never had romantic feelings for them. Then I met Robin and couldn’t think about anything else. Excuse my bluntness, but I’ve never wanted to scissor anyone so badly. Steve is so easy to talk to, I completely opened up that night. I asked him if I could kiss him to see if I felt anything. To see if it felt right, and he said yes and believe me, neither of us felt anything. It was just weird.”

“So you and Robin are together now?”

“Well… I’m hoping we’ll get together tonight, if you catch my drift.”

“And Steve never liked you?”

“Of course not. Y/N, he’s been head over heels for you since he met you. He doesn’t talk about anyone else, he doesn’t think about anyone else.”

“Oh God, why didn’t I just hear him out sooner when he tried to talk to me about this? I’ve screwed everything up!”

“Look at him. He loves you, it’s all over his face. You haven’t screwed anything up.”

I stared at him for a moment before thanking her and heading his way.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, standing directly in front of where he sat so my knees bumped into his bent ones.

“Why didn’t I tell you what?”

“About Elaine. If I’d just known-“

“I promised her I wouldn’t say anything to anyone until she was sure.”

“Still, you could’ve-“

“You were so upset about me kissing another girl, nothing but the truth would’ve worked.”

“Steve,” I sighed, “If I had known-“

“What would you have done?”

“I would’ve- Well, I would’ve-“

I couldn’t even complete my sentence, he cut me off at the jump, leaning in and slotting his lips onto mine. I was startled for a moment but he didn’t stop, and eventually I kissed back, savoring every second like it was the last. He pulled away as if he wanted to say something but I didn’t let him, pulling him right back in by his shirt and wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands found my back, pulling me closer into an arch and wandering, ghosting over my waist line.

We were cut short by cheers coming from beside us, and we backed away from each other just enough to look.

“It’s about damn time, dingus!” Robin huffed, wrapped tightly in Elaine’s arms. I blushed, hiding my face in Steve’s chest, and he leaned down to my ear.

“Come with me,” he whispered, and I nodded.

He lead me to the backyard, where a lake was glistening in the moonlight. There was a lake house beside it, cute and cottagey, like something out of a story book.

“Elaine is letting all of us stay here tonight,” he explained, “There’s only three bedrooms, though. So she told me we could stay out here.”

“She just assumed I’d be staying wherever you stay?”

“I mean, be honest with yourself, Grace. Even if we were still just friends, you’d rather bunk with me than anyone else here.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I shrugged, following him through the door to see that it was immaculately decorated. It didn’t have a real fireplace like the house did but it did have one of those huge automatic ones, so he turned it on, warming the place up. It was one room, there was a bed in the corner, not huge but big enough for the two of us, a TV above the fireplace and a couch in front of it with some other furniture scattered about. There was a closet and a bathroom, as well.

“We left the party awfully early,” I observed, turning to him.

“I have a night in a lake house with you, and you think I wanna waste it partying?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” I smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer.

“I’m in love with you, Grace. I haven’t loved anyone in a really long time, and maybe never like this. And I know it’s quick, but I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, stupid,” I rolled my eyes, pulling him closer until his lips met mine again and we fell into a dance of teeth and tongue.

He grabbed the fat of my hip, squeezing, the dress bunching up in his fingers.

“Fuck, Y/N, do you even know what this dress does to me?” he groaned, “Never seen you like this before.”

“I only bought it so you could take it off,” I rasped as his lips found my neck. At my words, he started sucking, leaving a mark I was sure would stay for days, and I moaned. Something about him wanting to claim me made me shiver, goosebumps littering my skin, my need multiplying.

“I can do that, baby,” he nodded, reaching behind me and pulling the zipper down slowly. He eased it down my shoulders, his fingertips brushing my skin and his eyes following their path. His irises got a little darker at the sight of the black lace covering my most sacred places, and he went ahead and undid the clasp of my bra, letting it fall with the dress.

“You look so pretty like this,” he sighed, staring at me for a moment, his gaze loving.

“Your turn,” I smirked, slipping my hands under his shirt and pulling it over his head. My fingertips clumsily attempted to undo his belt, and he stopped me, doing it himself one handed and throwing it on the ground. It was one of the hottest things I’ve seen him do. I let out a light moan, and he chuckled.

“Feel like a helpless victim yet?” he asked.

“You’re not wearing the mask, so no,” I shrugged jokingly, and he frowned.

“I can fix that,” he stated, walking to the table by the door where he’d set said mask. He pulled it on his head and my mouth fell slightly agape. He looked so perfect. So pretty.

“Want me to fuck you just like this?” he asked, and I nodded frantically. “Come here,” he grabbed my hips lightly, leading me to the end of the bed. He spun me slowly, “Bend over for me, baby,” he coaxed as he pressed on my back. I did as he asked and all I heard was a rip as he tore off the stockings, not worrying about my shoes.

I looked back to see him falling to his knees, then I felt his fingertips where I needed him most and I gasped. It was slow at first, just light touching, but I was absolutely dripping, desperately waiting for what I wanted.

“Steve, baby, please,” I whimpered, and he chuckled again.

“Anything for you, Grace,” he cooed, pushing one finger in. I let out a sigh and a moan, begging for more, and he obliged, pushing in another and eventually a third. Before long, he had a steady rhythm, pushing in and out of me in a way that had me ready to come apart.

“Please Steve, need it, need more, need you,” I panted, pushing back on him, reaching behind me to touch whatever part of him I could reach.

I heard a sharp zip as he undid his pants, kicking them off. His tip rubbed against my slit teasingly at first, then pushed in slowly, and I let out a shaky breath. He was huge, bigger than I’d probably ever had, and my walls were stretched deliciously. It didn’t help that I hadn’t done anything with anyone in a while. I’d been waiting for Steve since before I even met him.

“Please,” I whined, my voice a broken shell of what it was before he kissed me. He’d wrecked me already and hadn’t even fucked me yet.

“Here you go, baby. I’ve got you,” he sighed, setting a steady pattern of thrusts, hard and quick and perfect, everything I needed from him, His hands found my hips, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, and I met him thrust for thrust pushing into him like a woman starved.

That lasted for a little longer before he pulled out abruptly. I whined, achingly empty, but he stopped me short by grabbing my hips and turning me over. “Scoot back,” he instructed, “I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I wanna see yours too,” I hummed as I did as he asked, scooting all the way to the top of the bed and laying my head down like a true pillow princess. He nodded, ripping the mask off and tossing it aside, and I gasped at him in all his glory. He was so handsome, hair a mess on his head, a slight sheen of sweat making him glisten.

He climbed up on top of me, grabbing my leg and putting it over his shoulder. He leaned down and captured my lips as he pushed in, and I groaned, the new angle putting him in just the right spot.

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” I whimpered.

“That’s the point,” he smirked, reaching down to rub circles on my clit as he fucked me harder. “Such a good girl, gonna cum all over me?”

I nodded frantically, wrapping my free leg around his back and pulling him in farther, earning a deep groan.

“You’re so perfect like this, taking it so good. Who woulda known my quiet girl could take it like this?” his words spurred me on, making me see stars as the coil in my tummy got ready to snap.

“Steve baby need to cum, please cum with me,” I gasped, clenching around him as I finally snapped, and he groaned. He wasn’t very far behind me, and we rode out our highs together, staring at each other when we were done like a couple of lovestruck kids.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” he whispered for only me, and I giggled.

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t spent so long being jealous, this would’ve already happened.”

“I think it happened right when it was supposed to,” he smirked, kissing me on the forehead and walking to the bathroom. He wet a towel and brought it back, cleaning me up and then himself, then joined me in bed.

“Would you wanna, like, go on a date with me?” he asked, nerves clouding his voice.

I thought it over for a moment, leaving him in suspense.

“Of course. How about tomorrow?”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve smut #steve stranger things #stranger things #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve x reader #steve x you #stranger things smut #ghostface!steve harrington #ghostface

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Anything You Want | Steve Harrington

Mr. Harrington's Secretary AU | 18+ No Minors

Summary: Steve stops by when his father isn't in the office asking for your help with the copier.

TW: FemReader. BJ, Fingering, Tiddy Fucking, P In V Cream Pie. Dirty Talk.

WC: 3909

“Your father isn’t here, Steven.”

His name has you looking up from the thick file spread across your desk. Steve Harrington is standing across the room, his tall body leaning forward, one hand on the older woman’s desk, the other behind his back, holding a small paper bag.

“Well, aren’t you looking nice today, Lorna,” his words drip with sugar. The gray-haired office manager peers over her glasses at him, her ordinarily sour face softening faster than a ripe avocado. 

He’s been finding excuses to visit you at work since the first time he found you standing alone at one of the events the company threw semi-regularly. A bunch of rich men congratulating each other on being masters of the universe, dragging along their trophy wives and other accouterments. In John Harrington’s case, that included his charming, handsome son, who would follow in his footsteps, and the hot young secretary that everyone assumed he was chasing around the desk. What the other men telling bad jokes and drinking top shelf scotch didn’t know is that the son wanted nothing to do with his father’s business and the secretary wasn’t putting out. 

“Is that a new blouse?” He asks, brushing a little of that golden-brown hair off his forehead, giving her every ounce of his attention.

“It is. I got from the JC Penny last weekend,” she giggles like a woman half her age as he leans closer, giving her that winning Harrington smile.

“I thought so,” he winks, “My dad asked me to pick up a copy of the file he needs, and on my way here, I passed the bakery over on Main, so I stopped in and got your favorite.” He pulls the paper bag out from behind his back and sets it on the desk in front of Lorna. 

Her eyes widen, and her mouth forms an O as she pinches the top of the bag and slides it closer, “Thank you, Steven. That was so thoughtful.”

“My pleasure,” he says, rapping his knuckles on her desk twice before straightening and turning towards you, “Do you have that file ready?”

“Which file was that?” you ask, trying to hide your amused smile.

“I think you know,” his tongue darts out, wetting his plush lips as he casually strolls over to your desk.

“Hmmm,” you tap your index finger against your mouth, “Yes, I think I know which one. I still need to make a copy.”

“I can do it,” Lorna calls from her desk, the paper bag crinkling as she pulls out a fluffy cupcake piled high with chocolate frosting. 

“You just enjoy that. I’ll give her a hand,” Steve calls over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off you. 

Shuffling some papers, you pull a green file folder from the bottom of the stack and hug it to your chest as you push away from your desk, “Thank you, Steven. That would be very helpful.”

His lips twist with a smirk as he follows you down the hall to the copy room, watching your hips sway in the tight skirt that hugs your ass just right.

The overhead fluorescents pop and hum when you flip the switch and step inside the small room with Steve coming in after you, reaching back to twist the lock on the door handle without even looking. 

“Where’s my cupcake?” You ask, batting your lashes and tossing the file on top of one of the two copiers that fill the space.

“Your mouth is going to be too busy for cupcakes,” his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you close as his lips seal over yours. He wastes no time. His tongue pushes inside, stealing your breath. His muscles tense under your fingers as you move your hands up and down his polo-covered chest and moan into the kiss. 

“We have to be quiet, honey,” his kisses slow to soft pecks, “Can’t have Lorna figuring out your cumming on company time.”

“Oh, is that what’s happening?”

With his thumb and forefinger holding your chin, he ghosts his lips over yours, “Turn around and put your hands on the copier.”

Taking a moment to consider, you look up at him from under your lashes while letting your hand run down from the center of his chest to the hard bulge in his pants. The corner of your mouth rises when you feel him twitching in his jeans. With a shiver, you let him go and turn around. Exaggerating your movements, you place both hands on the glass plate arching your back and widening your stance as you lean forward. He drops down behind you, wrapping his hands around the front of your knees, drawing circles on the back with his thumbs. 

“That tickles,” you giggle, squirming in his hold. 

“Shhh,” he reminds you, lips placing an open-mouthed kiss on your calf. The slight roughness of his palms leaves your smooth skin tingling as his hands start their torturously slow slide up your legs, the tip of his nose dragging behind his thumb just before the wet press of his lips and tongue. He’s careful to leave no gaps, mouth a damp trail up the back of your thigh. The material of your skirt bunches against his wrists, rising with his hands. His thumbs tease the hem of your high-cut lace panties as your skirt is pushed higher until it’s rucked up around your hips. He nips the curve between your ass and thigh and soothes it with his tongue before brushing his nose over your center, breathing you in. Slick soaks your panties as you anticipate him pulling them to the side and licking into you, but those big hands stay gripping your hips, and his mouth moves along your pantyline, sucking at the flesh of your ass.

“Steve.”

“What is it, honey?” His question is followed by the pinch of his teeth. 

“I need you,” you complain, reaching back, running your fingers through his hair, giving it a tug when he pays you no heed. 

“So impatient,” he scolds, rising to his full height, holding you around the middle, sweetly kissing your temple, “Be good for just a little longer. I need a picture of my pretty girl for my wallet.”

“A picture? Wha-“

He spins you around quickly and cuts you off with his hungry lips, his hands slide down your waist until they wrap around the back of your thighs, and he lifts you onto the copier. A squeak of protest passes from your mouth to his when your hot skin comes in contact with the cool glass, and you rock from side to side, but he doesn’t relent. Holding you in place with a hand on your neck, his tongue tangles with yours, keeping you focused on his kiss as his other hand starts the copier whirring. A light flashes under you, moving from left to right, followed by the whoosh and click of papers printed with a black and white copy of the globes of your ass barely covered by your underwear. 

“That’s what you wanted?” you giggle against his lips.

“Uh-huh,” he smiles, ending the kiss by resting his forehead against yours, “but that’s not the only thing I want.” His hand smooths up your thigh until he can rub over the damp patch on your panties. His smirk returns when your mouth drops open, and you inhale sharply.

“You’re so pretty like this.” He moves his hand away from where you want it and uses the backs of his fingers to brush your heated cheek. 

“So soft,” his index finger trails from the collar of your silky shirt until he reaches the first button where it’s joined by the fingers from his other hand, “But not as soft as what’s underneath.” He leans forward, attaching his lips to your neck while he works them open. His mouth moves lower as he spreads open your shirt, kissing down the swell of your breast to the edge of the delicate lace. He pulls away to take in the sight of what he’s just uncovered.

“Beautiful,” the word floats breathy from his lips as he unhooks the metal clasp between your tits. Peeling back one side at a time, his eyes turn dreamy and heavy-lidded as he drinks you in. His hands move to cup your breasts, loving the way you fill them. The first touch of his lips against your pebbled nipple has the breath rushing from your lungs in a quiet whine. He sucks hard while swirling his tongue, a satisfied hum rumbling from his throat. 

“Oh, fuuu,” you bite down on your lip to keep from cursing. He smiles against you, taking his time before moving to your other side, sucking until you’re tipping your head back and arching into him. The copier creaks as you squirm, trying to relieve the growing ache.

“Please,” clutching at shoulders, pulling his head up so you can look into his eyes, “Please, Steve.”

His breath comes quickly through parted lips that hover an inch from yours. The inky black of his pupils crowds out the hazel. He reaches out to trace your kiss-stung bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, but you hold his large hand between both of yours and suck his thumb into your mouth. 

“How about a few more pictures? With my hands on you. Would you like that?” 

Whining in desperate confirmation, your hands join his on the copier to lift your hips and slide down your panties. They only make it to mid-thigh when you’re grabbing his hand and pressing it to your needy cunt. 

“Jesus,” his fingers part your wet lips to explore your slippery folds, “You’re dripping onto the glass.”

He curls back his other fingers, so just his index and middle circle your clit before sliding down to tease your entrance. Your grip on his wrist tightens as you whimper, rocking your hips, trying to get him inside you. 

“All this from a few kisses?”

Two thick fingers push inside you, replacing the ache with a stretch. He keeps going, curving his fingers to reach the spot that only he’s been able to find, deep enough that his thumb can rub circles around your pulsing bundle of nerves. It takes every ounce of your will to not cry out at the onslaught of pleasure. 

“There you go, honey. I’ll always give you what you want.”

Fisting the front of his shirt, you draw him closer, eyes fluttering closed as your lips connect and your tongue slides against his. Blue-green flashes permeate the darkness behind your lids as the machine captures images of his fingers disappearing inside you. More wetness trickles, aiding his movements when you realize all this is to satisfy his need to have you even when you’re apart.

“You make me feel so good,” you whisper, taking his bottom lip between yours.

“Yeah?” He asks, licking into your mouth, increasing the pace of his fingers, “Am I gonna make you cum?” 

“Mmmhmm,” you moan around his lips and tongue as your inner muscles tighten, and you begin your climb. With your fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck, you relax into his kiss. There’s no need to chase it, you can trust him to get you there. He always does. 

“That’s it,” he says, feeling you fluttering around him, “You get so tight,” his fingers don’t stop even when the lighting hits and your legs shake, “Give me just a little more.”

Clutching onto him, your fingers dig into his skin as your body jolts uncontrollably. He covers your mouth with his trying to muffle your cries, and keeps working you until you just can’t –it’s too much. His fingers slow to a gentle in and out, his thumb comes off your clit. He lets you come down, resting his forehead against yours, tiny kisses wherever his lips can reach without moving you. 

“I’m going to lunch,” Lorna shouts, her voice slightly muffled behind the closed door.

“Okay,” you yell, grinning at Steve, shaking your head, “We’re almost done.”

“She’s coming,” he calls, as his thumb taps your clit, sending an aftershock rocketing through you.

“Alright. Back in an hour,” she hollers right before the outer office door squeaks and clicks shut.

The smug look on his face has you pushing at his shoulder, silently scolding him. He chuckles, his face taking on a well-practiced look of innocence even as he pulls his finger from inside you and licks them clean. He kisses you once to share the taste before helping you down from the copier.

“Can you hand me my underwear?” 

“We’re not done,” his hands close over your fingers, stopping you from straightening your clothes, “I have an idea. Come with me.”

He twists the lock on the door handle, sticking his head out to confirm the office is empty, and grabs your hand pulling you out of the copier room, barely dressed. 

“Steeeve,” you squeal as you move through the empty office, gripping the front of your shirt to keep it closed until you’re standing in front of Mr. Harrington’s locked office door.

“Where did you get that?” Your eyes widen when he pulls a key from his pocket and inserts it smoothly into the lock. The corner of his mouth raises in a sly smile as the door opens, and he ushers you inside, closing the door behind you.

The blinds are drawn with their slats partially open, creating vertical lines of light against the navy blue carpet and large cherry desk. Steve flips one of the switches next to the door, turning on the three two stained glass lamps that flank the large built-in bookcase behind the desk, lighting up the room with soft light. 

“What’s this idea?” The slickness between your legs, reminding you still have another hour before anyone will return. Steve planned this well.

“Well,” he pulls out the high-backed leather chair from the desk, turning towards the side before sitting with his legs spread wide, hands moving to his belt, “What do you think? Wanna get on your knees for me, honey?”

“Hmmm,” you pretend to consider his offer as you round the desk trailing your fingertips on the shiny finish of the desk, moving until you’re standing between his parted legs, looking down at the outline of the hard cock straining against his jeans. Gripping the top of the chair, you lean it back, bending slightly, bringing you level with his face. His hands move to your open shirt, pushing it back away from your breasts so he can knead them. His mouth chases yours, but you deny him, nipping his top lip lightly before slowly dropping to your knees. 

“Fuck,” his hips jump as you pop open the button on his jeans and slide down the zipper.

“Is this why I didn’t get a cupcake?” You pout, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and he raises his hips so you can slip them down, his thick length bobbing out from his body finally freed. Pink with a long veiny shaft that’s just as pretty as the rest of him. 

“Oh, I think what you’re getting is a much bigger treat.” His eyes close for a moment as your hand wraps around the base, and you kiss the smooth, shiny tip. It’s your turn to smirk when his lids open revealing eyes that are almost black. Opening your mouth, you stick out your tongue, letting it sweep around the head before licking up and down the length. 

“Mmm,” the vibrations from your lips tease his sensitive spot, “I think you’re right.” You take another long lick before finally taking as much of him as you can into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks while your hand works the base.

A groan rumbles from behind his clenched teeth, “Look at you,” he smooths some hair back from your face as you bob up and down on his cock, “I bet every man in this office wants to see you like this, but you’re mine,” his hips rise, fucking into your mouth, “They can’t have you.”

Sticking your tongue out, you let him use your mouth until your jaw starts to ache. He doesn’t stop flexing when you switch to your hand, licking at his slit, running your tongue along the underside until reaching the base to gently suck one of his heavy balls. 

“Christ,” his fingers tightly grip the leather arm of the chair as the precum starts leaking from his tip, and you move your mouth back up his shaft, collecting it before it drips. He sneaks a hand between you, rolling your nipple with the rough pads of his fingers, the zap of electricity that shoots to your core, highlighting how wet and needy you’ve become. 

Pulling back, you rise higher on your knees, smiling as you run your hands up from your hips to the softness of your chest. Steve’s breath hitches, and his lips part as you lean forward, fitting his cock in the valley of your breasts, pushing them together, bouncing them up and down his shaft.

“Jesus-fuck-baby,” his words string together, his hips jumping in the chair involuntarily. A whimper comes from you at the sight of his rudy leaking tip sliding up your chest, your tongue snaking out to chase it. 

“Fuck, that’s enough,” he pants, using his feet to push the chair back, the wheels squeaking. He stares at you breathing hard, and you know how wild you must look. Hair a mess. Lips red and swollen. Clothes open and askew.

“Bend over the desk. I want to feel you squeezing me when I cum.”

Desperation launches you both into a flurry. Steve stands quickly, shoving his pants further down his thighs, sending the desk chair careening backward into a bookcase. While you’re off the floor, positioning yourself over the polished wooden desk, tugging your skirt high around your waist, pushing back your hips, ready to take anything he’ll give you. 

“Plea‐”

“I’m here,” he wraps a hand around your thigh, bringing one of your knees to the edge of the desk, opening your sticky wetness to the cool air, “I won’t make you wait.”

With a hand around his base, he glides through your folds, back and forth, making you throb until his tip catches at your entrance and pushes in slowly, letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. Your muscles stretch and clench, trying to draw him in deeper. 

“That’s it, good girl. Take it all,” he groans, moving until he’s bottomed out and his hips are pressed tight against you. Through the thick fog of lust and need, there’s a brief moment spent savoring the connection before he begins to move in long, hard strokes, pulling out almost all the way before driving in with the snap of his hips. The desk jerks across the carpet, and an organizer falls, spilling its contents, pens embossed with Harrington roll under the furniture. White dots burst in your vision with every thrust. You’re burning for him. He struck the match the evening you met, and you’ll never have enough. 

“This is where I belong,” his hand slides around your hip, pressing down just above your pubic bone, feeling himself moving inside you, “Right here in your warm cunt. Want you to feel me for the rest of the day,” his fingers move lower until they’re drawing circles over your clit, “I need you to cum for me.” 

His rhythm picks up, making the fire burn hotter. Your body tightens, obeying him without giving you a choice. Twisting to look over your shoulder, you grab at his shirt, bringing him closer until your gasping mouths meet.

 “Anything,” it’s a whisper against his lips, a spark from the blaze.

“What, honey?” The question rises with the smoke.

“Anything you want.”

A line creases his brow, and there’s something behind his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. He spins you back around, wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest, your knee falling from the desk. He’s holding you together when you’re so close to falling apart. His mouth moves up your neck to your ear.

“Just want this,” he adds more pressure to the hand working between your thighs. Tiny circles that feel closer to a cyclone, “Just want you,” he moves in short bursts like he can’t bear to leave, right at the edge, swelling inside you, “Always want you.”

You let go into the white-hot flame, but you’re not alone. It consumes you both. Crying out, you quake around him, feeling his hot release, hearing his satisfied groans. Your bodies writhe until all that’s left is embers. The wall clocks measured ticks seem louder, the only sound in the now quiet room apart from both of your shuddering breaths.

He presses a kiss to the silk covering your shoulder and begins slipping away. Your muscles contract in protest, trying to keep him longer, but he’s right. Once he’s gone, you can still feel him. He moves around you, helping you clean up, straightening the disarray.

“Why are you still here, Steven?” Lorna frowns disapprovingly at the way Steve is perched on the corner of her desk, with one of her picture frames in his hand.

“Is this your daughter?” 

She snatches the frame from his hand as you quietly make your way back from the restroom with all your buttons buttoned and hair smoothed back into place. Taking your seat you pick up the small stack of photocopies tapping them on the desk to straighten them. 

“Doesn’t your father need that file?” She questions.

“That’s right he does,” he snaps his fingers like he just remembered,” I better get going. I just didn’t want to leave this pretty girl all alone,” he looks over his shoulder at you, giving you a wink. She sighs loudly and goes about settling at her desk. 

The black and white images of his hands and your panties are hidden when you fold the papers into thirds before stuffing  them in an envelope and holding it in the air, waiting for him to come and take it from you. Looking smug, he wanders over collecting his prize from your outstretched hand.

“Listen,” he says, leaning close, keeping his voice low, “Can I take you out tonight? Buy you dinner?”

“Hmm, that depends, Steven,” you busy yourself with the files on the desk, “Is there going to be dessert?”

“I’ll pick you up at six,” the confident Harrington smile stretches across his face. He doesn’t say anything else, just a wave to Lorna as he disappears through the door, envelope in hand. Your eyes follow him through the window glass, watching as he ducks into his BMW and drives off.

“Ahem,” Lorna clears her throat, breaking you from your stare, “I’d nip that in the bud if I were you. That boy’s got a crush, and it’s gonna lead to nothing but trouble.”

“Of course,” you say, turning towards the screen of your word processor, fingers clicking across the keyboard as you type up a letter. Satisfied with your answer she goes back to her work. Glancing up at the clock, you count the hours until six, the ache between your thighs reminds you that trouble is exactly what you want.

@loveshotzz @superblysubpar @boomhauer @myobmaya @litereader

Secertary AU Masterlist Here

If you've enjoyed this fic, please reblog and leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you. Let me know if you'd like to see more of the secretary reader.

#stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #mr. harrington's secertary au #anything you want #steve harrington

[lovelybucky1]

Trailer Trash!Anakin NSFW Alphabet

this wonderful au was created in part by @fuckmyskywalker 🫶🫶

warnings: AFAB!reader, substance use (smoking and alcohol), degradation, daddy kink, age gap, mentions of pregnancy, exhibitionism, vouyerism, public/semi-public sex, anakin is a bad person in this au, dead dove do not eat, 18+ minors DNI

masterlist

A = Aftercare- Unless you count a cigarette as aftercare, you won't be getting much. He likely won't kick you out of bed, but anything more than laying in bed together, sharing a smoke, and a little pillow talk is out of his wheelhouse.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)- He's an ass man all the way. He loves when you walk around in short shorts or just your underwear to show off your ass (only for him, though). He always has a hand on your ass to grab, pinch, squeeze, or slap it, no matter where you are.

C = Cum- As irresponsible as it is, he loves cumming inside you. He loves the idea of knocking you up and claiming you as his, but he's not a kid anymore. He understands the risks of making you his sweet little twinkie. If he can't cum inside you, he wants to cum on your face. He hates pulling out if it's not to paint your pretty face.

D = Dirty secret- He apparently got a girl knocked up after a truck stop hookup. When she called him to tell him the news months later, he told her it was her problem. She should have kept her legs closed, after all.

E = Experience- He is very experienced. His ex-wife Padme was his first and the only woman he was with for seven years. At the beginning of their relationship, the sex was great. Steamy, full of passion and romance. After they got divorced, Anakin sowed his wild oats. At 26, he was still young and hot and it didn't take much effort to get women to go home with him.

F = Favorite position- Anakin is a lazy bastard. He likes it when you're on top and all he has to do is lay back and watch. He'll grope and mumble praise, but he expects you to do all the work. If he does take a more active role, it's to bend you over and fuck you from behind. He watches you ass and thighs jiggle with each thrust.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)- He's not too serious, but he isn't goofy either. He likes to tease and talk shit. When he laughs, he's laughing at you, not with you. And if you laugh at him, you'll suffer the consequences.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)- Anakin doesn't groom. Maybe he'll trim if it's really unruly, but for the most part he just lets it go. The only thing he shaves is his face.

I = Intimacy- If you're in a relationship, he'll be very intimate. Anakin is a passionate guy so if you're in love, he'll make your head spin. If it's just a hookup, the sex will be good but it will feel a little disconnected.

J = Jack off- This guy thinks with his dick. If he's not having sex, he's jerking off. Even in his older age, his sex drive hasn't gone down any. He's still as horny and desperate for pussy as he was when he was first married. His whole trailer is a biohazard. Don't shine a blacklight around there.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)- He likes to be called Dad or Daddy, especially if you have a significant age gap between you. He loves feeling like he's corrupting you and taking away your innocence, weather that's through sex or the use of substances. He also loves to degrade you because it makes him feel so powerful to reduce you down to nothing.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)- Literally anywhere. Anywhere in his trailer, on the porch, outside in the grass, in his car, against the hood of the car. He isn't picky but he is horny, so he'll take whatever he can get.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)- Seeing you in any kind of revealing clothing gets him going. Of course he doesn't want anyone else to see you that way. It's just for him to ogle at.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)- He wouldn't let you take too much control. He's a dom and he doesn't like when your head gets too big and you start giving him attitude.

O = Oral- Anakin loves getting head. He isn't ashamed to ask you for it and honestly, he almost expects it from you. He'll eat you out, but only so you'll reciprocate.

P = Pace- Anakin is deep and rough, but he takes his time if he can. When you're on top, he'll hold your hips to prevent you from going too fast, which is a subtle way to show his control over you. When he's on top, he'll keep his pace no matter how much you beg for it faster. He likes to drag it out and make it last, but don't underestimate his ability to have a quickie.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)- Anakin loves a quickie. Of course he prefers it when he has time to use you in all the different ways he wants to, but there's something so dirty about a quickie that he loves.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)- Anakin is not afraid to take risks, especially in the bedroom. As long as he's in charge, he doesn't care. He has some pretty unconventional sexual preferences, so he would be open to trying some things you suggest as well.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)- He's strong and can go for a while, but after years of chain smoking, he gets breathless easier. When you're on top, he can go as long as he wants, though he usually gets too impatient to drag it out. When he's on top, one round is his max.

T = Toys- Ankain would refuse to use any toys on you or let you use them even if he isn’t around. He says that you shouldn’t cum around anything other than his dick and he doesn’t want a greedy slut who needs more than what he can offer. He is a bit of a hypocrite, though, because he does have a toy he uses occasionally. A homemade Pringle can fleshlight. He stuffed a sponge inside the can and covered it with a condom and he fucks it occasionally. It’s not as good as a real cunt, but it gets the job done and hey, it was cheap.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)- All Anakin does is tease. He likes to see you squirm and suffer and he makes fun of you the whole time he tortures you. He'll make you beg for mercy but it likely won't be enough to get him to play nice. Anakin has always had a reputation for ruining nice things, and it's no different when it comes to you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)- Anakin isn't too loud when he moans. He will groan and swear under his breath, but most of the noise he makes comes from him running his mouth. He talks so much shit the whole time during sex. His dirty talk is effective at making your head spin and your cunt throb, but sometimes you wish he would just shut up. He loves the sound of his own voice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)- He likes to go to strip clubs to watch the dancers like the pervert he is, but he can't afford to pay for a private dance or even to tuck a bill or two into their waist bands.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)- Anakin has strong, built arms from years of mechanic work, as well as weight lifting. He used to have defined abs but now he's a little softer around the middle. He still tries to keep fit, but with the amount of beer he drinks, it's difficult to counteract. He has shitty tattoos all over, most of which were done in someone's basement. His dick is big; your fingers just touch when you wrap your hand around him and it reaches so deeply inside of you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)- He is always so fucking horny. He always wants you, but if he's been drinking, the slightest thought of you turns him on. He wants you anywhere and everywhere. He doesn't care if he comes off as a dirty old man because he is one.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)- If he's sober, he'll stay awake for a while. If he's drunk, however, he will only stay awake long enough to have a cigarette.

#anakin #anakin skywalker #trailer trash!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #star wars smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube