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swiftispunk · 3 months

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the wildest winter | joel miller x f!reader

a your summer dream one shot

your summer dream masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | follow @swiftispunkupdates and turn on notifications for updates

In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.

–Albert Camus, Return to Tipasa

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 9.3k

series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), angst, smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, alcohol, food, secret relationship until it's not. series summary: after falling head over heels for your dad's buddy on vacation, it's now time to navigate the real world together. or, a year in the life with joel miller.

chapter summary: your plan to tell your parents about your relationship doesn't quite go as planned. chapter warnings: smut, some angst, unprotected p in v sex, brief cockwarming, dirty talk, pet names, fluff and romance, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, narcissistic mothers, actually reader's mom is just The Worst in general, mentions of babies and discussions of parenthood, the closest han will ever come to breeding kink (but like, hardly), a lot of unresolved drama, a lot of joel playing guitar, reader's dad's birthday is in january, alcohol, food. no use of y/n.

a/n: thanks to everyone who waited for this i hope it's ok and if it's not um please be nice i'm just a baby

You don't think you've ever seen Joel look more handsome.

Of course, it's not really a fair contest; he's handsome all the time. You'd first found him beautiful in patterned shirts under twinkling lights, tanned and glowing in tropical heat. He's still tanned, still glowing, still perfect–only now he's shrouded in the dim light of your childhood bedroom, clad in a white-button down and a simple black blazer. His hair's longer, pushed back out of his face and curling around his ears, flecks of grey poking through in places they hadn't before. His hand rests on the small of your back, taking in the space–taking in you in the space–perhaps wondering, just like you, how in the hell you've ended up here.

"That was my bed," you tell him, nodding to the twin-sized frame pressed flush into a corner on the far side of the room. "It used to be over there."

You point to the patch of wall beneath the window, now occupied by boxes filled with god-knows-what. "I'm never here, so they just use this room to keep all their old shit in now."

"Beats payin' for a storage unit, I guess," Joel shrugs, frowning.

"The joy of being an empty nester, I guess."

He shakes his head. "I kept Sarah's room just how she left it when she moved out."

"Yeah, well," you roll your eyes, flicking the light off and leading him back out into the upstairs hallway of your parents' house. His hands wind around your waist, pressing into you as he follows you past the walls lined with family photos and mass-produced artwork. "You're the Best Dad Ever, we know this."

Joel laughs, the sound so sweet against your ear as you come to a stop in the hallway, gazing at the photos together.

"I remember when you looked like that," he says.

"Oh god, shut up."

His chin rests on your shoulder and you lean back into him without any fear; in the quiet of the upstairs hallway, there is only you and him.

You and him and the wall of photos, haphazardly hung in mismatched frames against a dark green backdrop. Three coats of green to be exact; you recall that month all too well. When your parents had stripped the walls and laid out canvas sheets across the carpet so the three of you could roll up your sleeves and Do It Yourselves. Your dad had been unwilling to relinquish control to anyone else, let alone hired painters.

Except Joel, of course. Because Joel had been there, on the second weekend for the second coat, something you only remember now that he's here with you again.

"Yeah, look," he hums, reaching out from behind you to point at a picture of a much younger you on the front steps of this very house, yellow backpack slung over bare shoulders, Velcro sneakers strapped over tiny feet. First day of school. Fourth grade, you think. "Your smile ain't changed a bit."

His voice against your neck tickles, and sure enough, you mirror your past self, teeth poking out from behind your lips in a sheepish little grin. You shake your head and Joel kisses a spot just below your jaw.

"There it is," he murmurs and his scruff drags over your skin in a way that feels like he's smirking.

There's a sudden change in pressure as his hands drift up your sides and find a home above your rib cage. Your tummy flutters, meeting him where he's at.

"Some things have changed," you whisper, guiding his palms higher to daringly rest them over your breasts, pressing down and encouraging him to squeeze.

He does, kneading the soft flesh under the fabric of your dress, a low growl echoing in the hollow of your ear. He presses his frame closer into yours, his semi-hard bulge prodding at your lower back, and for a moment you both let yourselves forget where you are. Forget the clattering of dishes and the distant back and forth of your parents downstairs, forget the whole reason you're here in the first place.

Your head falls back against his shoulder as Joel trails one hand lower, emboldened when you sigh to slip it between your legs under the hem of your dress.

"They sure have, baby," he rasps, cupping your sex in his massive hand, feeling at the wetness staining the cotton of your panties, assessing it. "Fuck, they sure have."

Downstairs, silver clashes with porcelain and a whining timer dings but, as usual, you are lost in Joel. The slow circle of his fingers over your clothed clit makes your mouth fall open and your eyes slip closed and even though you know it's wrong stupid wrong to do this here, now, like this–you don't stop him. You never do.

Not when his teeth nip at your ear and his fingers apply more pressure to your clit, or when you start to think you might actually be able to come like this, breaths already shortening, stomach already fluttering. And Joel just laughs when he feels you loosen, when you lean back into him like you'd crumble without his arms around you.

"Naughty thing," he whispers as his fingers dip below the edge of your panties to touch you properly, his other hand moving to close over your open mouth and catch your gasp. "Yeah? S'at feel good?"

You can only nod, brows knitting together as he increases his pace, expertly swirling over your clit in slick little ministrations. You're barrelling towards climax at alarming speed, something about the risk and the setting and his tangible hunger for you causing heat to pool in your core all too quickly.

"Shit," Joel grins when he feels you begin to shiver in his grasp. "You gonna come right here, baby? Just like this for me? Gonna come on my fingers with your folks downstairs?"

And as if that's what fucking does it.

Joel's appreciative sigh soundtracks your silent orgasm as your body tenses then falls. He draws it out long enough to make your knees buckle but it still somehow ends too soon; not nearly as perfect as what you know he's capable of giving you, but blinding all the same.

When your shudders subside, he pries his palm free from your mouth. You choke out a steadying breath and Joel plants a warm kiss behind your ear as he slowly retracts his fingers from your now-soaked underwear.

"Don't think I've ever seen you come so fast, baby,” he breathes reverently into your skin. "You're so fuckin' sexy."

"And you're–" You turn in his arms to face him, breathless as you lace your fingers behind his neck before pressing one fleeting kiss against his lips. "–a fucking menace."

He chuckles and shrugs, but doesn't deny it.

"You coulda just said the word n' I woulda stopped."

"Yeah, well," you roll your eyes, squish his sweet, scruffy, stupid face between your palms and kiss him again–just because you can. "You already know that'll never happen."

The man fucking giggles and your heart nearly explodes, fingers coiling into his curls like you could just burrow yourself into his scalp forever.

You feel good, and not just because you're still riding the waves of an orgasm. It's a good night. You can feel it.

It's your dad's birthday dinner and you're telling your parents about Joel.

You should probably feel scared, or nervous, or any number of things other than giddy but somehow, that's all there is. Excitement, anticipation, a fierce joy at the thought of making this thing with Joel into something real.

"Y'still wanna do this?" Joel asks, thumbs stroking soothingly at your waist.

"I do," you nod, and his face breaks into a blinding half-smile.

"No goin' back after this," he says.

"After this?" you scoff, eyebrows shooting up your forehead. "I've been locked in for a while here, big guy."

"Oh yeah? Since when?"

"Hm," you ponder for a moment. Your bodies gently sway in the quiet of the hallway, and somewhere in the back of your mind it occurs to you that you've been gone for far too long; your parents are probably starting to get suspicious. But your imminent confession makes you bold. They'll know the truth soon enough anyway. "Remember that day by the pool? In Costa Rica?"

Joel laughs, the aquamarine memory dancing behind his eyes as he nods. "Yeah."

"Pretty much since then."

His laughter fades, something more pensive passing over his features. Staring at the floor beneath you, he shakes his head.

"What?" you press him.

He reaches between your bodies to gently cup your chin, swiftly withdrawing his fingers to settle them over the shell that hangs from your neck. His gaze settles there too, at the place where his fingers are fiddling with the chain.

"Think it was on the plane for me," he admits. You swallow tightly.

"Like the plane home?" you ask weakly, even though you already know that's not what he'd meant.

Joel shakes his head. At last, his eyes meet yours from under his lashes, his stare all bashful and warm as he flashes you that familiar crooked smile.

"Nope," he sighs, infusing his tone with a sort of mock-solemnity, diffusing the weightiness of the moment. "'Fraid I've been locked in since day one, kid."

"Gross, don't call me that," you groan, pushing back on the suffocating emotion his words inspire and untangling yourself free from his embrace instead.

With nothing but adoration and trust–and something else you haven't voiced yet–coursing through you, you take his hand and lead him down the stairs.

"What the hell were you two doing up there?" your dad asks when you and Joel walk into the dining room, no longer hand-in-hand, but with a respectable amount of space between your bodies.

"I was just giving Joel a tour," you shrug, taking your usual seat at the dinner table.

"Joel's been here a thousand times, kiddo," he protests, but amazingly there's no suspicion in his tone. God, he really has no idea. You kind of start to worry you might break his brain tonight. "He comes around more than you. Least he used to."

He smacks a hand against Joel's shoulder, an affectionate gesture if not a little chiding. Because even though they're both smiling, you can sense the genuine hurt there. You've stolen your dad's friend away from him, a fact that haunts you more and more with each passing day. You twiddle your fingers in your lap and force a smile of your own, suddenly consumed by guilt. You work to rein it in; once the truth is out there, Joel won't have to hide anymore, and your dad can have his friend back. The thought keeps you tethered, solidifies your belief that telling them is the right thing, for everyone.

"Just been busy, you know how it goes," Joel says, eyes briefly flashing to you like he can't help himself. Your dad doesn't seem to catch it.

"I think he's got himself a new lady friend," your dad winks at you and your responding awkward laugh sounds so painfully put-on you think he must hear how much you're hiding beneath it. "Too busy with some woman to see your old man."

"Yeah, that sounds like Joel," you tease with a tight smile. Joel stifles a laugh under his breath and your dad looks like he wants to say something else but then your mother is emerging from the kitchen, announcing her presence with a clap of her hands.

"Food's ready," she chimes in. "Can I get some hands in here?"

You're the first to follow her back into the kitchen, driven perhaps by some strange, childlike need to get on her good side.

"Well, here's to this little Costa Rica reunion," your mother toasts, holding up her third glass of wine over your near-empty plates. You all answer the call, your dad with a beer bottle, you with your own glass of wine, and Joel, sitting on your left, with the same crystal glass of bourbon he's been nursing for the past hour.

He's nervous, especially now as dinner is nearing its end and your time to share your news is running short. You'd agreed that it would be best to wait, ease into it, maybe let your parents get a few drinks deep before dropping a potential bomb on them.

The second Joel's done eating, his hand is on your thigh, concealed beneath the tabletop. It anchors him, you think–anchors you too.

"And here's to you, dear," she adds, turning towards your father. "Happy birthday."

"Happy birthday, dad," you echo, punctuating the sentiment with a clink of your glass against his. Joel mirrors you, offering you an extra little nod of encouragement as he sips his drink beside you.

"Thanks, guys–thanks, honey," your dad smiles appreciatively, pulling at his beer and sitting back into his chair. "I'm just glad we could all get together for once."

Beside you, Joel squeezes your thigh–it's time–and your hand comes down over his. Anchoring. It's time. It's time.

You take a deep breath and–

"I'm actually really glad you're here," your mother suddenly interjects, pointing at you across the table with the rim of her glass. "I've been wanting to tell you about this nice boy I met through one of the women in my yoga class."

"O-oh," you choke out, whatever words you'd been about to say dying on your tongue in an instant. On your left, Joel visibly stiffens, sucking in a haggard breath through his nose as his gaze drops to his lap. Fuck. You squeeze his fingers, as if to say, I'm sorry, I'm here, don't listen to her.

"He's about your age, just got his Master's from UT, already has a job lined up and everything."

Fucking hell.

Every word stings like a knife to the chest, but what hurts more is the way Joel's eyebrows pull together, the way his hand loosens on your thigh, the way he minutely shakes his head as she lists off reminder after reminder of all the things he doesn't have, things you know he wants to offer you but can't, things he thinks you deserve. She breathes life into every one of his anxieties and it makes you fucking livid.

"Mom–"

"And he's very handsome," she cuts you off. "Peggy showed me pictures. And I know every mother thinks the world of their son, but he really is a good-looking guy. I think he'd be your type."

"Mom, I'm really not looking to meet someone new right now."

Scoffing, she waves a hand at you dismissively.

"It doesn't have to go anywhere!" she insists. Jesus, she's talking so fucking loud; every word rattles your bones and twists a blazing rage in your guts. Joel shrinks like he's been shot beside you and you need her to shut the fuck up, now. "But it wouldn't hurt to think about putting yourself back out there. You're going to be thirty soon and I just think–"

"I'm dating Joel, mom!"

Silence, thick and deafening, befalls the table. A weight you didn't know you'd been carrying disappears from your shoulders with a sigh. It settles in around you instead, tensing the air between you and your parents. You lace your fingers with Joel's and when you turn to offer him a gentle smile, you see that weight is gone from him too, his features relaxing as he meets your gaze, eyes all soft and grateful.

It's not exactly how you'd planned for it to come out. But fuck, it feels good.

Then you look up.

Not at your mother, but at your father.

Your father, who stares blankly between the two of you with his brows furrowed in confusion, frozen in place with his head tilted to the side.

"This Joel?" he demands, not like he's angry but like he genuinely doesn't understand.

And before you can even say yes, this Joel, your mother bursts into a fit of biting, mirthless laughter.

"Of course, this Joel. What other Joel would she be talking about?"

Your father shakes his head, apparently still trying to make it all make sense.

"I just–since when?"

You're about to answer him, but you're cut off once again.

"Since Costa Rica, obviously," your mother says, followed by another dark laugh that she swallows with a sip of wine.

Something about her tone makes your blood boil but you can't quite figure out why.

"You knew?" you ask her.

She rolls her eyes and your burning anger only grows. "I had a feeling."

"Okay, well," you sit up a little straighter, refusing to let her attitude dissuade you. "Yes. You were right, okay? Is that what you want to hear?"

She laughs again, and the knife in your chest twists. "Not particularly, but here we are, I suppose."

Through the blinding fog of rage, you're conscious of your father beside her, staring across the table at Joel, his expression still painted with confusion. Joel seems unable to return his gaze, instead keeping his eyes trained on you.

"Well, we–we're really happy," you continue, not unlike how you'd rehearsed it, though it comes out through gritted teeth in a way you hadn't planned for. "And we wanted to tell you guys–"

"At your father's birthday dinner?" she interrupts. Your heart sinks. "You thought that would be a good time to drop this on us?"

Drop this on us.

It's cruel–cutting–so overtly mean that it makes you want to run from the table, up to your childhood bedroom, so you can bury your face into your sheets and cry. But you are not a teenager anymore, and you are not hers to control. Instead, you channel your sadness into anger, and retaliate.

"I'm telling you about my relationship," you argue. "I don't see the problem here."

"You don't see the problem?" She looks between the two of you, like the aforementioned problem is right there in the space between your bodies, clear as day to anyone on the outside looking in. And it is, you know it is, you've just become so desensitized to it that it's lost all meaning to you now:

Fifty. Your dad's friend.

"What about you, Joel?" your mother goes on, speaking directly to him now. You imagine jumping in front of him as though her words were a bullet, as though you could protect him from the wounds you know she's about to inflict. "Do you see the problem?"

He opens his mouth like he wants to respond, but seemingly changes his mind when he locks eyes with your mother, succumbing to her glare and dropping his gaze back to his empty plate. And that kills you; it's one thing to feel the power she has over you, it's another to see it so clearly affecting Joel.

You can't think of anything to say either, too dumbfounded and hurt and frustrated to form a half-decent response. Through a hefty breath of momentary quiet, you note that Joel has looked up from the table, but he's no longer looking at your mother. He's locked in some kind of silent staring match with your father, soft browns all pleading pleading pleading.

Your mother sips her wine, eventually cracking through the uncomfortable silence with a sigh when it becomes clear neither you or Joel are going to answer her.

"I'm never gonna have grandchildren, am I?" she asks to no one in particular, finally rising from the table with a shake of her head and disappearing towards the back door.

It punches the air from your lungs, leaves you wide-eyed and cracked apart. Gobsmacked.

Joel, you think. You need Joel. Need his tethering calm and his soothing drawl, need him to pull you back from the reeling like he has for so long now.

But Joel is still staring at your father, still engrossed in some wordless, masculine conversation you can't get a handle on.

Goddamnit. You know what needs to happen now. They need to hash it out. And you can't be here.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," you mutter and at that, Joel finally whips around to look at you, something like panic in his eyes.

"It's okay," you tell him, cupping his cheek in your palm and ignoring the sound your father makes in response. "You guys should talk."

His eyes flash to your mouth and you want so badly to kiss him, like you've grown so used to doing. You decide not to push it, opting instead to quickly squeeze his hand three times before unfurling your fingers from his, watching him steel himself as you stand and back away.

"Dad," you say, forcing him to tear his eyes away from Joel to look at you instead, that same befuddled glint in his stare.

"I'm really happy," you repeat, willing him to hear it. "I'm really happy, okay?"

He nods, mouth a straight line, eyes still searching. It seems like the best you're going to get right now.

So you nod back, offer Joel one last twitch of your lips–almost a smile–and go find your fucking mother.

She's sitting on a lawn chair out on the back deck, legs crossed out in front of her. Somehow having procured another glass of wine, she's sipping on it lazily as she stares into the dark of the backyard. It's warm–always somewhat warm here, even in the dead of January–but her demeanor feels needlessly icy, like she's putting on a show of it.

You sigh, and take the seat beside her.

"I don't get why you’re so mad about this," you begin.

Now it's her turn to sigh, and in spite of her being nearly a bottle of wine deep by now, she seems strikingly sober.

"I'm not mad," she insists. "I'm just…baffled."

"What's so hard to believe?" you demand, leaning towards her with your hands on your knees, as if proximity will help her see your side more clearly. "Joel has been so good to me, mom. He's-he's kind and charming, and handsome–"

"And twenty years older than you," she interjects. "That man knew you when you were a child."

You vehemently shake your head at the suggestion behind her words.

"No. No, it's not some creepy thing, okay? We never even thought of each other like that until Costa Rica–"

"Are you sure about that? Maybe that's true for you, but how do you know it's true for him? What do you think a man his age wants with a girl like you?"

You just shake and shake and shake your head, defiant.

"Joel is not a bad guy, mom," you say with finality.

She shrugs, sitting back in her chair, sipping her wine.

She doesn't believe you.

"Why don't you trust me?" you ask, and it comes out like a whisper, some of the hurt you've been coddling finally coating your tone. It seems to affect her. Carefully assessing your pleading face, she frowns, and then finally, concedes.

Well, almost.

"Maybe you're right," she sighs. "Maybe it's better to just let you get it out of your system."

"Get it out of my system?" you repeat, taken aback.

She hums, appearing contemplative when she sips her wine now, struck by some new train of thought.

"I mean, you never had a rebellious phase or anything like that," she muses, swirling dark red liquid in her glass. "Always did everything by the book. And then you met Chris and–I mean, there was your whole future right there, right? Then that ended and now…"

She nods to herself, clearly very proud of her little psychoanalytical assessment.

"This is not about Chris," you assert. It burns your tongue to even say his name.

"Well, no, not entirely, I'm sure," she agrees with an errant shrug. "I think it's also about me."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"What?"

"Sweetie, come on. I know you resent me for wanting you to get back together with Chris. Someone you had something great with. And I know–" she holds up a hand to stop you from interrupting, leaving you to seethe in silence instead as she twists the knife even deeper than before. "–I know he hurt you. I don't think you should take him back. But what you're choosing now? This? Wasting time with a man you absolutely have no future with? Your father's friend, for Christ's sake…I can't help but feel like you're trying to prove some kind of point."

Every word, spoken with such flippant disregard for you or your feelings, has heat erupting in your veins all over again.

"Maybe the point," you spit, rising to stand over her, desperately fighting to feel less small. "–is that I fucking like him. Did you ever consider that?"

"I don't doubt that you do, sweetheart," she says, and the sympathy in her voice only serves to make you more enraged.

"So that's it?" you huff and the hurt is there again in your voice; the hurt and the shame and the sting of betrayal. "You're just...not gonna approve of this?"

"You're an adult, honey, I'm not gonna stop you." She sounds so patronizing you could scream. "But you can't ask me to pretend to be okay with this."

You can't find the words to retort and she doesn't say anything else. All you can do is scoff, shattered and indignant as you leave her behind and storm back inside.

You can't stay here a second longer.

"Joel," you call as you make your way back into the dining room, stopping dead in your tracks at the scene you find there.

Joel and your father, unraveling from what you can only describe as an affable embrace.

What the fuck?

They both turn to face you and you blink at them dumbly, your temper momentarily dissolving into confusion before you collect yourself.

"We're leaving," you tell him even though you have about a million and one questions to ask both of them. You don't care right now. You just need to get out of here.

Joel immediately nods without question, sensing the urgency in your tone.

"Kiddo, wait," your dad protests as you grab Joel's hand and drag him towards the front door.

"Happy birthday, dad," you say to the welcome mat. "Sorry for ruining it."

You can sense he's about to say something, but you're already turning the doorknob and stepping through the threshold, tugging Joel along behind you.

"Do you need a ride to your apartment?" your mother's voice calls from somewhere you can't see.

From the front porch, your responding shriek–

"I fucking live with Joel, mom!"

You hear Joel curse under his breath at that; you weren't planning on telling them that part yet. It's a shitty note to end on but you're past the point of caring.

You slam the door shut behind you, and let Joel take you home.

In the shallow depths of sleep, a melody intrudes.

A distantly familiar tune that reminds you of hotel rooms and burgers and missed texts and Joel. You can't put your finger on why, your half-conscious mind still piecing it all together like a puzzle made from memories.

Then, a voice.

"She broke down and let me…shit."

You stir at that sound, that voice that feels like a getaway car and home all at once.

Again, "She broke down and let me in…made me see where I–goddamnit."

You hear what he hears, a sour note on brassy strings. You also hear annoyance in his aggravated sigh, and then you hear him start again.

"She broke down and let me in…made me see where I've been."

You're awake now, creeping up out of his bed in the same dress you'd been wearing at your parents. Your underwear sticks uncomfortably to your thighs and your cunt, a bitter reminder of this evening's earlier pleasure, before it had all come crumbling down. You slip them off and leave them in a heap on the floor.

Your head feels heavy and hot in that way it often does when you fall asleep crying. Joel had let you stew, let you sob and rage and rant and eventually, sleep. Although apparently not for long; the clock on his nightstand lets you know it's barely past eleven.

You follow the sound of his voice, pad down his stairs and find him in the living room under the orange glow of a floor lamp. He doesn't see you right away, so you allow yourself the time to stare, drinking him in in his boxers and his soft grey t-shirt, acoustic guitar resting on his bare thigh. He's not singing anymore, focused instead on the complex guitar part you remember he'd once told you he knew how to play. He struggles now, but only slightly. To you, his thick fingers move with astonishing skill over the strings, emotion stinging at your tired eyes as he plucks away at the winding melody until–

"Shit," he curses as he loses it, hands falling away from the strings with another frustrated sigh.

He sees you then, standing in the doorway of his living room, watching him. Always watching.

"Hey, baby," he murmurs, smiling up at you softly.

"Try it again," you tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head, bashful.

"I'm no good," he admits. "Can't remember it anymore."

"You sounded good to me. Try it again."

He huffs a little, shaking his head again as he sits up straighter, fingers retaking their place on the strings. He glances down at them for a moment, and then his eyes flash up to yours.

"No laughin'."

You can't help it, the seriousness of the request makes you giggle. Joel shoots you an indignant glare. "Sorry, sorry–I won’t laugh."

"You're already laughin'."

You bite your lip to stifle any further giggles, silently gesturing for him to go on.

And he does, after a skeptical glance your way and a sigh. He focuses on the strings, and then he starts to play.

It's the same bright melody that awoke you just moments before, the same notes that had echoed out in the haze of a setting sun over room service and confessions all those months ago now. He doesn't sing, intent on his calloused fingers moving along the neck of the guitar. You're intent on him too, feeling the way a smile spreads across your face as you listen, some soft, golden warmth pooling down your spine and settling in the pit of your tummy. The feeling turns to tears in your eyes, the kind of adoration that aches, bursts from every orifice in a manner almost violent.

You are so lucky. There never needs to be anything more than this, you think. Or at least it's what you tell yourself.

Joel plays until your chest hurts, and then he fumbles.

"Ah, fuck."

His hands abruptly fall when he loses his way, laughing at himself as he finally looks up at you.

"No good, see?"

The lingering ache between your ribs begs to differ.

"You're so talented," you tell him earnestly.

He seems to hear the emotion in your voice, a tenderness overtaking his stare and his lips melding into a tight, sympathetic smile.

"I mean it," you insist. "You could've been a singer."

Joel chuckles, setting down his guitar and leaning it against the side of the couch. You take it as an invitation, hesitantly crossing the room to stand between his legs and let him take your hands in his. His thick thumbs stroke the backs of your knuckles, callouses catching on soft skin.

"Maybe if I'd'a been braver," he shrugs. He's gazing up at you, but you can't seem to look away from his hands. "Kept the band goin'."

He winks, but the reminder only makes you think of your father. You quickly change the subject.

"I bet you sang a lot for Sarah, though."

His responding laugh rumbles in the space between you, low and fond, deep in his chest.

"Did," he says. "'Fore she got old enough to tell me to stop."

You try to laugh too, but it sounds distant even to your own ears. A grating thought begins to claw at your insides as you conjure up an image of a younger Joel, little baby in his arms, sweet brown eyes all alight with devotion and love and fear. An image so foreign to you, a Joel you'll never know, a feeling you'll never know, one you've never even really wanted. And yet you can't unhear that voice–

I'm never gonna have grandchildren, am I?

"Did you ever…"

You quickly swallow the question back, frowning with your gaze still fixed on your conjoined hands. Joel squeezes your fingers lightly, sensing–always sensing–that you're holding something back.

"What?" he presses.

You take a deep breath, and let the words spill from you before you can stop to think them through.

"Did you ever think about having another kid?"

There's a long, excruciating pause, Joel staring at your face, you staring at his hands. When he finally speaks, his voice is level, and if he'd heard any sort of implication in your words, he doesn't let on.

"Sometimes," he slowly nods. "I love bein' a dad. Think I'd'a had way more kids if I thought I coulda managed that. But Sarah was more'n enough."

You share an almost-laugh, two soft exhales passed through two sets of nostrils. You don't know what to say–because truthfully, you don't know what you're after–so all you give him in return is,

"You did a great job with her."

Another loaded pause and you still can't bring yourself to meet his eyes. Joel's not having it. His fingers hook under your chin and he gently tilts your face up. Tells you, "Look at me," until you finally do. There's genuine curiosity there, in the deep brown of his gaze, a quiet ferocity that does little to put you at ease.

"Do you…want kids?" he asks.

You don't know what to say; you don't know the answer.

"I…"

"It's okay," he assures you. "You're not gonna scare me away."

"No, it's–" You shake your head, feeling stupid. Your brain feels scrambled, all hazy and exhausted. One too many anxieties had been brought to the forefront of your mind this evening and you feel every one of them consuming you now. "I don't think I do."

"Then what's wrong?" he presses, almost pleads.

Everything, you think. But mostly–

"I think my mom just…got in my head."

Joel's shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh, his expression shifting to one of understanding. He resituates himself on the couch a bit, opening up his right side for you to crawl up into. His strong arm loops around your back, a warm palm stroking up and down your spine as you let your head fall tiredly against his chest.

"I probably never will give her grandkids," you mutter after a quiet moment. "I'm her only daughter–it's like, my one job. And it doesn't matter how much I tell myself that's not true, I just always, always come back to this feeling that I'm letting her down."

He waits until you've fallen completely silent, squeezing you into him a little tighter as you speak. You don't cry; you don't think you have any tears left. You're just seeking, needy for that comfort only Joel can provide, the sense of safety he's offered you since that day on the beach when you'd first bared your heart to him.

He doesn't disappoint.

"You know, sweetheart," he sighs gruffly. "There ain't a whole lot in my life that's gone the way it was meant to. Hell, I don't think there's been one goddamn day that's gone by where I haven't asked myself if I'm doin' the right thing or if I coulda maybe done somethin' different."

You peer up at him and his big hand cups your face, thumbpad stroking lightly over your cheekbone.

"You make the most of what you get, and do it for you and the people you care about," he whispers. "There's no schedule. You ain't got some kinda job–" his soft voice twists bitterly around the word, like he's offended at the very suggestion. "–That's not what you're here for. I'd never expect grandkids outta Sarah and it's…fucked up your mom expects that of you."

You can hear him getting worked up, his obvious frustration only further endearing you to him, as if that were even possible. Suddenly, you don't feel nearly close enough, moving to straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. He welcomes you with open arms, holding you firmly against his chest as you bury your face into his shoulder.

"Thank you, Joel."

"I got you."

A hint of frustration lingers there in his voice, but mostly you feel it in his embrace, his hold so fierce it's like he's trying to carve it right into your muscles–he's got you, he's got you, he's got you.

You hold each other like that till your breaths match his and you finally feel safe enough to ask what you'd failed to ask before you'd fallen asleep.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

You pull back to see his face, knotting your fingers into the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

"What did you say to my dad? Why wasn't he mad?"

To your surprise, his brows furrow and his eyes flit to the shell around your neck as he swallows nervously.

"He was mad," Joel admits softly. His hand cups your face, dull fingernails scratching at the side of your head as he speaks. Anchoring. "S'mad as any father'd be if he found out his buddy was screwin' around with his daughter, I reckon."

As mad as I'd be if the roles were reversed, you think he wants to say.

You nod slowly, searching his face and waiting for him to go on. Joel frowns at your necklace, seeming to just notice the shell is facing the wrong way against your chest. He takes his time readjusting it, like it's the most important thing in the world–and it kind of is, you guess. Eventually, he sighs, resting his palm above your left breast, fingertips brushing your collarbone.

"'Cept I…" His voice drops an octave, so low and quiet it's like he's talking to himself. "I told him I wasn't just screwin' around with you."

"Oh."

You're not sure why the confession makes your heart pound hot in your ears and butterflies dance in your stomach; you've always known it was more than that with Joel. But something about hearing it out loud has a brightness stirring in your chest, the words so dangerously close to the ones you've almost said for months now.

His other hand wanders up your spine to curl his thick fingers around the nape of your neck. At last, his eyes find yours, two soft, brown, adoring orbs that burn with an intensity so powerful and fearful that you feel his next words before you even hear them.

"And I…I told him I think I'm in love with you."

"Oh."

The air leaves your lungs in a shuddering breath, as a tingling wet warmth pricks at your eyes.

Oh god, you know this feeling, have known it so long. And now Joel breathes life into it, makes it real. The hand behind your neck pulls you in closer and you go without question, let your forehead collide with his as the tears you thought you'd run dry steadily begin to fall.

"Yeah," he murmurs.

"Is that true?"

You feel him frown, his body shifting under yours to clutch you into him tighter, like he's trying to show you.

"Yes," he admits hoarsely. It's hard to see from this angle, but you can just make out the fact that his eyes are wet too, and his forehead feels hot where it rolls under yours. "God, yes–yes, it's true. I'm sorry."

"Don't you dare," you protest, crushing your mouth against his, kissing away the doubt and the guilt and the apologies from him like sucking venom from a snake bite. Between sniffles and kisses, your own hushed confession–

"I love you, Joel. I love you so much."

You feel the change in him the second he hears it, the abandon with which he begins to kiss you. His tongue slips past the seam of your lips, sitting up beneath you just to get you closer still.

"Fuck, I love you," he groans, kissing feverishly along your jaw until he finds your ear, nipping at the lobe while his fingers tangle in your hair. "I'll be whatever you need, baby, whatever you want. M'not goin' anywhere. S'long as you want me."

Your breathing stutters as he trails his lips down, down, down, over your pulse point, past the shell around your neck to suck at the skin above your sternum.

"I'll fuckin' show her, sweetheart, I'll show her how good I can be for you."

He keeps his face buried against your chest as he rocks his hips upwards, making you gasp when you feel the hard line of his cock make contact with your bare pussy.

"I'll give you a baby f'you want one," he rambles on gruffly, pulling you down into his lap over and over and over. "I'd give you a hundred kids f’that's what you wanted."

You gasp at that, dizzying arousal clouding your vision, drunk on his devotion and the feeling of his clothed cock grinding against your velvet warmth. You imagine him filling you, really filling you, making you his in every conceivable way and it makes you fucking needy. You match his shallow thrusts upwards, chasing contact as you arch your back and press your chest into his, never feeling close enough.

"Talk to me," he grits out, breath hot against your bare chest.

But words evade you, lost in his touch as Joel slips the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders to palm at your breasts. He feasts on you, mind and body, bites down hotly on your jawbone and rolls his hips beneath you.

"Talk to me," he repeats, grunting it into the space behind your ear. He grips the hair at the nape of your neck with one hand and pulls your face up to meet his eyeline. His eyes are nearly black, shining with leftover emotion and blazing with covetous need.

"Fuck me," you sob.

Joel wastes no time, breath shaky as he reaches between your bodies to free his cock from his boxers. He taps your sides and you lift your hips, locked in his stare as you lower yourself back down onto his length. Joel's grip on your hips encourages you to move slowly, though it makes no difference; your jaw still falls open at the stretch, and you pause when you're fully seated just to appreciate the space your body makes for him.

"Keep talkin'." Joel growls as you adjust. Slick drools from your cunt as you experimentally roll your hips, but Joel's arms around you hold you perfectly still. The tip of his cock tickles the deepest parts of you, his open mouth hovering over yours. Finally as close as he can get, he holds you there.

There are no words for this feeling.

"Can't–I don't–"

You gasp when he shifts beneath you, his thick cock moving inside you just enough to ease the ache, if only for a fleeting moment. Your pussy pulses around him, sticky-wet and so fucking full.

"Just–say anythin', please," he begs. His forehead falls haplessly into your shoulder, heavy and hot and damp with sweat. You bury your face into his curls while his arms around you loosen and at last you start to move–slow, reverent rocks of your hips against his that have you both moaning softly into each other's skin. "You make me feel so fucking good," you breathe raggedly. "No one–no one's ever made me feel as good as you do."

Joel groans, sliding his hands up your spine as you begin to ride him in earnest, impaling yourself down on him again and again and again.

"Don't–" Joel protests, grabbing at your hips to slow your movements, encouraging you to grind on him instead. "Wanna feel you come on it."

You whimper, letting Joel guide your movements till he pinpoints that perfect spot inside you, each roll of your hips making his cock prod against it while you wet the coarse hairs at his base.

"Show me how good I make you feel," he huffs as you chase your release, devouring your lips in a kiss that's more shared breaths than anything else. His lower belly rubs at your clit and you feel it start to build, that deep-seated pressure growing in your core and threatening to swallow you. You moan into his mouth and his hand tightens in your hair, clutching you impossibly closer as you increase your pace, greedy in the way you're using him. Joel's obvious pleasure in watching you fall apart stops you from caring.

"Show me, pretty girl," he rasps, voice low against your lips. "No one else gets to have you like this, do they?"

"No–fuck, Joel!–only you, only you."

"Yeah, baby–you're fuckin'...all mine, huh?" he groans. "My girl. And I'm all yours. All yours, baby. Lemme hear it. Lemme see."

"I'm yours–please," you cry as your orgasm licks up your spine, building slowslowslow then crashing into you all at once. Your hips stutter and you clench around his cock, a high-pitched wail pouring from your mouth into his and Joel just talks you through it, a quiet refrain of there you go, there you go, there you go as you gush down onto his balls.

"You're so fucking perfect," Joel growls before it even ends, unable to stop himself anymore from fucking up into you. The hurried drag of his cock moving wetly in and you of your spent hole prolongs the pleasure, shooting aftershocks through your veins until you lie limply against his chest and let him find his own high.

You whine into his shoulder while you let him ride it out, his arms so tight around your back you wonder if your bodies won't just melt into one.

"Come in me, Joel," you implore him weakly, clawing listlessly at his scalp. Fresh tears collect in your eyes and spill out onto your cheeks and you can't imagine there is anyone on Earth as full as you are right now. As full of love and warmth and Joel.

"Oh, fuck," he moans, losing his rhythm slightly as he nears his edge, pounding up into you harder. "I will–m'gonna–"

His rambling chokes off into a laboured grunt, his entire frame shuddering under you as he comes. He pumps his seed into the deepest parts of you until hot cum seeps past your walls and down his length. He doesn't stop moving till he's emptied himself completely, breathless and faded when his lips find yours again, his cock still buried inside you.

"I don't want any babies," you tell him as you come down, clutching at the sides of his face and kissing every part of him you can reach. "I just want you. Just me and you."

Joel nods, pulling you into a sticky-warm embrace, breathing unevenly into your hair.

"Just me and you, babygirl," he vows, voice barely above a whisper. "Just me and you."

one month later

Winter is so long.

You know on some level that with each passing day, the sun hangs in the sky a little longer than it did the day before, but it never really feels that way, does it? It's just winter, cool and dark and barren, until suddenly, it's spring. The leaves will return and the flowers will bloom and you'll be left wondering when the hell winter even started in the first place.

For now, you remain in the thick of it. Mid-February brings with it a rare weekend of snow, barely enough to coat the earth, a pitiful dusting destined to melt by Monday. Not that you need much of an excuse these days to spend your free time sheltered inside with Joel, but it's nice to have a reason for once. Cross-legged on his living room floor with Henry in your lap, Joel sitting above you on the couch with his guitar across his knees, you'd be content to stay this way forever.

Of course, a grey cloud of irresolution still hovers over you; you don't try to reach your mother, and after about a week of ignoring her texts, she stops trying to reach you. And it's fine. It's fine. You don't need her approval and you don't need her judgment. Beside, the more time that passes since your father's birthday dinner, the more you accept that her response had–probably–been coming from a place of concern. You know she's not an evil person. It's still easier to stay angry with her, though.

Then there's the other cloud, somehow darker and even more ominous, the nimbus that's been following you since before Costa Rica. Heather. Apparently she's changed her number, because she's been texting you non-stop for the past week, pleading for the chance to be forgiven, to meet for coffee, to come over and catch up–anything.

And the worst part is, you're starting to consider it.

It's not lost on you that you've been isolating yourself with Joel since last summer, and while your parents now know you're dating, it's not really like you can talk about it with them. Plus, you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss her–at least, what you had with her before…everything. You're not sure you can ever truly get that back but you're beginning to wonder if maybe some version of it still exists.

"You don't gotta take the high road or nothin'," Joel had said when you'd told him. "But you can always hear her out. Ain't no shame in that. But only f'that's what you want."

Supportive to a fault. For once–just once–you wish he'd just tell you exactly what to do.

Anyway, most days you barely think of Heather, or your mom. Most days are consumed by work and Henry and Joel. You aren't thinking of them right now, for instance.

"Right–sing that high part again," Joel tells you, after accompanying you through the first verse of Fleetwood Mac's "I Don't Want to Know" for the third time in a row now.

You frown. "The…high part?"

Joel rolls his eyes–a little dramatic. "The part you were just singin'."

You sigh exasperatedly–you'd just been messing around, casually jumping in when he'd started strumming the familiar intro. But then he'd gone and looked all proud and smiley and impressed and curious and now it may as well be a goddamn singing lesson with the way he's bossing you around.

You straighten your spine, fill your tummy with air just like Joel had taught you, and nod. "Okay, okay."

He plays you in, and then you sing for him.

I don't want to know the reasons why Love keeps right on walking on down the line I don't want to stand between you and love Honey, I just want you to feel fine

He lets you get through half a verse before he stops you.

"Good," he says. "Feel where that's sittin'?"

"No," you scoff. You don't even know what that means. "I can't sing, Joel."

"You can," he insists, smirking. "And you're doin' great. Try it again."

You roll your eyes now, taking another deep breath before he leads you into another refrain.

Only this time, when you start singing, he joins in too. A harmony, lower than the part you're singing, the two lines perfectly melding together in the space between your bodies. Your eyes widen at the sound you create, something beautiful crafted from two voices coming together as one. It tickles your ears in the strangest way, and by the time you get through a verse together, you're laughing in wonder, Henry finally jumping out of your lap, clearly betrayed by the unpleasant vibrations of your joy.

"Sounded pretty good, huh?" Joel grins.

Your eyes are still wide with shock and even if you still highly doubt your abilities, you can't deny that it did, in fact, sound pretty fucking good. "That was so cool."

"See?" He cocks his eyebrows, setting the guitar down beside him so it's leaning against the front of the couch. "You can sing."

"Yeah, yeah," you laugh. From the other room, you hear the front door open and close–right on time. "You're just a good teacher."

"Who's that? Joel?" a familiar voice says, your father rounding the corner from the hallway into the living room, shrugging off his jacket as he goes. "Yeah, right."

"Hey, dad," you greet him, as casually as you can muster.

He hesitates in the doorway, still a bit uncertain of his place here, even though it's become fairly standard now for him to pop in on the weekends like this. The three of you had made the decision to work towards normalizing your relationship with Joel even if it feels…less than comfortable sometimes. You try to think of it as a win-win; your dad gets his friend back, and you get to feel like at least one of your parents supports your relationship.

You smile warmly up at him from your place on the carpet, and at last he eases into the room, stopping to pull you into a one-armed hug on his way to the La-Z-Boy.

He's giving you his own best attempt at a smile as he sits himself down on the chair next to Joel, the two of them greeting each other in that grunted, male way, hands slapped on shoulders with all the casual friendliness of two people who've known each other for years.

It's a work in progress. But you're grateful that he's trying.

"Can I hear?" your dad asks, nodding towards the guitar perched beside Joel. You cringe at the thought of that, immediately glancing at Joel with barely-concealed horror in your eyes.

"Oh, I don't–" you begin to protest but your father cuts you off.

"C'mon, just a little."

Joel's cheeks flush a light shade of pink, his own embarrassment showing through the crooked smirk he's wearing. He tilts his head at you and shrugs, resigned. Might as well.

"Alright," you reluctantly agree. "Sure, okay."

Joel's lips split in a genuine smile then, as he reaches for his guitar and your father sits back into his chair. You can feel him looking between the two of you, assessing the silent conversation you share with your eyes, the familiarity, the safety, the love. The way Joel nods at you encouragingly and shoots you a little thumbs up, watching you with furrowed brows until you nod back, a quiet indication you're as ready as you'll ever be.

Then he starts to play.

You keep your eyes on Joel, not just because the even nodding of his head helps keep you in time, but also because it's just too embarrassing to look at your dad. Joel holds your stare, and together, you sing. His voice rings out in that same harmony from before, seamlessly knotting with yours. He lets it go on longer this time, watching your confidence grow as he guides you through the song, all the way through once, then again. Eventually you start to forget your father is there at all, honestly too enraptured by how easy it's starting to feel to hold your harmony alongside Joel's, how satisfying it feels to hear the two melodies intersect and resolve, stronger and stronger with each passing refrain.

It's kind of magical, how something that once felt so foreign feels so comfortable with Joel.

You get through two rounds of verses and choruses before Joel finally cuts it off with a chuckle and a final little flourish of his guitar.

It's quiet for a moment as the remnants of your duet fade into the ether. You're still staring at Joel.

"You guys sound really good together," your dad eventually says and when you turn to face him, you find his lips are pressed into a tight smile, an earnest sort of warmth swimming in his eyes. "Real good."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #vacation!joel #your summer dream

1K notes · View notes

cheeseceli · 4 months

Text

You speak another language

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!Reader

Genre: fluff, reaction

Warnings: mention of food at Lee Know and Felix's, I think that's it?

Request: how do you think ot8 would react to the reader speaking in their native language? Especially if it's not korean/english?

A/n: It's embarrassing the amount of time I took to write this one💀 the worst part is that I actually spent every week tryna find the best way of putting all my ideas together. Hope you like it anyways!

Bang Chan

‌Would have a pet name for you in your mother tongue

‌ Like idk if you speak spanish his nickname for you would be "mi amor"

‌Finds it really attractive btw

‌When you're speaking your mother tongue he sees just how much comfortable you are

‌You literally shine in his eyes

‌He'd just be staring at you with heart eyes

‌And if you're learning Korean or English he'd be more than glad to help you overcome your difficulties with the language

‌Would be your personal professor fr

‌Speaks slower around you so you can understand everything, and wouldn't mind repeating himself at all

‌He knows that the language barrier can be a bit intimidating and that it can make you afraid of opening up completely

‌But he'd be so reassuring all the time

‌Really tries his best to comfort you when you need it and it doesn't matter the language, he makes is clear that he loves and will be with you all the time

Lee Know

‌If you had a hard time speaking Korean but still tried your best to communicate with him and his parents in Korean, he'd fall DEEP in love with you

‌He gives me major "I don't understand but I love you" vibes ngl

‌lmao he'd learn the bad words before anything else

‌If you're speaking your mother tongue when in the phone he'd try to guess what you're saying

‌Genuinely doesn't know what's going but he's invested

‌And he repeats some words after you say it

‌Not in a mocking way, he just finds it cool how the word sounds and keep repeating it to himself

‌Like if you speak french he'd be like "bonjour. Bonjour? Bonjour"

‌It's endearing

‌But yeah you'll have to translate everything to him later

‌He wants to know about the tea

‌Cooks your hometown dishes for you!!

Changbin

‌ If you have a foreign accent when speaking Korean or English he finds it adorable

‌ And he also finds your mother tongue adorable

‌ It doesn't matter if you speak one of the sexiest languages in the world

‌ This man finds it adorable

‌Eventually learns your language

‌He'll take classes, buy text books and everything

‌He truly believe that learning how to communicate with you (in every language for that matter) is like a "boyfriend duty"

‌So he'll be more than happy to learn

‌Tries to show his affection in ways that are not spoken as well so you both could surpass the language barrier

��He'll get you flowers, gifts, would take you to amazing places, would have the best dates with you and everything you can ever think of

‌You'd have the best memories ever with him and no word would need to be said

Hyunjin

‌ Would ask you to teach him some pet names and sweet phrases in your language

‌ And would 100% say "I love you" in your mother tongue in certain moments

‌ Like in more intimate moments that he wants you to truly understand how much he loves you

‌ Would love if you replied with saying "I love you" in Korean

‌If you have a different accent than him when speaking Korean/English he might start speaking like you

‌yk when you get someone's accent just by living next to them

‌That's him

‌He finds it fancy

‌And when the boys tease him for this he might get shy but he's also so proud? Like "yeah I got it from my s/o :D"

‌Writes a letter to you once he finds confidence in speaking your language. It might have some mistakes here and there but it was so sweet, and the intention behind it was so lovely, that you couldn't help but tear up a bit when you read it for the first time

Han

‌Loves your culture so much

‌He'd ask you to show songs and movies and things like that in your language

‌Like if you're Indian he'd ask you to show him some Bollywood movies

‌He'd try to guess what they are saying and it's a whole game for him

‌He's there for the vibes honestly

‌But I think he'd end up learning a thing or two and later would like to learn the whole thing

‌Would incorporate your mother tongue in his songwriting I'm 100% sure

‌And!! would ask for songs recommendations so he could sing to you when you least expect it

‌Learns two words in your mother tongue, probably uses them in the wrong way, thinks he is fluent.

‌But he also knows a lot of slangs in your language, it's kinda surprising ngl

‌He'd occasionally drop a random slang in your language when talking to the kids and everyone would be like ???

‌"what did you say?"

Felix

‌ Learns your language to surprise you

‌ Like every time there is a break when he's practicing he'd open duolingo

‌(He'd have a hella long strike, 100 days in a row or smth)

‌When you're speaking on the phone with someone he tries to listen to it as a listening exercise

‌Is smiling to himself throughout the period of the call and when you ask the reason why he just brushes it off

‌Cooks your hometown dishes for you pt. 2!!

‌But seriously tho

‌He knows it's hard to be far from home, especially by yourself

‌So he really tries to make you feel at home

‌He will cook your nationals dishes, will sing songs in your language, will encourage you to speak in your mother tongue around him etc

‌:(

‌Also, 2 kids 1 room flashback

‌He likes to have meaningful conversations with you where he tells you how much he loves and appreciates you

‌Unlike Hyunjin, he'd say everything in English because it feels more genuine for him, as it's his first language

‌So if you're replying to him in your language, he'd feel SO happy

‌He thinks this is like a proof that everything you're saying comes from a deep place somehow. It makes him fall in love once again

Seungmin

‌ Wants to learn your language the moment you guys get in a serious relationship

‌ Besides wanting to be able to talk to you in your own comfort zone

‌He'd want to be able to talk to your friends and family who speaks your mother tongue

‌ Like the first time he sees your parents he'd be ready to talk to them

‌i'm so down bad for this man it's not even funny anymore

‌anyways

‌Would take you everywhere in Korea so he could show you a bit of his home (would tell stories about the places so excitedly)

‌And would love if he had the opportunity to go to your country

‌Would love it even more if you showed the place around to him and explained a bit about everything you know

‌If in the first stages of the relationship there is a language barrier, he'd plan dates that don't involve a lot of talking

‌Like he'd take you to concerts and karaokes

‌music is universal after all isn't it?

‌He always give his 100% into the relationship it's so cute

I.N

‌ Finds it really attractive pt2

‌ He loves your accent

‌ And he loves your mother tongue as well

‌ He could spend a whole day just listening to you speak, even if he doesn't understand a single word

‌ And if you're learning Korean, he'd love to see your progress and to see you getting more comfortable while speaking it

‌ I also see two possible scenarios:

‌ One, he'd wake up one day really determined to learn your language and wouldn't stop until he does

‌ Two, he'd never stop and actually learn it, but he'd end up catching up with some things you say and show to him. So in the end he'd know the basics and some essential phrases

‌I believe he'd genuinely enjoy to learn about your culture

‌Like, whenever a cultural shock comes up, he'd be invested in understanding it?

‌Of course sometimes there would be misunderstandings, but I truly think he would try to see the positive view rather than seeing only the cultural crash

‌He might even learn a thing or two and get your culture's habits

Feedback is very much appreciated!!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

2K notes · View notes

daaawnnn · 5 months

Text

ice skating

skz scenario: going ice skating together for the first time

pairing: bf!skz x gn!reader

warnings: none

BANG CHAN

he'd be an absolute sweetheart if you didn't know how to skate. he'd hold your hand whilst you're skating together and give you tips on how to skate more smoothly so you're not tumbling every 5 seconds. once he sees that you're doing well, he'd let go of your hand and observes if you can manage by yourself. he'd stay close by, ready to catch you, if you were on the verge of slipping. his eyes would light up once he sees that you can do well on your own. your reward from chan would consist of a tight hug and a chaste kiss to your lips.

LEE KNOW

i’d like to think that minho is decent at ice skating. he’d attempt to teach you the basics on how to ice skate. emphasis on attempt. he would try to skate alongside you but make the mistake of slipping every now and then. he would purposely drag you down with him, although he’d cushion your landing, as he didn’t want to be the only one falling over. if you could balance and skate for a few seconds, he’d praise you. if you fell, the first thing he’d do is laugh then he would help you up. he’d probably take a picture of you on the floor and put it as his lock screen to reminisce about it later on. if the landing was harsh though, he’d check up on you instantly and make sure you’re not injured.

CHANGBIN

changbin is just happy to be there even though he doesn't know how to ice skate. he had initially planned to watch you from the sidelines but you persuaded him to join you on the rink. this man would be clinging onto you for dear life since he didn't want to fall and make a fool of himself in front you. his arms are fully engulfing you, he's not even skating anymore, you're just carrying him around the rink. swears he's never going to ice skate ever again (but he would still do it for you.)

HYUNJIN

since both of you are good at ice skating, you two would try to make it into a competition. objective: skate around the rink the quickest. whoever loses, has to pay for the meal after. since hyunjin doesn’t really mind paying, he would try to purposely lose. but, once you catch on, you’d slow down and move about even slower than he does as you also don’t mind paying. now, it turned into who could skate more slower. you’re both complaining to each other to move faster, but not doing anything about it. once you’re both tired of this back and forth, you collectively agree to skate around the rink together, holding hands. hyunjin and you decided to settle who pays for the meal with a classic game of rock, paper, scissors. turns pouty once he realises you’d be paying, but doesn’t argue about the decision.

HAN

going ice skating with han is like a recipe for disaster. he swears he’s an expert at it, BUT as soon as he gets on the rink, he’ll slip right then and there. both of you will be tumbling down together A LOT. literally as soon as you try to get up, han would accidentally knock you back down because he lost his balance. overall, the session would be filled with laughter and you guys arguing about who the better ice skater is (even though you’re both equally bad.)

FELIX

he'd say he's bad but would be pulling up all types of tricks once he's on that rink. you swear you've never seen anything as beautiful as your boyfriend in that moment. the way he manoeuvred around the rink with grace would forever be engraved in your mind. he'd be your personal guide on how to ice skate. he's holding your hands whilst skating with you. he doesn't even need to look behind him to see if he's going to bump into someone. he'd be all giggly when you nearly fall over onto him and he'd kiss your forehead, telling you it's okay before helping you again.

SEUNGMIN

he’s out here catching all your worst moments on the rink, ready to make fun of you for them later. karma got him though. you were trying to take a video of the view of the rink, when you accidentally recorded him tripping over a kid which caused him to land on his butt. as soon as he spotted the camera, his cheeks turned red. he’d be rushing over to you and smothering your face in kisses with a smile on his face, bribing you to delete that video of him. but you knew better than to do that. it was a cute little video of him and you were planning on treasuring it.

JEONGIN

jeongin had always wanted to go ice skating with you. so, when you surprised him for a date by taking him to an ice skating rink, he was over the moon. he’d kiss you the second he realised where he was. he was so smiley the entire time. his excitement was contagious. he’d drag you around the entire rink and gush over how much he loves you for this. your heart swells with love at his enthusiasm. a literal necessity to take pictures of him here for him to post on social media. and a few candid photos of him to keep for yourself.

©daaawnnn

reblogs are appreciated!

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again. It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night. With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail.

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight. Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up. I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate. Jisung is on his way to get you. I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah? If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there. Buh-byyeeeee!”

Oh, that son of a bitch.

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you. You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times.

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides. Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face. Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again.

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself.

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands. He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true.

Han Jisung is the worst.

Han Jisung is your nemesis.

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout. You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age. You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat.

Jisung honks again.

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up. You are not in the mood for his shenanigans.

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh. “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling.

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death. You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking. He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted. He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore. When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger.

“Do not even think about it,” you say. “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says. “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment. Usually. The weather has traffic horrifically backed up. Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport.

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways. “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He nods, strumming the steering wheel again.

The radio blathers on, you barely listening. You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at. Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again. You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.

The snow comes down harder. It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside. Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow. Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window.

“Shit,” he says.

He changes stations to catch a road update. Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city.

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say. It comes out wheezy. “It’s winter! Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow! God! What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course.

“How else are we getting downtown?”

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face.

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says. “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?” Jisung asks. “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse. You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness.

“Fine,” you say. “What are we doing then?”

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign. You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence. The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow. It holds the promise of warmth. You hurry inside.

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell. Someone appears to check you in.

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says. “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather. We have exactly one room left available. It’s a nice cozy double bed. Sounds good?”

“Ummm…” You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain. “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you. “We’re a lucky couple. Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?”

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps.

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation.

“No, sorry.” She gives you a funny look but shakes her head. “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight. You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.”

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card. “Right, baby?”

You smack his ass, hard and swift. His eyes widen. You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl.

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole. You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears. He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying. But no, he lays there peacefully. His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face. He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being. His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music.

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut. It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat.

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say.

He sticks his tongue out at you.

“Very mature,” you say.

You lay down with your back to him. After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him. He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face. You can hear his music but say nothing.

You can’t sleep. You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him.

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside. There is a long stretch of silence in the dark. You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life. Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over. You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t. He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark.

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back. “Absolutely not. We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines. “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what? Hatred? You hate me?” Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face.

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you. Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good. The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly. Certainly not to his face. Certainly not beside him in bed.

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!” Jisung says. “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me? How could you hate me? I’m delightful.”

Even now, the clown is trying to joke. Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it? Everything is just a joke all the time. Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen. But you aren’t laughing. Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check. Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning. You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet. Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly. It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch. The worst you’ve ever met, right?”

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say.

“No way, you were just talking in a voice. What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself. He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back. You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you. It puts you at an impasse. With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts.

You laugh, a joyless cackle.

“If,” you repeat. “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.”

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him. He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset. His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers.

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes. You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met. And it—”

You are not sad. You refuse to be sad. This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore. But you are angry – with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes.

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath. You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear.

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say. “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet. Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along. And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now. You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose.

“Yes,” you say. “We did. We got along amazing. We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly. It’s like I just forgot to be shy. I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused. “I don’t get it. It was Changbin’s birthday, right? We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye. Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression. He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you.

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap. “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch. The worst I’ve ever met.’ And you were laughing. Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me. And I had no idea why. Why? What had I said or done? It was humiliating. And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.” You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic. “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you. From anyone else I wouldn’t care. But you were the one person I expected to understand me. The one person who got what it was like. So to hear you saying those things—god. I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you. And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing. “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed. “Just… just hold on.”

He runs away. You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven. He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom. “Just… here.”

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek. You snatch it away from him, frowning.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean. He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands. When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale. “Okay,” he says. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry. And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say. “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.”

“Right.” He runs his hand through his hair again. It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales. “God. Okay. This is gonna sound so stupid. But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually. I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse. I know. I shouldn’t have said it at all. I totally do know that. But also… I said it, but I didn’t. What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

“What,” you say, “the fuck?”

He waves his hands around defensively.

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.”

“A compliment,” you say. “A compliment? You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast. He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter. He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box. He dodges that too, ducking down again. The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground.

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow.

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender. He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says. “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say. You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too.

“Thank you,” he says. He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back. It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit.

You cross your arms. You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know. Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud.

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication.

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah. He closes his eyes and nods his head. “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time. The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?” Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I love bitches. No wait.” He shakes his head. “That came out wrong. Hold on. I love… well, yeah, no, bitches. Mean girls. Bullies. Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me. He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says. “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.”

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief.

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong. Remember when you told off that creep at the party? The one who was bugging Felix? You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing. I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking. Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.”

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission. You had no idea Jisung saw you that way. The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated. When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before. “Explain,” you say.

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender.

“Yup,” he says. “Okay. Fine. Cool. I like when women boss me around. I like when they are mean to me. I like when they hurt me and make me cry. It… it gets my dick hard, okay? I love bitches. I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night.

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is. You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand.

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply.

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping.

Oops, Jisung never hated you.

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long.

“So just to clarify,” you say. “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands. He laughs too, even while looking a little pained. “I did! I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride. I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen. I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity.

“I know, I really am,” he says. He draws an X over his chest. “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth. I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.”

He says it jokingly, of course. But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding.

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick. Maybe your emotions are right at the surface. Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding.

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him.

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation. “Slap you where? Your face?”

This clearly catches him off guard. He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out. He thumps a fist on his chest.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sure. Whatever, you know. You know.”

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other. You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat. All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream. Heat simmers below the surface of your skin. “And you like that? Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says. “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now? Oh my god. Hold on.” He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position. “Right, okay,” he says. “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling. You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement.

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too. “Don’t get shy. You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin. You shake your head. “I dunno. Just. Do something to earn a slap I guess. It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.”

“Do something?” he asks. “Uh, I dunno. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap. I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—”

Your slap him across the face. The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Jisung looks genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open. He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before. The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place.

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low.

“I don’t know,” you say softly. You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver. You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek. “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again.

You don’t ask for build-up this time. You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek.

This time it makes him whimper. It flushes you with heat.

“Oh my god,” you say. “What else?”

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.” He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath. He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place. “Um,” he says. “Choking. F-fingers? Fingers in my mouth... Um, haha, I can’t think. Bondage? Yeah. Erm, denial. Overstimulation. Puuussy… yes, um, pussy. On my face please. Uhh… Punishment. Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.”

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back. He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down.

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book. “Yeah. I hate you so much. You’re my worst enemy. Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle. “You’re hot. You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming. He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth. He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists. You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head. He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss. You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more.

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him. It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say. “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.”

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard. You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation. You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest. He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head.

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction. When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him. “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes.

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear. Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning.

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish. His smile is far too innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say.

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him. “I still hate you.”

“Oh god, yes,” he says. His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest. “More.”

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head. “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung. I’m going to ruin you.”

“Fuck.”

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face. You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over. What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you. You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him.

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs. You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants. He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice.

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well.

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin. He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side. He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips. His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth. “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh,” you say. Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough. “I see. You want to put your dick inside me, baby? Hmm? You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?”

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out. He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head. “Please, please. Yes.”

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck. You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression.

“Okay,” you say. “Get ready for me then.”

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency. Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover.

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you. He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist. He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again. It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth. You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little.

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you. You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him. His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace. He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest.

“Look at me,” you say.

He blinks his eyes open. You smile.

“Good boy.”

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him. It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper. You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm. You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back.

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation.

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you. Your whole body draws taut for its crest.

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy. You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you. “Not yet,” you say. “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes. “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy. “Are you gonna be good or bad?”

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you. You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out. His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.

His eyes open again, watery and huge.

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat. A deep breath shudders out of him. “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting. “Oh! Fuck!”

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices.

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up. He follows with a gasp.

“I should hit you again for that,” you say.

You slide off him, carefully. He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom. After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out. It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again. You get off the bed and drag him to follow. “I’m not done with you.”

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming. His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience. He thumps down heavily onto his knees. When he sways, you straighten him. He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding.

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in. For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy. You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished.

You lower your leg off his shoulder. Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess.

“Wow,” he says. He looks up at you. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.

“Me too,” you say, making him smile.

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb. You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face. You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort. “I am! Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say. “He told me he was working?”

“Working?” Jisung furrows his brow. “Huh? We don’t have anything coming up at work. He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family? He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.”

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud. “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that! I mean, I’m glad we did but…” You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you.

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks.

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can. I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall.

“Well,” you say, looking at him. You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you. “That’s fine,” you say. “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up. Looks like I found a replacement.”

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says. “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that. That’s just for me, right?”

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight. You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead. He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours. He smiles back.

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.”

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing. He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x dom!reader #sub!jisung x dom!reader #skz x reader #sub!skz x dom!reader

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 3 months

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Pairing : Idol!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : cheating ; breakup ; regret ; very angsty ; surprise pregnancy ; Word Count : 3.5k Request : it was the winner of the poll, does that count? A/N : Here we go!! Gonna make this one hurt!

You sat on the couch, knee bouncing, phone in your hand, watching as the clock at the top of your lock screen switched to 3 in the morning. Not a single text, not a call, nothing from the man whose selfie adorned your lock screen with his puffy cheeks and his adorable smile that you fell in love with every single time he flashed it at you. You had gotten nothing since he had left for the award show almost 9 hours ago, the award show that you had watched from start to finish, even catching the moment when all of the artists had gotten up to start heading out. He wasn’t there anymore… But he sure as hell wasn’t home.

Maybe he just went back to the dorms… Was what you had thought at first, just a simple thought to try to ease your mind and keep you from thinking the worst, but if that were the case you were sure that he would have texted you to let you know instead of keeping you up all night waiting for some type of communication. Had something bad happened? No, you would have seen it on the news and you were sure that you would have heard something by now. No… He was just ignoring you… Maybe he was just drunk.

Either way, you wanted to call him just to be sure, especially since you were tired of waiting around for him. You dialed his number and let it ring, and maybe you should have hung up after the third ring to save yourself the heartache that came once the phone was answered. Not by him though, by someone else… You wished it had been one of the guys, but it wasn’t… It was a girl, one that sounded drunk and flustered and… God, you didn’t even want to think about the sinful noises that were made between each word as you heard your fiance's drunken giggles in the background mixed with his own noises… Noises that you had heard on multiple occasions when you were the one sharing the bed with him.

“Sorry… wrong number…” You had mumbled, trying to hold back the sobs that were caught in your throat, feeling like they were going to choke you completely. You couldn’t breathe, your vision was a blur, the room felt like it was spinning, but you knew that the nauseous feeling wasn’t from being dizzy… No… it was from knowing that the man that you had planned on spending the rest of your life with, the man that you were willing to devote the rest of your life to was lower than low… And the men that you had trusted to look out for you like brothers look out for their sisters had most likely cheered on that man when he took another woman into his bedroom.

It was hard to remember when you fell asleep, but you knew that you didn’t do it on purpose considering you woke up on the couch the next morning curled up in the fetal position. Your eyelids felt heavy and the sunlight that poured in through the open window burned your sensitive eyes that had been draining tears like a faucet the night before. “Looks like someone fell asleep while watching the award show. You’re so cute, shnookems.” Jisungs voice sounded out from somewhere close by, although your sleep and tear blurred vision made it hard to focus on where he truly was.

You would have just thought that the night before was a bad dream, just some awful nightmare that you had since he wasn’t at home next to you, but when he let out that quiet little giggle it brought you back to the phone call and you felt sick all over again. “I hate you…” You said as flatly as possible, wiping the sleep from your eyes to finally focus on him, the way his smile faded to a look of shock at what you had said. “Don’t… Don’t talk to me… I hate you… I’m done with you.”

Not even a good morning, nothing to start the day so that you could lead into the breakup. You went straight for it, diving headfirst into the conversation. “Wh-What are you talking about? Babe, come on… That’s… That’s not funny. Come on… You must have had a bad dream or something… let’s get you some coffee.” He stammered, pushing himself up off the recliner to walk over to where you were now sitting up on the couch, fresh tears already brewing on your bottom lashes.

His hands were outstretched, waiting for you to grab them or maybe even take your place between his arms, but you smacked them away, shaking your head as you glared up at him. “You’re shit! You’re a lousy, no good, cheater! And don’t you even try to lie to me and say that you didn’t because I fucking heard you, Jisung!” You shouted, although your voice cracked on multiple occasions. You were devastated, heartbroken, but most of all you were pissed.

So badly you wanted him to deny it, to tell you that it wasn’t true, but his hesitation and the look of guilt that washed over his features was enough for you to know that it hadn’t been a bad dream, that what you heard was real. “Babe… Let’s just… Can we talk about it?” He whispered, keeping his hands at his sides although you could see in the way that they were twitching that he wanted nothing more than to hold you, although you would have just pushed him away if he tried to.

“Talk about what? I don’t want to hear lies or excuses. I heard enough last night. I waited up for you after the fucking show, I waited until 3 in the goddamn morning… And I called you… And some… Some other girl answered and I… I fucking heard everything. You disgust me! I want nothing to do with you!” You finally pushed yourself off the couch, trying to move past him, but his arms wrapped around you, trying so hard to keep you from walking away. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!” You screamed, pushing him away from you.

It seemed so hypocritical for him to be crying right now, especially since you were the one that had been cheated on, but alas, the tears that flowed down your cheeks were perfectly mirrored on his face. “I was drunk! I was drunk and I know that’s not an excuse, but I really… I truly didn’t mean it! I swear to god, I didn’t!” He sobbed, taking tiny steps towards you, but for each small step that he took, you took two more back. “Baby… please… I love you so fucking much… I… I can’t breathe… I just… I need to know that things will be okay. I can… I’m sorry… If you need space, I can do that… Just don’t… Don’t leave me… Please.”

“How…” You scoffed, shaking your head, laughing in both shock and disbelief at the audacity that he had to even try to plead. “How can you possibly be so fucking selfish? You don’t have the right to tell me not to leave after you cheated on me. I’m done. We’re over. You can…” You pulled the ring from your finger, the ring that you promised that you’d never take off… But that was before all this, before you knew how he really was. “You can have this back, I don’t want it. I don’t want any parts of you. I’m so fucking glad that this happened before I was dumb enough to marry you.” You threw the ring to the floor right at his feet, the diamond facets reflecting the light of the sun. “Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t try to have one of the guys try to get in touch with me either. I don’t want anything to do with you or anything that you do once I walk out that door.”

“Then don’t walk out…” The words rushed out as he swiped the ring off the floor and ran over to where you were standing. “I’m stupid… I’m so stupid. I don’t want to lose this… I don’t want to lose you. One chance… I just want one chance to prove to you that… That I didn’t mean to do it, I’ll never do it again. It was a mistake!”

“Would you just stop already?!” You hissed, whipping around on your heel to face him as he followed you into the bedroom. “This is hard enough for me, and I don’t need you hounding me about how sad you are because you fucked up. You don’t deserve a second chance, you don’t deserve anymore chances because you’re a cheater, and once a cheater, always a cheater. So either help me pack my shit up so I can get the fuck away from you, or go sit and wallow in your self pity in the living room while I do it myself.”

///

“So you’re not gonna say anything about it? You’re not even gonna tell him?” Soobin asked as he sat across from you in the little cafe. He had been your savior since you had left Jisung, allowing you to crash in the dorms at night until it got to the point where he eventually just told you that you might as well live there. He and the rest of the boys rarely ever saw the ones that you were trying to avoid unless they were on music shows, but Jisung was none the wiser that you, Soobin, and the rest of the guys had gotten so close. It made it easy to stay with them and practically hide out in their dorm until you made enough money to get a place of your own.

“Soob… With all due respect, I haven’t even had the time to process it myself, and the last thing I want to deal with is my ex fiance coming back into my life when it’s been turned upside down once again.” You retorted, running your hands over your face as you let out a loud sigh. “I’ve got so much shit that I have to figure out, and I have less than 4 months to do it. I’m stressed enough as it is… I don’t need him to add onto that.”

It was crazy, but you were pregnant, and to find out when you were already 5 months along was even crazier. You hadn’t gained any weight that you knew about, and even if you did gain anything, it wasn’t enough for you to think that it was from anything but maybe eating a little bit more than you usually would. You had experienced no symptoms at all, and you were so stressed with life itself that you hadn’t even cared for the fact that you might have missed a few periods, you even accompanied the lateness to the overload of stress.

It wasn’t until you felt something weird, the movement in your stomach, that you asked Yeonjun to take you to the hospital because you had for some reason assumed that you had somehow gotten worms. “But it would be his kid, right? I mean… Doesn’t he have the right to know? I’m not telling you to do it now… But… I mean… it’s his kid.” Soobin tried to reason with you, and you hated that you had decided to confide in one of the two level headed ones in the group, but he was also easier to talk with and you were closer with him than the others.

“I’m not going to hide it from him… I’m just not ready to tell him yet. Let me work this out in my own head first and then I’ll drop the bomb on him.” Although you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to tell him. Sure, it was his child, but you also didn’t want to have to deal with sharing custody of this surprise child with your cheating ex. It would be so much easier to just raise the baby yourself and if anyone asked, you could just say that it was someone else’s, although that felt morally wrong… But then again, what Jisung did was morally wrong as well. “I’ve got to figure out housing, I’ve got to tell my boss… It’s a lot… I don’t want to deal with him right now.”

Soobin nodded, humming understandingly as he reached across the table, placing his hand over top of yours that was drumming nervously against the wooden top. “It is a lot, and that’s why me and the guys are going to help you. You can continue staying at the dorms, even after the baby is born if you don’t find a place soon enough. We will help you.” And maybe it was the hormones that caused it, but the kindness of his words and the softness in his eyes had you uncontrollably weeping in the tiny cafe. “Oh boy… Uhm… Come on… Let’s get you back home.”

///

Jisung sat in the interview chair, his mind cloudy from lack of sleep. Promotional tours and mini shows had him exhausted, and working on the new album kept him busier than he usually would be. He was thankful for it though, unable to think too much about his mistakes, having no time to think about you and what you might be doing. He missed you, but it was clear from the lack of texts or calls back that you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had blocked him, and he wouldn’t blame you if you did, but it would be better that way so you wouldn’t have to read the texts that he sent you daily about how sorry he was and how much he loved you.

“Are you ready to start?” The interviewer asked, and all the guys nodded in unison, all except Jisung who was trying his best to just keep his head from falling forward and dozing off. “Great! So, my first question is for Han…” The sound of his name had his eyes shooting open, pretending that he wasn’t on the verge of passing out right then and there, nodding to let the interviewer know that she could keep going. “So, we’ve all read the headlines and, we’ve come up with our own conclusions regarding some recent events in your life…” The vagueness had Jisung lowering his eyebrows questioningly, waiting for her to get to her point, but a part of him had a sinking feeling on where the question was going. “How do you feel about your ex fiancee being seen out on dates with another idol?”

Jisung wasn’t very up to date on current news, especially in the world of music considering he had his own headlines to make with the upcoming album. He hadn’t seen anything about you being out on dates with anyone, especially another idol, and he surely hadn’t heard about it in his little circle of other famous friends. He wasn’t even sure if what the interviewer was saying was true, but if it was, his genuine reaction would be heartbroken, but he had to play it off like he wasn’t. “Well, we’ve been apart for… For a while now and… Well, if whoever she’s with is making her happy, who am I to be upset about that. I want nothing but the best for her and whoever she may be with…” He said, trying his best to sound confident, but he was already getting choked up and he felt his eyes glossing over as tears threatened to fall. “Can we take a quick break? I’m sorry.”

Minho was quick to follow behind the younger man who had rushed into the closest corner as he tried to cry as quietly as possible, which was quite hard, and it felt like all the eyes in the room were on him right now. “Hey… Hey, come on man. Calm down. We don’t even know if it was Y/N that was in whatever pictures that the interviewer was talking about. It could have been anyone, and you know that sometimes interviewers say things to try to get certain reactions out of us. It’s okay…” He tried to pat Jisungs shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, but when the younger man turned around he was an absolute wreck.

“But what if it is her? I know it’s been months, and I know I fucked up, but I don’t want her with anyone else. I want to be the one to make her happy and take her on dates. I want to be the one that comes home to her at night and cuddles up next to her.” Minho grimaced at the cringy images that were being painted in his mind right now, but he tried to hide it, he was really trying to be there for Jisung even though he knew what had happened, and if asked to take a side, although not in front of Jisung, he would take yours in a heartbeat. “What other idol would do that? I’m so nice to everyone… Who would take her from me like that? Why?”

Minho shook his head, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out slowly. “I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself. You need to calm down and finish the interview, and then we’ll go home and work things out after we figure out what is going on. Okay?” Minho offered, and in the back of his mind he was hoping that whoever it was in the picture wasn’t you because that would surely only make things worse, and Minho didn’t want to see Jisung worse than what he was right now.

///

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asked, and you turned the corner of the hall to look at him, about to open your mouth to question what he was talking about or who he was talking to, but he quickly lifted his finger to his lips in a motion for you to stay silent, which you quickly obliged to. “Jisung, she’s not here. I don’t know what pictures you thought you saw, but I really think you’re freaking out for no reason.” He put his phone on speaker so you could listen, and part of you wished that he hadn’t because hearing Jisung put two and two together was making you freak out just as much as he was.

“I’m not freaking out for no reason!” Jisungs shrill voice screeched through the speakers of Soobins phone. “I know what my fiancee looks like! I’ve had multiple photos taken of her and I like that! I know that’s her! Why are you with her?! You took her from me!” He continued shouting, and you could hear his voice breaking at the end of each sentence and then the heavy shaking breaths as he tried to catch his breath between crying and speaking.

Soobin shook his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Clearly Jisung wasn’t going to back down, and you didn’t want Soobins life to be made harder by Jisungs constant badgering, so just as Soobin was about to speak, you spoke up. “He didn’t take me from you.” You stated matter-of-factly, and Soobins mouth fell open as silence filled Jisungs end of the line. “You cheated on me. You caused this. And you can stop attacking him. It’s not like we’re together, I’m not with anyone right now because I’ve got bigger things to deal with and handle then finding someone else to be in my life.”

You heard Jisung gasp, and then the shuffle of feet as he seemingly ran off somewhere, maybe somewhere more private, or maybe somewhere where all of the guys were, you weren’t quite sure. “Why… Why are you hiding from me? Why are you ignoring me? I just want to see you… I just… I need to see you. I fucked things up, I get that… But… Maybe we can be friends… I still want you in my life, Y/N…” He whispered, and it made it clear that wherever he went, it was far away from anyone and everyone. “Can we just meet up or something? I can even come over to their dorms if you don’t want to be alone with me… Just… Something, anything… please?”

You looked around the dorm that was littered with boxes from nursery furniture, a stockpile of diapers, wipes, and baby bottles and powdered formula just so that you’d be ready. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to come over here and see you without figuring out what was going on. “No… I… I don’t want to see you.” You muttered, biting your bottom lip, and for some reason, foolishly waiting for Jisung to understand.

“Well… I don’t care. I want to see you and… And I’m coming over. I’m coming over to see you dammit.” He said, and before you or Soobin could argue against it, the call had ended, leaving you and Soobin to stare at each other with panicked eyes. This wouldn’t end well… There’s no way it could.

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736 notes · View notes

babyboybuckley · 2 years

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Oh my god I'm being a brave boy and rewatching Rage and the arbitration hearing is causing me actual physical pain right now

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bandgie · 2 months

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On Your Knees

ONE | TWO

incel!Seungmin x fem!reader

warnings! MDNI18+, drinking implications (no one is drunk) dubious??, pussy eating, face fucking (m!), hate sex (but no sex) seungmin is an ass (low key misogynistic), reader is kinda mean note! this is not meant to represent Seungmin or any of the members in any way. I just like the trope :)

2.7k words

The party was getting boring in all honesty. Truth-or-Dare is only fun for the first couple of minutes but gets repetitive. Same old questions on who you're fucking, if you're fucking someone, if you've ever fucked someone. The flat beer sloshes in your red solo cup as you sit on the floor of the living room.

You can tell Han is trying to come up with something interesting to ask Seungmin. Most of the somewhat funny questions were already asked, but Han still purses his lips as he thinks of something clever.

"Okay, I got it!" He claps his hands. "Best pussy you've ever eaten. Go."

Ah, I guess that's something, you think as you divert your attention to the cross-legged man beside you.

Seungmin is awfully quiet at house parties and looks as though he would rather be anywhere else. You don't like Seungmin, but you don't not like him. He's just a guy Han likes to bring around on occasion. You observe Seungmin raise an eyebrow, in surprise most likely. But what he says is even more shocking.

"Never eaten pussy."

"What?!" Everyone collectively shouts at his admission. Now this peaks your interest as you stare wide-eyed at him. "No way," you can't fathom the thought of someone in college never tasting a cunt. "Are you a virgin?"

Your bold question makes Chan choke on his drink, coughing until the bitter liquid finally passes through. "Jeez dude, you just can't ask that."

"It's literally Truth-or-Dare. I literally can," you retort.

The clamor of everyone settles as they wait for Seungmin to answer. Now that he can feel the pressure of everyone's eyes, he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. "I'm not a virgin," he says. "I just don't eat pussy."

"What the fuck?" You make a confused expression. "You don't eat pussy? Fuck does that mean?" Seungmin finally casts his gaze on you, acknowledging your presence for the first time tonight. "Exactly what I mean. I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" Han sounds exasperated. "You gotta be fucking with me. There's no way you fuck a girl and not want to eat her pussy." Despite Han being an idiot half the time, you agree with him. Every guy you've hooked up with jumps at the chance to eat you out and you know plenty of them would do it for nothing in exchange.

To meet a guy who's never had the opportunity to only means two things, and you're praying it's not what you're thinking.

"I just fuck to cum. I don't really care if she finishes or not."

It's worse than you could have imagined.

The room goes dead quiet and you suddenly figure out why Han doesn't bring Seungmin around too often. His stiff posture, his blank expression, the way he hardly regards you in any manner. It all points to signs of the worst type of man.

"So like what?" You can't help the clipped tone in your voice. "You some type of incel?"

Chan, who likes to keep the peace, says your name in warning. "Don't start." Though he means well, the fact that you're the one getting in trouble for speaking up only fuels your fire. "Don't start? He's the one who started with his dumb incel shit."

Seungmin scowls, "Ugh. I didn't even say anything bad. You're being so emotional."

The tips of your ears burn red and you feel your entire body heat up. You can hear Chan trying to diffuse the situation, but you hardly care about maintaining 'the peace' any longer.

"Oh, fuck off," you sneer at Seungmin. "You can't even make a girl finish. Fucking incel virgin."

Now that does it for him. You see Seungmin tighten his hands into fists as his neck grows red. "I'm not a virgin. And I can make a girl cum. I just don't care to." He enunciates his words harshly, some speckles of spit landing on your face. Both of your jaws are tense, teeth clenching as you glare into each other's eyes.

A vein sticks from his neck and his lips are stretched back into somewhat of a snarl. With a flushed expression, you easily see his cheeks heat up in anger. It's here that you realize he looks good when he's mad. You hate it.

"Okaayyy!" Chan claps his hands three times loudly. "I think it's time to call it a night." Everyone tries to stand and talk about anything else, but Seungmin and you are too busy having your own little conversation to notice.

"Never eaten pussy, can't make a girl come. Why you lying about being a virgin?" You mimic the vicious on Seungmin's face. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, "Whoring yourself out for a fuck. You're everything that's wrong with women today."

This makes you laugh, "At least they make me cum."

If you thought Seungmin was mad before, he's furious now. You must have struck a nerve because he stands suddenly and spins on his heel to leave.

But you're not done with the conversation. You raise on your feet and follow him, never ceasing to stop your vicious spewing, "Just be honest with me, Min. It's okay to have never felt a woman's touch. Not that you ever will, being an incel that is."

Seungmin hurries up the stairs of the house with you on his tail. You can't see his face, but you can feel the anger rolling off him.

He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you effectively bump into his back. "I'm not an incel," he keeps his voice low, but strong. "Eating pussy isn't even all that. You just have an ego bigger than your tits."

You try and play it off with a scoff, but you feel your face heat up. You grope your chest offendedly; you like your boobs. "Not all that? Come here." Pushing on Seungmin's back, you lead him to the nearby bathroom and shove him inside. He stumbles and trips over his feet, shooting a hand out to balance himself on the counter as you close and lock the door behind you.

"Fuck was that for?" He whips his head around to glare at you, but he's surprised to be met with an eerie smile on your face instead. He gulps nervously, "What are you looking at?"

You shrug nonchalantly, "Looking at someone who's going to eat me out." Seungmin looks as though you've slapped him across the face as his eyes widen. "What? Who said I was gonna do that?"

You're already hiking your skirt up to your torso, biting the cloth between your teeth, and showing the pretty little thong you put on in hopes of a hookup. It barely manages to over your clit and you can see the outline of your pussy underneath the material. With one hand, you use the tip of your finger to draw soft circles on it. Seungmin drops his eyes to your clothed core.

His Adam apple bobs.

"Come on," you wiggle your eyebrows playfully. "Get on your knees for me."

For a second, you think he's gonna walk out. He was so persistent about not wanting to eat pussy and his shitty attitude was...well...shitty. You begin to think that there's no hope for Seungmin, but he proves you wrong by bending one knee and looking up at you.

"I'm just going to look," he says more to himself than to you. "Just so you could stop your whining."

His hands grip the plushness of your thighs as he stretches the skin. The lips of your pussy peek out at the movement, but Seungmin is far from disgusted. His ears pick up on the sound your cunt makes when he uses his thumb to pull and push the skin together. Slowly, he moves his hand up to pull your thong down, exposing the very thing he claims to revolt against.

You shiver against his warm breath, his warm touch. You reach your hands down to pull up on the skin of your pelvis to further stretch your pussy. "Getting a good look, Seungmin?" You giggle at the annoyed expression on his face. His lips may be pulled pursed into a frown, but his eyes are wide with lust.

Seungmin is trying his best to hold back, but it's near impossible. Everything about you surrounds him: your smell, your soft skin, the way your voice echoes in the bathroom. He shocks himself with how much he enjoys watching your clit peek from your pussy lips and how the first signs of arousal make your entire cunt shine.

"Shut up," he mumbles.

You're thinking of a witty remark to snap at him, but you're instead pleasantly surprised with his lips ghosting over your core. Your body stills, letting Seungmin explore pussy on his tongue for the first time. He runs his lips over your own, feeling how soft and warm it is. Seungmin already knew how hot a cunt is, but tasting it on his lips is a whole other level of heat.

"Mmm," you hum at the sensation. "What happened to just getting a look?"

Seungmin looks up at you, mouth still attached to your core. His nose bumps on your lower stomach with his hair tousled over his face. Before you can think, you brush the bangs from his face to get a good view of his form. The sight makes you groan, bucking your hips further into his face. Seungmin makes a hmmf! sound as you bury his face deeper into your pussy, but he makes no move to deny you.

It's not until you start rocking your hips that he finally sticks his tongue out. He starts at the peak of your pussy, letting the nub roll over his tongue experimentally. Seungmin notes how your legs shake when he does that. He feels your hips still so he could properly suck on that part of your cunt.

The taste of you settles on Seungmin's tastebuds and he finds his tongue digging deeper into your lips. They dip down to your labia before going back up. He likes how soaked you make his wet tongue, how your hands twist his floppy hair to drive him deeper. He hates how much he likes it.

Truthfully, you're in the same boat. His mouth may not be experienced, but you upsettingly like how he lets you ride his face. "See Sungie?" You say his name mockingly. "Not too bad, is it?"

Seungmin doesn't stay put in your cunt. This time, he pulls away from your throbbing core to talk back. "I never said it was goo- mmf!" As lovely as it would have been to hear his voice, you reason that his words may not have been as nice. You had gripped the back of his head and forced him back to your center, uncaring how he gently slapped the back of your thighs in disapproval.

"Just shut up and stick your tongue out." You're impatient needless to say. Seungmin can tell by how you keep one hand steady on his head while the other gives his cheek light taps. "Open up, come on." You probe the man between your legs until he finally relents, widening his jaw so your entire clit fits in his mouth.

You hum at his mouth taking your core in, "Good boy. See? You were made to eat pussy."

Then you hook one of your thighs over his shoulder and wrap that leg around his body until his face is pushed against you. His eyes widen, screaming at you as if saying this wasn't part of the deal! But the panic only makes you laugh. He can pretend all he wants, but you know the bulge in his pants all too well as you look down on him.

Grinding on his face is easy with you in complete control. You sloppily rub your cunt all over his tongue with his head following your movements. Seungmin groans and grunts in your cunt, but it's far from the disdain he was filled with earlier. His hips thrust into the air at the feel of your essence dripping down his chin.

His jolts make you chuckle breathlessly. "Fuck, just look at you. You wanna cum? You wanna cum, don't you?"

Screw his pride, screw any stupid podcast he's watched, he needs to cum. He wants to feel your pussy clench on his cock, not his tongue. Yet, he can't find it in himself to tear himself away from your clit. If you taste this good already, he can't imagine the savor of you creaming on his tongue.

To not let a second go by without his mouth on you, he nods, looking up at you pleadingly. He's sorry for being a dick, for being an incel. If you let him finish in you, he'll never-

"Sucks to suck," you shatter his dream. "You're gonna make me cum. Don't move."

And he doesn't, but it's not because he means to obey you. You have Seungmin on his knees, mouth enclosing over your pussy while you tug on his hair and hump his face and you're not going to let him finish? At all?

Then there's no point of him being here. Seungmin should tear your grip off him and leave the bathroom, but he can't. Fuck, he can't. It's like you've put a curse on him, glued him to the floor with his jaw unhinged and tongue out as you grind on his face.

It has to be witchcraft because why else would he still be here? Does he really like the taste of you that much? Maybe it's how you look; flushed, sweaty, close to a high Seungmin's never been able to bring a girl to. Seeing you so close to your orgasm makes him eager to stay, eager to please. And god, he loves how your clit twitches in his mouth.

"Shit," you curse. "Gonna cum. Imma cum all over your face. You want that? Want my cream all over your tongue?"

Seungmin would rather die than tell you the truth, so he responds by sucking harshly on your clit. The suction is enough to tip you over the edge, digging your nails into his scalp as you bend the upper half of your body over him.

Your cunt pluses around nothing, but that hardly matters when you hear Seungmin gulping down your release. The very same man who claims to not like eating pussy, to not care if his partner finishes. That man eagerly licking you clean with his eyes rolling behind his head.

You shiver and mewl as you cum, softly grinding your hips to come down from your high. "God- fuck! Put your tongue in my pussy."

He does, finally getting a feel of your walls for the first time. They squeeze and pulse around his tongue and he gives a few testing thrusts that you respond to positively.

Fuck, you taste even better inside.

Seungmin can't stop fucking his tongue deep inside you. Not even as you wrap your leg from him and straighten up. A part of you debates on whether or not to let him keep going. At this rate, he might make you finish a second time, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of that. Plus, you've been gone long enough for the other men to question your whereabouts.

You place the palm of your hand on his forehead and push him away. The shove makes him detach from your cunt with a lewd pop! as he catches himself backward on his hands.

"Geez. You're gonna lick it off," you pick your underwear up and step through the leg holes, ignoring how uncomfortable it feels on your sensitive cunt. Seungmin seems in a daze as you drop your skirt from your lips and adjust the material. Even as you walk closer to the mirror and touch up your make-up, Seungmin stays in place on the ground.

He liked it. Dear god, he loved it. Even with the tent in his pants, he hardly seems to notice how his cock throbs when he can still taste you on his lips. You only face-fucked him to prove a point, but you changed the trajectory of his life forever.

Yet, you wash your hands and use a hand towel to dry yourself like you didn't just make Seungmin question his entire purpose. You throw the rag to the man on his knees, managing to land it on his lap. "Your face is soaked. Clean it before they see how much of a munch you are, yeah?"

a/n: idk why I was at work was thought "yk what would be hot? making an incel seungmin worship you" and boom, this was birthed. I kinda wanna make a part two I have ideeassss also two fics in one week?? who am I? thank you for reading!

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz seungmin #seungmin x reader #stray kids seungmin #seungmin smut #seungmin #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #sub!skz #sub!stray kids #seungmin skz smut

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cinnajun · 9 months

Text

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: zb1 when they get jealous

a/n: this is my istj waiting room activity

notes: yujin is not included due to his age, jiwoong’s is set in the real world (aka he’s an idol), did not proofread

wc | 4.2k

jiwoong

i don’t think jiwoong gets jealous often

it’s just not his first thought when it comes to certain things LOL

but, depending on the situation, he absolutely will get jealous, but not in the way most people do

many people digest jealousy/envy as a big emotion but i don’t think it’s very big for jiwoong

and he knows that his jealousy isn’t something you should have to deal with but he doesn’t want to deal with it either so he’ll do his best to get rid of the issue without you knowing, which means making up creative ways to squash the situation

they all incorporate wherever you are

so let’s say you’re at the mall, you’re waiting for him to get out of a store, and a guy walks up to you and starts chatting you up

jiwoong will walk up to you and smile at whatever guy is flirting with you, acting completely fine

and then he’ll dip down and whisper something into your ear, and it’s usually something super unserious

“there’s a 50% sale at the ice cream shop and you get a fun cup for free”

you’re gone, he’s happy, and whatever guy was chatting you up is completely out of the picture

things are different when it comes to his members though

he always knew you liked kids and was well aware that you often volunteered to help out with kids, and he knew that you tutored high school students throughout university

nevertheless, jiwoong never thought han yujin would be his worst enemy

JIWOONG IS NORMALLY the most patient person you know—he can sit with you in a shop for an hour, watching you debate over two different mugs to buy without voicing one complaint. However, for some reason, watching you cook Yujin’s lunch is the worst thing he’s ever had to experience.

You had insisted on it after finding out he was planning on going to school after how long they’d been promoting, saying that it would be hard for him to go to school without anyone to cook him lunch. Jiwoong insisted that Hanbin probably would’ve, but you brushed him off, saying it wouldn’t take you long.

An hour and a half later, he was still sitting there, watching you cut watermelon into flowers. It was nearly 8 o’clock, and the movie you were going to was due to start at 8:45—meaning you had to leave soon.

“Are you almost done?” he asked, putting his down on the counter. You scoffed, putting the lid onto the last section of Yujin’s lunch box.

“What’s up with you?” you asked, beginning to wrap it up. “You’ve asked three times in the last hour.”

“I’m jealous that you’re spending more time fussing over Yujin’s lunch than hanging out with your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen in a long time.”

“You’re jealous over Yujin?” you asked, exasperated, turning around and putting your hands on your hips. “He’s your kid too! You should help out! What father is jealous of their own child?”

zhang hao

there are 2 men in zb1 that don’t get jealous literally ever and hao is one of them

literally how could he be jealous when he’s zhang hao

most of the time, actually, you’re the one getting jealous (which makes sense, because he’s zhang hao)

and he always mocks you for it, which you hate

he’ll say something like “aw, do you think they’re going to steal me away from you?” and you have to resist the urge to punch him in the stomach

so when he actually gets jealous it is sooooo much fun for you

you milk it to no end. it is an opportunity you CANNOT waste

most of the time, it happens at his fancy violinist events, where you meet other people who are just as talented and impressive as him (and sometimes, they’re pretty attractive, too)

when he’s jealous, he sticks to your side and gets a little bit mean, especially towards whoever he’s jealous of

gets super touchy too

has a hand around your waist and drags you around with him just to make sure everyone gets the big picture

one day, he notices you and hanbin have been hanging out a lot all of a sudden, and it makes him really, really jealous

mostly because he can’t do his little flaunt routine, because he’s flaunted you to him enough

and then you realize he’s jealous that you and hanbin have been spending a lot of time together planning his birthday party

so obviously you capitalize on it immediately

it backfires on you

HAO WASN’T TRYING to be dramatic, but when he swung the door to Hanbin’s apartment open, having dug the spare key out from under the mat, he couldn’t help but march in like a soldier going to war.

You and Hanbin were sitting at his dining table, both of your laptops open. You had a cup of tea on the table, too, in a mug Hao knew he’d gifted Hanbin for his birthday a couple of years back.

“You let him make you tea?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air like he was in some sort of drama. Both you and Hanbin stared at him in a mix of shock and confusion, wondering what in the world had caused him to barge in like that. Sure, you were beginning to pick up the fact that he was jealous of your business meetings with his best friend, but you weren’t exactly aware of how far you’d let it progress.

“Well, I made the tea—”

“You know where he keeps his tea?” he cut you off, staring at you while tapping his foot on the ground. “I am sick of this. How am I being left out by my partner and my best friend? What did I do to deserve this?”

“I think you’re getting the wrong idea,” Hanbin said, slowly closing his laptop. “We aren’t hanging out, per se, so we aren’t exactly leaving you out.”

“Then why have you spent hours upon hours together over the past week?”

You placed a hand over your mouth, trying to stop from laughing. “Hao, please be serious. What’s next week?”

His cheeks turned bright red, and you wished you could’ve got his big outburst on video.

hanbin

i am a believer that hanbin get sooo jealous (have you seen him glare at people's interaction with hao LOL)

he’s like the nicest guy on earth so there has to be one negative emotion that he feels

and it’s quite literally only over his loved ones, nothing else

will get jealous if people spend too much time with hao

will get even more jealous if people steal your attention away from him

he doesn’t even get jealous over things he should be getting jealous over, it’s things he hallucinates

“that guy stared at you a little too weirdly…”

“he was just our waiter?”

“still he was too friendly…i got bad vibes”

when hanbin gets jealous, though, it’s not very serious and never causes a problem between you two

he might hold your hand a little tighter or not be very fond of leaving you alone, but otherwise it’s not an issue

there are instances where his jealousy can get serious, and most of the time it’s pretty warranted (and this is when hanbin leans towards protective)

you’ll be watching one of his performances among a bunch of his peers and someone will get a little too touchy with you

and dancers are very hot so he might get a little insecure too

he will stomp over to you, sweaty and tired, and drag you away without saying a word to whoever was chatting you up

other than that his jealousy is kind of cute

hanbin doesn’t view any of the boys as enemies but sometimes matthew can be super cute

and while he considers matthew one of his best friends sometimes he forgets that matthew is just like that and isn’t trying to woo you

matthew, however, is well versed in the art that is hanbinism and is immune to it

YOU KNOW HANBIN like the back of your hand. He’s sweet, pretty, and enjoys being around the people he loves. And, you know for a fact Matthew is one of the people he loves. Nevertheless, when he skips up to you two with a white rose he picked, Taerae in tow, you can practically see a vein pop out of Hanbin’s head.

“Look at how pretty this is!” he smiled, and you nodded, agreeing with him. “Taerae and I found a bush of them, and I figured I’d pick one to give to you.”

You hear Hanbin scoff, and, feeling panic rush up your throat, you turn to him with horror flowing through you. The look in his eyes is dangerous, and a sort of shallow smile appears on his face—you don’t like it one bit. You turn back to Matthew, who seems completely unphased, and instead keeps talking.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to Hanbin. He stares at it, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“I thought you were giving it to [First]?”

“Huh? That would be weird,” Matthew replies, tilting his head. You hear Taerae begin to laugh, likely at Hanbin, and you have to hold back a little chuckle as well. “Wouldn’t you be the one to give a rose to them? Anyway, here you go.”

Hanbin, dumbfounded, takes the rose from Matthew’s hand, and he and Taerae disappear off into the distance.

matthew

matthew is #2 of men in zb1 who don’t get jealous often

literally doesn’t have the brain capacity for it

he’s like a universal friend, and universal friends don’t get jealous of anybody, nor do they distrust their significant others

a more appropriate word to use would be uncomfortable

at least that’s what matthew says when he gets jealous LOL

he genuinely doesn’t think he feels jealous because he doesn’t have any worry that whoever is talking to you is going to “steal” you away from him, but he certainly doesn’t appreciate anybody hardcore flirting with you

he can handle a “you’re so pretty” or an “i love your outfit” but if someone is persisting and he can tell you’re uncomfortable (both factors have to be present, or he’ll just let you handle it yourself) he will do his best to shut it down

but in the matthew way

so he walks over to you with a big smile on his face and starts talking to you like he normally would

“hey, babe, i lost you for a second”

whoever’s talking to you literally can’t keep going because of how nice matthew is

“oh, who’s this? it’s nice to meet you! i’m [first]’s boyfriend, matthew”

they’re gone within 2 minutes and matthew is feeling successful

he’ll probably give you a kiss on the cheek afterwards just to hammer home his point

he will, however, admit that he gets jealous of the other members lol

it’s mostly because he considers them his friends, though, so the idea that you’d be into one of them is scary to him

as a result, he gets a little wary when he stumbles upon you chatting with jiwoong at a party

BEFORE MATTHEW LEFT to go get a drink, you were sitting on the couch, playing a game on your phone. He planned to tell you that you could leave after he finished the drink, but when he returned, Jiwoong was sitting across from you, speaking with you.

The smile on your face was genuine, and you seemed overjoyed that you weren’t bored anymore. And, subconsciously, Matthew took it as you being happy that Jiwoong was talking to you, and not because you were glad you wouldn’t have to drag Matthew away from his friends anymore (which was the truth).

He sat back down next to you, sitting on the edge of the seat and putting his cup down on the coffee table. You smiled at him, and Jiwoong said his hellos, to which Matthew replied less than enthusiastically.

“We were just chatting about the new art exhibit that opened up at the museum. You know, the one we went to last week?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, taking a long sip of the drink. You raised an eyebrow, finally picking up that Matthew was feeling a bit jealous. “You planning on going again, or something?”

“Nope,” Jiwoong cut in, leaning back in his chair. “Actually, [First] was just talking about how much she enjoyed going with you, as you seemed to like it a lot. She said your eyes were sparkling the entire time.”

Matthew shut up quick after that, and you didn’t mention it ever again.

taerae

taerae’s jealousy is silent

you won’t know he’s jealous until well after the event has occurred

he might bring it up in passing weeks later and you’re absolutely dumbfounded

mostly because you had no clue

“you were jealous?”

“yeah, he kept staring at your lips and was getting super touchy with you. how would i not be jealous?”

you think about the interaction for hours afterward, you skim through all the memories, and you cannot figure out where he conveyed he was jealous

he’s so good at masking any negative emotion that when you manage to notice his jealousy it’s almost a little bit scary

you’ll be talking with someone, it doesn’t matter who, and you’ll look over at him for a second and notice this weird look in his eyes

and then you’ll be hyperaware of how everything he says has this sharp edge to it

little jabs that neither you or whoever you’re talking to would be able to pick up unless they were actively looking for hostility

lowkey it’s kind of attractive LOL

taerae’s usually the picture of “kind” so seeing him go into a lockdown mode is a bit fun for you, even if it’s barely noticeable

after the event that made him jealous he’s super touchy with you which is also fun for you

because taerae gives gooood hugs and is comfortable to lay on

so, long story short, if he’s ever jealous of the boys you don’t know until afterward

sometimes even weeks after the fact

and obviously when you were fawning over zhang hao after his violin recital, which taerae had taken you to, you weren’t exactly aware of the way he was staring at hao

WHEN TAERAE GRABS your hand about a minute into your drive, lacing all of your fingers together and pulling your hand onto his lap, your jaw drops. You turn to look at him with shock on your face, trying to find the words to say. “No way,” you gasped, putting your other hand over your mouth.

He looks over at you for a brief second, confused as to why you’re suddenly making such a big deal that he was holding your hand. “What? I don’t understand.”

“You were jealous? Of Hao?” you exclaimed, letting your hand drop from your mouth. “Why? I mean, he did well, did he not? Was I too complimentary? Do I need to reel it back next time?”

“What? No, you were just being nice. Where did you get the idea I was jealous?”

“You say that, but in a month and a half, you’re going to be like, ‘You know what made me super jealous?’ and then you’re going to drop three bombs on me,” you replied. “And this is going to be included. So, just say it now, so we can get it over with.”

Taerae blinked a couple of times, tightening his grip on your hand. “Okay, maybe I was a little jealous—”

You wrenched your hand away from his, clapping excitedly. “Oh, I’m a genius! I have a degree in Taeraeology now, seriously.”

“What in the world is Taeraeology?”

ricky

when ricky gets jealous it’s like not a competition

he just shuts the situation down

i mean he’s so tall and so gorgeous that anybody who tries anything with you is immediately so intimidated the moment he does anything, he barely even has to talk

he literally has a neck tattoo like that’s terrifying

as a result he does not have the time to get seriously jealous because anyone who’s flirting with you is sprinting away the moment they lay eyes on him approaching you

most of the time people don’t even try anything anyway because they see you with him before you’re separated

for the few that are willing to stand up to ricky, it’s pretty funny for you to watch

“[first], who’s this?” and you watch the competitor cartoon-gulp right in front of you

they maybe last about 15 seconds before they bid you goodbye out of pure intimidation like good for you ricky

if it’s one of the days where he looks incredibly cute and soft (you know what i’m talking about) things tend to go south because ricky is awkward and his strong suit is rbf

at which point you end up having to be the one to be like “okay, me and my boyfriend are going to head out now!” LOL

among the jebis the only one ricky is going to get jealous of is gyuvin and that’s because they’re the same age and very close

he knows gyuvin will never make a move on you but that doesn’t stop him from getting jealous when gyuvin is taking up too much of your attention

and he’ll straight up tell him to fuck off too LOL

riyangis i get you

GYUVIN LOOKS LIKE he’s about to burst into laughter as Ricky stands next to you, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He never takes Ricky’s jealousy seriously, which you understand why, given the fact that they’re best friends, and he has absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

“You should go home now,” Ricky insists, motioning towards the front door. “I think we’ve hung out for long enough today.”

It was partially your fault for introducing a topic Ricky wasn’t versed in, but Gyuvin was the only other person you knew had watched the show you were watching, and you were itching to talk about it with somebody who understood. But, you’d pushed it too far, and he’d gotten a bit upset that you were focusing on Gyuvin when he had barged into your date.

“Aw, but [First] is my friend, too.”

“And, if we were both drowning, she’d choose me over you. What’s your point?”

Gyuvin burst into laughter, clutching his stomach as he wobbled towards the door. You held back your laughter as best you could, nearly losing it as Gyuvin struggled to put on the pair of bright yellow Crocs he decided to wear when he walked over. He opened the door and slammed it shut, yet you could still hear him laughing outside.

Then, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You laughed so hard that you also had to hold your stomach, and Ricky marched away from you, ignoring the halfassed apologies that fell from your lips.

gyuvin

gyuvin isn’t usually a jealous guy but he can get jealous, as opposed to hao and matthew who virtually never get jealous

when he gets jealous though it’s somewhat upsetting

it usually means something happened that wounded his pride or made him feel insecure, which you don’t enjoy obviously

so 99.9% of the time, if gyuvin is jealous, it’s because one of the members did something to/with you that he wasn’t super okay with

it’s never anything minute, like one of them liking an instagram post or something stupid, rather something happening under his nose

he loves and respects them a lot so the idea that they did something with his s/o without him knowing makes him super duper unhappy

and then he’ll start to think that there’s something they have that he didn’t, so he gets a bit insecure, too

but he absolutely will convince himself it’s not a big deal so then he’s just in an extra bad mood for the rest of the day

you usually have to squeeze whatever’s wrong out of him and, when you manage to, you feel really bad

because usually whatever happened to upset him was something you thought you’d addressed with him and/or thought he knew about

like ricky, he gets most jealous over things that happen between you and ricky

because you’re all close in age and gyuvin and ricky spend all of their time together, you’re obviously friends with him too

and, in ricky’s seasonal instagram wrap up post, he notices a selfie of you two in what he thinks was a hangout you had together without him knowing based on the background

it ruins his day so fast :( but you make sure to patch up the misunderstanding

GYUVIN HATES THE WAY HE FEELS as he gears up to speak, twiddling his thumbs while you sit across from him at the table, a frown painting your face. He doesn’t like it when you look sad, and he doesn’t like feeling this way or addressing that he feels it. So, when the time comes where he has to talk about it, it eats him up from the inside out.

“Did you hang out with Ricky? Without me?”

You immediately furrow your eyebrows, as if you’re confused. “Not that I know of? I barely even text Ricky outside of the group chat the three of us have. Where’d you get that idea?”

Embarrassed, Gyuvin decides to pull up the post, turning his phone to face you. You take it from his hands, bringing it closer to your face so that you can get a better look at it. Then, recognition floods your features, and your frown turns into a smile. “That was when we roadtripped to the beach. Not pictured here are you and Taerae, who were getting us coffee.”

Gyuvin snatches the phone back, feeling even more embarrassed. He zooms in on the background parts, ignoring you and Ricky, quickly realizing that the filter Ricky put on the picture made the water look much bluer than it actually had been, leading him to believe you’d gone on your own separate beach trip. Feeling the blood rush to his cheeks, Gyuvin smiled crookedly.

“My bad.”

gunwook

i actually struggled with this

on one hand i don’t think gunwook would get jealous easily

he’s a very reasonable boyfriend and has quite literally never wronged you

on the other hand i do think he would get jealous somewhat frequently

in the same way as taerae, it’s very quiet jealousy, but you will literally never know with him

he won’t ever bring it up after it happens and will just. move on

he also might get a little snarky with whoever approached you afterwards, but never when you’re around, so you are none the wiser

if you find out gunwook got jealous, you are finding out from other people, which you think is absolutely insane

one day you’ll be like cordially chatting with gyuvin and he’ll bring up this one time gunwook got super mega jealous over one of your guy friends and how it haunted him for months and you’re like ??? what

gyuvin is like you DIDN’T know? and then you learn about every single time gunwook has gotten jealous and then told him + yujin + ricky about it

apparently it was so obvious to the boys that hanbin literally asked him about it

you’re flabbergasted

so then you approach gunwook like “wtf is this?” and he’s like

“oh yeah”

what do you mean OH YEAH?

you’re actually so shocked

gunwook isn’t the type to get jealous of the boys though like that just straight up won’t happen

doesn’t matter who you’re talking to, how much time you spend with them, etc

he knows they’d never pull something with you ever so you could literally go on a remote vacation to the amazon rainforest with NO cell service with like hanbin and he wouldn’t give a shit

TAERAE WAS BUSY, which meant you’d dragged Hanbin along with you to go shopping for Christmas presents for the boys. You’d been dating Gunwook long enough that you felt like it was a good way to show gratitude for them, and Hanbin agreed to take you to the mall to get the gifts.

Of course, you couldn’t take Gunwook, because you were planning on buying a good chunk of his gift, too, which meant you hadn’t told him where you were going. So, when he called, you were somewhat apprehensive to pick up.

Hanbin, on the other hand, looked terrified.

“Can I come over? I’m bored,” he asked, and you held back the urge to laugh as you stared at Hanbin, who looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“I’m Christmas-present shopping with Hanbin, actually. Sorry.”

Hanbin’s jaw dropped, likely at the fact that you just came right out with it, but you weren’t worried in the slightest. “Oh, okay. That’s cool. Have fun. Tell Hanbin I said hello.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

He hung up, and Hanbin’s jaw dropped farther. “He just…doesn’t care? Like at all?”

You gave him an inquisitive look, as if you didn’t understand what he was implying. “Is he supposed to?"

thank you for reading !

tags: @happysmileybee

#cinna.zb1 #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 scenarios #zb1 reactions #zb1 fluff #zb1 angst #zb1 headcanons #jiwoong x reader #zhang hao x reader #hanbin x reader #sung hanbin x reader #seok matthew x reader #taerae x reader #ricky x reader #gyuvin x reader #gunwook x reader #req

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